#with the dagger you sharpened on my body and soul

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 4

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(Phantom finally returns!)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

>Many time skips

>Rushed chapter! (pls let me know if you spot a mistake)

>This has evolved into its own story, if its not something you're interested in, feel free to skip this one and check out some other fics on my page! °v°

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A horrible taste sat in Y/n's mouth as she stared out the window at the setting sun while sitting on the bed. She'd been in thought all day, trying to figure out what to do. She'd loved Aloïs, but this Aloïs was new to her, new personality, new possessions, new life.

She's pulled from her thoughts when a gentle hand rubs her head.

"You haven't touched your dinner, mon chéri."

Erik's adorable nickname flew right over her head.

"Oh! Yes of course."

She takes the plate and spoon from Erik only to fall back into thought after the first bite. Tapping on the plate slowly with the spoon.

Erik chuckles a little before taking her hand holding the spoon.

"Shall I feed you?" he pushes the spoon onto her lip.

Y/n takes the bite delicately with butterflies dancing in her stomach. Finally her thoughts were concentrated on Erik again and she starts eating.

Erik walks back to his bed and sat facing her. With a small wetstone he rhythmically scraped the edges of his dagger.

"I think, I should give Aloïs a chance."

Erik glances up at Y/n with a pause before resuming his sharpening.

"Oh? You didn't look so compliant this morning."

"I know, but if there's any chance My Aloïs is still there, perhaps I should take it. The riches that come after, is simply insurance for us."

"Us?"

Erik questions. Y/n realizes her words and suddenly their situation becomes clearer.

"Of course, I could never dream of abandoning you. You've saved me so many times-.."

"Then why not stay with me!" his interruption seems almost threatening this time. Eyes drilling into Y/n's.

Y/n sets down the plate and walks to Erik. She kneels down infront of him and takes his hands in hers, watching the words in his eyes.

"Erik, If I were to marry Aloïs. We'd be upper class. You could finally have a chance to see her again."

Erik quickly looks away and shakes his head.

"Who are you enquiring about?"

She delicately squeezes his hands, then also looks away, down at his hands.

"You don't have to deny it. I've seen you sing with her. Even if she is far from here, you always look out the windows as if you could see her. The sparkling in your eyes Erik. I... Could never hope to compete."

Erik didn't look back but his heart ached knowing Y/n's words were true to some extent. He still loved Christine even just a little. How could he not? He'd taught her how to find her voice, listened to her prayers night after night.

Y/n stood up and planted a kiss on Erik's head, then pulling him into a hug. His arms curled around her upper legs with his head on her stomach.

Patting his head delicately she smiled at his genuine, loving hug.

"Tomorrow, when Aloïs returns, I'll give him a chance. After that, we will decide what lays ahead."

She walks out of his grasp without another word and pulls the curtains shut. Once she couldn't see Erik anymore, he looked back at her.

A thin curtain keeping their bodies and souls apart, but so did a man and a woman who they both once loved.

Y/n lifts the ring that Aloïs gave her off the bed side table to look at it, quite coincidentally, so too did Erik lift Christine's ring.

○○○○

No sooner did morning come and Y/n found herself face to face with Aloïs outside the tavern.

Him dressed in a new fancy coat while she stood in the same dress she wore yesterday. Erik up in their room but with a keen ear listening to each word.

Y/n lifts her index finger up to Aloïs and stands confidently, chest out and feet steadfast in the ground.

"One outing. One chance to show me you're still the Aloïs I knew and loved."

Aloïs's eyes light up and he is quick to take Y/n's hand and kiss it catching her off gaurd. Not a good start.

"Thank you, chéri! We could go anywhere! Anywhere you'd like!"

Y/n shakes her head and pulls her hand back rubbing it.

"I think it's best if you decide."

"Alright then! Tonight we make for the new Opera house!"

The new Opera house! Where Christine sings? It wouldn't be right towards Erik. In many ways she'd feel like she was betraying him.

Y/n shakes her head trying to quickly object but once again Aloïs's excitement gets the best of him.

"Aloïs! Hold on, we can't! Um... Because, I-I have nothing to wear! "

Aloïs grabs onto the carriage as it starts moving.

"Don't worry! I shall have a dress and other essentials sent here! I will arrive shortly before 6 to pick you up."

Using his feathered hat he waves goodbye to Y/n who is already chewing on her nail with a stiff body.

Erik peaks out the window and watches Y/n rush up the stairs.

○○○

"For the 100th time, Y/n. It's fine!"

Erik stated once again watching Y/n pull the biggest fancy blue dress out of the box it was delivered in.

"Still it doesn't feel right! After what we talked about last night. I should've stopped him sooner!"

With his hands on his hips he watches Y/n struggle with all the fancy things Aloïs sent to her for their date.

"Even if I did object, darling. We can't change it now."

Y/n, trying to pull the large frilly dress off the floor and into her arms, sighs heavily. She peaks through the bundle of a dress in her arms at Erik.

"I am sorry you have to be here alone tonight. Boris was nice enough to give us the night off. Will you be ok?"

She almost stumbles into the closed curtains to get dressed. Small sparkling bits of jewelry were spread out on the bed aswell as make up and fresh shoes.

"I'll be quite fine. I'm no stranger to one night alone. Besides, you should try to enjoy tonight."

Once again Erik watches Y/n's silhouette. She drops the dress she wore onto the floor before crawling her way in though the bottom of the hooped skirt and pushing herself through the arm and head holes.

"I won't be too long hopefully. Still, it will be nice to be back in an Opera house, all be it a completely different one."

She pulls a little and straightens out the dress and puts the shoes on the ground slipping them on. She takes the corset off the bed and pulls it around her torso then pulling the strings as much she could.

"Erik! I might need some help with the corset."

She steps out of the curtains looking down while trying to clip a necklace around the back of her neck.

"Of course I'll-..."

His words drift off once Y/n comes into full view. Her dress a beautiful dark blue with small decorated flakes of gold. A beautiful off shoulder medium length sleeve top with little white frills.

"... Help."

Finishing his sentence with a paced heart and eyes glued to Y/n. She looked so beautiful, it reminded him of all the gowns he'd seen rich woman wear going to see the Opera. A warming nostalgic feeling, mixed with astonished glances to Y/n's clean completion.

He takes a few steps to behind Y/n where he took the strings of the corset and pulled them tight.

Y/n gasped softly once the corset pushed her torso into shape. Erik's hand guide itself over her aside and onto her stomach.

A roaming hand on her stomach going up, Y/n felt the same longing for Erik's touch she'd felt many times before.

"How does it feel? Can you breath?"

Erik whispered to her sending shivers up the back of her neck.

Although she really couldn't breath because of how close Erik was, she nodded.

"Let me help with your hair."

Y/n didn't know how, but Erik seemed to know exactly how to put hair up neat and tidy. This once again brought Erik's past into question. What did he do in the Opera?

Even tho he'd answered the question before, Y/n doubted he helped only moving things around and doing maintenance.

Y/n's hair was freshly washed and dried. She hasn't worn her hair up in a while, she'd always danced with loose hair and gone her days without putting it up.

This means it was the first Erik had seen her like this. Open shoulders and beautiful neckline. He was very unsure why he felt this way for someone other than Christine.

He places a delicate kiss on Y/n's neck, again causing Y/n to gasp at the unexpected moment.

She looks back at Erik connecting with his gaze. A powerful moment from both of them. Y/n wanted to kiss Erik, he wanted exactly the same.

"You're beautiful, Y/n."

He whispers to her.

She smiles a little hearing his little praise and delicately she places her hand on the side of his head.

Nervous but entranced by her, not because she wore a fancy dress or makeup, but because of her smile, because of her lasting laughs and love to all things.

Now more than ever, he needed to decide. Loose one Dimond, or continue chasing another he'd lost sight of long ago.

Within an instant Erik's lips meet hers. Suddenly fireworks spark and all moments they've shared before mix into one. Erik's hand on her stomach push her closer towards him and Y/n grips the back of his hair lightly.

Y/n felt the warmth in his lips, soft hands holding her like he'd never let go. Body language threatening to keep her captured and protected. His forever. She'd felt his embrace so many times before, but this felt warmer than sunshine on her face.

A lasting kiss mixed with uncertainty when the sound of horses come down the street.

Y/n Quickly pulls away putting her hand over her mouth and Erik grits his teeth at the interrupted kiss.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I had no right." Y/n felt the need to apologize.

"Nonsense! This was my decision."

His hands were now shaking, his decision now greatly turned to one side. To Y/n. He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to hold her and run to where Aloïs couldn't touch her or even look at her again.

"Y/n-..."

"Stop!" Y/n demanded pulling Erik's hand off her stomach.

"Please don't make this harder than it is! I've tried to ignore it. I'm trying not to be selfish."

She takes a deep shaky breath and rubs her eyes keeping the tears from rushing out.

"I'm trying not to love you, because I know you love her."

With a crumpled bit of her dress squeezed in her fists she clears her throat.

"I'll be back soon, then we can talk!"

She looks up at Erik with glossed eyes then lifts her dress off the ground and running out of the room.

Erik stood frozen, his thoughts rushing with uncertain desire. A longing for another.

Y/n ran downstairs with heavy breathing and tears falling onto the floor but she shook her head and plastered on a smile.

She waved goodbye to Boris who called her pretty girl before she left, giving her a little more reason to smile.

Finally coming out of the tavern. Aloïs is stunned and offers his hand.

"My lady, beautiful as always." Aloïs complimented and placed a small kiss on her hand.

A bouquet of flowers is pulled out of the carriage and given to Y/n. She looked down at the brightly colored flowers and smelled them.

"Their beautiful, Aloïs. Thank you."

Aloïs smiled but stopped for a moment.

"You're not wearing the ring?"

Y/n shakes her head and looks back at the tavern to their room.

"I must have forgotten it."

"Well then! Let's be off, mon amour. The Opera awaits! And perhaps more good news! Christine is preforming tonight. One of the Opera performances you danced for, I think."

Helping Y/n into the carriage, their off into the night air and to the Opera. The Opera house was shining bright in the dimly lit Paris night and was visible even from the tavern.

Erik was still caught in the room, his fists clenched and his jaw locked.

A sudden swing into the wall breaking the wooden plank instantly. Heavy breathing and hair hanging over his eye.

"She is not your mon amour."

His body fuming with anger, feeling once again he was too late! Once again he'd lost to a pretty rich boy. The sunshine when he was the darkness.

He pulled his bloody splintered hand out of the wooden wall still not satisfied. He wanted to bash Aloïs's skull in. He wanted to take Y/n and tell her he loved her, how it took him this long to realize was his own wrong doing.

Her teary and frightened eyes popping into his head. How could someone so beautiful look so sad. Erik felt all the signs flood back from hidden memories.

Y/n's gentle voice helping him stay awake while she carried him after the fire. Her soft hand washing his wound. Her smile not fearing his face. Never once did she shutter away from his touch. All he wanted was to see her smile so happily after a long night's dance.

He made a decision. He wasn't going to let the fool take her, he would take her first.

He once again pushed out the false bottom out of the closet floor to reveal a white mask and black cape along with clothing he wore once before.

He chuckles deeply and pulls the mask onto his face.

"I'll need you once again, old friend. Beware, the Phantom of the Opera."

With a maniacal laughter he swings his cloak on and dissappears into darkness.

○○○

The Opera house burned bright with people and chatter! Golden statues of beautiful men and woman, and a miraculous staircase upon entering.

Y/n felt so out of place when walking on the red carpet. Not even a speck of dust on the polished floors.

Her eyes dazzled with excitement and she'd never felt so far from home.

"Erik! Look at the chandelier!" she pointed with a gloved hand.

Aloïs turns away from his conversation with another older looking noble couple and runs up to her.

"Darling! It's quite beautiful isn't it!"

He quickly puts his arm around her waist and pulls her to his side.

"Don't mind her silly little mind. She gets confused who she's with sometimes."

He explains to the couple. Y/n's mind quickly corrects itself remembering Erik isn't here and her cheeks flush.

Aloïs takes her hand and kisses it before pulling it to his heart.

"My darling Y/n and I are celebrating our engagement! Aren't we?"

Y/n looks at Aloïs confused for a second before the nobel woman claps her hands together happily.

"That's wonderful! I'm happy that the daughter of the famous dancer, will marry my nephew, soon."

Aloïs smiles proudly.

"Yes! Quite a spectacle! Now if you'll excuse us. We have many people to meet."

Aloïs bows his head gently and pulls Y/n towards another couple giving Y/n a chance to plant her feet in the ground and stop.

Her eyes move to Aloïs's with a stern glare.

"Aloïs. We didn't agree to this! We agreed that after I'd make my decision."

Aloïs sighs then nods with a guilty sigh.

"I know, mon amor. But I'm very confident in your answer. As I've said. This is a better life. Besides, I don't want you to rot in that tavern any longer."

His fingertips delicately brush over her cheek and he smiles.

"You're my darling, Y/n. I will keep you safe, till the end of your days until you die comfortably in a silk bed with as many fur children you'd like."

Y/n looks away for a second before thinking of Erik's face, the expression he made every night listening to Christine sing in their cramped little room. She could help him as much as she could help herself.

She looks back up at Aloïs with his glittering outfit and fine polished shoes. Her hand reaches for his bicep and she smiles.

"W-who else do we need to meet? Um.. Darling?"

Aloïs once again smiles with joy and pulls her off to another noble man where she smiles carefully and nods politely.

By the time they arrived in box 5 high above the stage, Y/n was exhausted. She sunk into her seat like a tierd dad after work. She took a breath and quickly straightens herself out to sit straight.

She looks around the box because she'd always wondered why rich nobles found these seats so desirable. She could see the entire stage, tho it was a little far to make out the details.

Aloïs still with heaps of energy flips though the thin paper pamphlet and leans over to Y/n.

"Ah! This opera is the same one that Christine debuted in. I remember her white dress, it took incredibly long to sew all those little white pearls into the dress!"

Y/n smiles and nods.

"I remember, your hands had so many bandaids on for weeks, I was worried about you."

Aloïs puts the pamphlet onto his lap and lifts Y/n's hand to place a small kiss on her knuckles.

"I remember the small cuts, but I remember how you kissed each finger and held me so gently when we fell asleep. "

His thumb traces over her fingers as he stares at them thinking.

"One day, I will create a white dress for you too, mi amor."

For a very small moment, Y/n felt her heart spark. Her Aloïs was starting to shine though again.

Aloïs pulls his hand back and the light dims.

Suddenly a spotlight on stage and the play begins. Dancers fill the stage and Y/n couldn't help her excitement. She clapped watching a dance she knew off by heart. Her feet started bouncing with her urge to dance.

Aloïs smiled and placed a small kiss on her cheek then whispered into her ear.

"Your passion burns bright and beautiful, Y/n."

Another spark made Y/n giggle genuinely before she looks back at the stage.

The orchestra starts with a sudden blast of music filling the large Opera house. Up close and personal she could hear a voice start off with a strong note.

The spotlight shifts, and there she was. The famous and beautiful, Christine Daaé. Y/n's friend and inspiration to dance.

Her toes point on instinct in the very uncomfortable shoes which reminded her not to act like a child.

She presses her lips together and dims down her excitement to a gentle foot tap.

She watches the opening Opera sequence and soon the play has begun. Actors singing out their lines and an occasional cheers from the crowd.

Y/n took full advantage of moments of cheers to yell her support, knowing all the effort that goes into each play. The preparation and weeks of rehearsals.

Nearing the end of the play Y/n is fully distracted by the singing beauty, she didn't notice the quietly approaching figure behind her. A hand slowly reaching for her shoulder and suddenly grabbing it.

Y/n jumps suddenly and turns to look. An old noblmen with wine in his hand and quite drunk.

The noblmen slurs as he asks.

"Has the play started yet, Aloïs?"

Aloïs takes the mans hand off her shoulder quickly and pulls him towards him.

"Monsieur Du Beu, you're in the wrong box I'm afraid."

Y/n shakes her head and tries to focus on the Opera. After some time, Aloïs and the noblmen were still talking about business? Or something. Y/n tried to ignore it, but the chatter was too loud.

She bit her lip before deciding to slip out and closer to the stage.

"I'm going to get some fresh air." she whispers and Aloïs nods back acknowledging.

She lifts her big dress and hurries down the corridor towards the stage. The rooms were dark and very dimly lit until she saw a bright little room, calling her towards it.

She smiles once entering seeing a dressing room with many little bits of dresses and costumes.

She spots one in particular hung over a chair in the middle of the room, from the play being performed right now and smiles to herself.

She lifts the dancing dress and presses it against her body measuring.

"Perhaps they wouldn't mind if I borrowed this? Only for this dance number. No one will see me! "

She convinced herself in her excitement to dance formally again.

She quickly dresses in the dress and pulls on some dancing shoes she found with the dress. Wierd how it fit so perfectly?

She taps her toes on the ground to nuzzle her feet into each cranny comfortably.

Sneaking back out into the corridor she looks for an open space where she could preform the next dance number coming up.

It was a dance that required a partner and usually, it was only one duo dancing on center stage. No background dancers. Only the singer in the front corner.

Finally in the darkness she sees a large open room, incredibly dark but she could dance the routine there.

She smiled taking her place in the middle of the room lifting her arms and waiting for the music to echo from the stage. Something felt too perfect about this. And it turns out, she was quite right.

Suddenly, the lights go on and the curtains whoosh open to reveal the entire audience infront of her. Somehow she'd wandered right onto stage, into some kind of trap? Now she needed to preform the dance for real.

Y/n stood frozen in place, both from shock and terror from how she'd gotten herself into this mess.

The dance partner walks behind bed and moves his hand around her waist ready to start the choreography. A dance partner she had no practice time with whatsoever.

She looked up at Aloïs who looked back. He was confused, he couldn't tell if Y/n stood on stage because it was too far. So he kept watching.

The music starts and Christine is stood in the front corner, singing her musical number. Each step Y/n takes is on fire, with fear that someone would realize she's not the right dancer.

As she and this stranger dances together, she hears a deep chuckle.

"So stiff? Wondering how you possibly wandered onto stage?"

Y/n's head turns to look at the partner she'd gotten and once again she's shot with another surprise.

A white mask she'd never seen up close. But everyone knows of after the fire. The man who kidnapped Christine and set the flames ablaze.

The Phantom of the Opera was now lifting her into the air and following each step of the dance precisely.

His mask was so well blended with the costumes actors wore. No audience member would feel the need to be alert.

White mask and black sleek back hair, a thick coat and formal wear only a nobleman would wear. Y/n couldn't be sure, but she knew to some extent, it must be the Phantom.

"Phantom.."

She questioned in a whisper.

"So you do recognize me."

He confirms her suspicious and spins her round.

She stops spinning and only takes small steps on her toes. Her shock turns to anger.

"You criminal! Monster! Murderer!"

She growls and felt the need to pull away and run! But the Phantom grabs her hands and pulls her back into his chest as the dance routine commanded.

"Now, now my dear. You wouldn't want to alert anyone that you're not where you're supposed to be."

She looks at the audience and then at Aloïs before pressing her lips together into a smile.

"Are you trying to get to Christine again! Well there she is! Go get her!"

Y/n taunts with an angry glare.

She steps back throwing her body back into a dip, trusting the Phantoms arm around her wist to catch and pull her back to her feet. Following each dance step to a T.

"I'm not here for Christine."

On beat he takes her chin and moves it to look at him.

"I'm here for you."

His words deep and mysterious, but somehow Y/n believed every part of it.

She felt her body shake in fear. Her mind spun back to the fire that burnt her lover. Almost killed her, and had killed so many others that she loved. Her home burnt to ashes, causing so much pain for her to start over.

She took this oppertunity to push herself out of phantoms arms and run to the front of the stage.

"Aloïs-.."

She screamed, but she's quickly pulled back into Phantom's arms. His black gloved hand covering her mouth and nose restricting her breathing. He pulled her to the back of the stage.

Aloïs finally caught on and jumped to his feet.

"It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

His voice loud enough to echo through the quiet opera house. The music brought to a sudden halt and Christine stopped singing. Everyone starts to panic and rush to the exit.

Y/n still kicking and trying to pull Phantom's hand off her mouth, felt her vision blur and her body slowly goes limp. Knowing Y/n couldn't run, Phantom pulls Y/n against him holding her securely.

He smirks suddenly wrapping Y/n in his cloak and grabbing hold of a roap that hung at the back of the stage. Precisely placed and planned.

With a zip of a mechanism, Y/n and Phantom are pulled through the air and out of sight.

"NO! Y/N!"

Aloïs yells and suddenly runs out of the box throwing off his coat.

He rushes towards the stage with some guards following closely behind. With a slide and a turn he enters the costume room where he spotted the, big puffy blue dress Y/n wore, on the ground.

Ontop of her dress was a note and a white rose with a black bow tied around the stem.

Aloïs takes the note that read 'I remembered her. Now she is here with me, I've decided.'

Aloïs growls and crumpled the note in his hand. He turns to the soldiers and yells.

"Search the Opera house basement! Search the tavern! FIND HER! Find Y/N!"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

i told u the knight!muriel and royal!mc drabble was too delicious i must request more (if you’d like <3)

what about mc’s lovely knight coming along to something fancy schmancy, like a ball or a banquet, where he’s a little out of his element, and the royal mc helps to guide him. :>

or if that doesn’t interest you, maybe a story about mc getting attacked and muriel coming to their aid. muriel blaming himself for their wounds because he didn’t get there in time.

wherever u choose, even if u choose not to write this, have a lovely day and thank you for your writing!! <33 i enjoy it very much.

You and your bodyguard agreed to take things slow -

That is, you agreed not to announce your engagement right away, because as much as he loves you, he's very averse to the publicity of being the monarch's royal consort.

You know it can't be like that forever. One day, you'll have to share the safe sweetness of his presence with the rest of the kingdom, but for now, it's just the two of you on the very edge of the castle grounds. No eyes judging. No ears spying. Just his hands in your hair and on your hip while you hide behind an old oak tree -

"Wait -"

You nudge at his chest and watch him take a step back, face flushed and eyes gently concerned.

"Did I hurt you?"

You squeeze his hand reassuringly and wonder how he could've possibly done that when you were only three kisses in. You're about to answer when the same noise you heard earlier floats across the gardens to your hiding spot. Muriel's gaze sharpens, brows furrowing in confusion.

"That's my name." He looks back to you, clearly torn. "We ... should probably go ..."

"Go ahead without me." You smile at his worry. "If it's quick, I'll still be here so we can continue."

He nods and sets off at a jog, clearly hoping to pick up where he left off. You sit down at the base of the tree and start picking at the grass around you to pass the time.

Not three minutes later, you're being roughly seized from behind the oak and pinned against the bark. Two men stalk up from the other side of the low boundary wall and make their way towards you with their daggers drawn. You can tell from the way they approach you that they have no interest in negotiating. You struggle against the bruising grip on your wrists, filling your lungs to yell, hoping someone's close enough to hear you -

"Close your eyes, your majesty."

You obey Muriel's rough request without a second thought. Moments later the hands crushing your wrists against the bark get ripped away from you, and in the darkness all you can hear are a series of shouts, dull thuds, and finally, silence. You hear a set of heavy footsteps make their way up to the tree you're now sitting against.

"You can ... open your eyes, now ..." He's kneeling over you, brimming with worry while three motionless bodies lie forgotten in the grass behind him. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so -" you begin, and then wince when you reach out to take his hand. His green eyes widen at the angry bruises blooming along your wrists and arms.

"... I did this to you."

"No, Muriel, no, you didn't." You reach out again, eventually leaning forward enough to fall so he'd accept your touch and catch you. "You're the reason this wasn't much, much worse."

He hefts you up carefully and begins to carry you back towards the castle. The three men behind you stay still and silent. How hard did he hit them??

"I shouldn't have left you alone."

"I'm the one who told you to go."

He slows his pace, pausing to look you in the eyes while his own swim with regret. "If I had been there, you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

You wriggle out of his hold and stand facing him, extending your bruised wrists and forearms to rest in his hands. "Kiss it better, then."

He flushes and pouts. "A salve would do better to heal you ..."

"And my lover's kiss does best to ease my soul."

You watch his blush overpower his misplaced guilt, his hands gently swallowing your wrists and forearms in their massive grip, as he slowly bows his head over them. "... if you insist."

He raises first one wrist to his lips, and then the other. You barely feel the feather-light brush of his kiss against the pulse there as he slowly draws you into a protective embrace.

"... better?"

"Much better."

"Are you sure?" He draws back to scoop you up again, despite knowing that your legs are perfectly fine. You can feel the heat of his sulking blush roll off of him in waves. "Maybe I should kiss you everywhere else ... just to be safe."

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

12 Days Of Christmas Countdown

5 Posters (1/5): Katia McKinley in Hallelujah

I want my innocence back and if you can't give it to me, I will cut you down When Katia McKinley first met the Winchester brothers, she had no idea who they were.  Dean was nothing more than the hot new guy in her class who she made out with in the janitor’s closet and slept with in the backseat of his car, and Sam was only the little brother he’d mentioned once or twice.  Nothing memorable, beyond how good the sex was, nothing important.  And then Katia McKinley died, and the Winchesters were the farthest thing from her mind. But then she woke up.  Still dead, technically, but somehow surviving a vampire attack that really, truly should have killed her.  Her new instincts wanted her to hunt, to kill, to feed, but Katia didn’t want to become the monster that haunted her every waking moment.  So she became a different kind of hunter.  Under the guidance of Bobby Singer, Katia learned about all things that go bump in the night, and she learned how to protect people.  For years she dedicated herself to her new cause: not killing monsters, but protecting innocents.  Protecting people like she’d once been, completely normal and entirely unaware of the danger lurking around every corner. And still, she never gave the Winchester boys another thought.  Not until she goes to Toledo to investigate a possibly haunted mirror, and runs into a familiar but long forgotten face. And I will run you through with the dagger you sharpened on my body and soul

Tag List: @airwolf92 – want to be added?

[auburniivenus]

"Is it wrong that I collect intriguing weapons and trinkets on my journeys?" He whips his head toward the petite woman, with a gaze that holds a slight glimpse of concern as she handles an ancient dagger still noticeably sharp. D wonders if she's had experience with any weapon at all--though his intuition would say no, this lady doesn't seem like a fighter. Her ivory hands were far too delicate looking and there didn't seem to be too much muscle tone on her body. The auburn-haired maiden's form was reminiscent of a fertility goddess in full bloom.

"I don't think a museum will do it good. Weapons are meant to be used." @vxmpirehunterd

There   was   no   illicit   conduct   in   the   passionate   pursuit   of   antiquities,   no   transgression   in   the   fervent   acquisition   of   relics   from   epochs   long   past.   Indeed,   there   existed   a   global   fraternity   of   such   enthusiasts,   individuals   whose   hearts   would   flutter   at   the   mere   prospect   of   acquiring   such   a   diverse   spectrum   of   historical   treasures.   Her   mind,   a   vibrant   canvas   of   inquisitiveness   and   fancy,   embarked   on   a   journey   of   speculation,   attempting   to   weave   narratives   around   each   blade.   Had   these   silent   sentinels   of   history   been   wielded   in   the   noble   cause   of   justiciar,   their   contours   tasting   the   lifeblood   of   the   IGNOMINIOUS   to   protect   the   innocents?

"Indeed,   I   concur.   Yet,   within   this   collection,   there   are   pieces   that   possess   an   ethereal   beauty."   Murmured,   her   voice   a   soft   symphony   in   the   silenced   chamber.   Her   caramel   hues,   mirrors   to   her   soul,   could   recognize   beauty   even   in   the   macabre,   uncover   kindness   in   the   most   obscure   creatures.   Her   compassion,   a   radiant   beacon   in   her   quintessence,   illuminated   even   the   darkest   corners   of   despair.   "Given   the   abundance   of   artifacts,   I   imagine   you   are   a   custodian   of   countless   tales."   She   returned   the   blade   to   its   resting   place.   Yet,   even   the   most   meticulous   caution   can   falter,   and   in   an   unfortunate   twist   of   fate,   the   blade's   sharpened   edge   grazed   the   soft,   pristine   dermis   of   her   digit.   A   few   drops   of   her   life's   essence   adorned   the   cold,   indifferent   metal.

"M-My   apologies."   Inoue   whispered,   a   hint   of   regret   lacing   her   words.   "Perhaps   it   would   be   prudent   for   me   not   to   interact   with   these   relics   any   further."   With   a   swift,   instinctive   motion,   she   placed   her   injured   finger   on   her   lips,   attempting   to   interrupt   the   flow   of   blood.   Her   eyes,   now   conveying   a   mix   of   surprise   and   mild   pain.

[firelord-frowny]

I Want My Innocence Back by Emilie Autumn is SUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! a fucking anthem omfg the pure vicarious righteous RAGE all wrapped up in this weirdly sinister 1980s drag ballroom techno vibey monstrosityyyyyyy and the lyrics are just???? wow.

I want my innocence back And if you can't give it to me I will cut you down And I will run you through With the dagger you sharpened On my body and soul Before you split me in two And then devoured me whole I want my innocence back I want my innocence back And if you can't pacify me I will break your bones You think I'm bluffing? Just try me. I will never forget The words you used to ensnare me Till my dying day, You'll suffer for this, I swear I want my innocence back AND I DEMAND! You put my heart back in my hands! And wipe it clean of the mess you made of me. AND I REQUIRE! You make me free from this desire And when you leave, I better be the innocent I used to be.

[dragonhotcoffee]

not me listening to “I want my innocence back” ten years later and realizing how it’s way too relatable

[notaweaponx23]

Laura Kinney

Character name / alias : Laura Kinney / Formerly X-23, now Wolverine

Faceclaim: Seychelle Gabriel

Affiliations: X-Men, Nomads

Age: 29

Species: Metahuman

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Identity: Secret

Powers and/or abilities: Genetically enhanced with Logan’s DNA, Laura possesses all of her father’s basic powers, with the difference that she has two bone claws on each hand and one on each foot. These claws are coated in adamantium, but that’s not true for the rest of her skeleton, also differentiating her from Logan. 

She has an accelerated healing factor, longevity, immunity to diseases and poisons, as well as superhuman senses (especially smell, which she uses for tracking). Her stamina, reflexes, durability and agility are all enhanced by her mutation as well as her training.

Since childhood, she was raised to be an assassin, and thus is an expert martial artist and black ops agent.

Weaknesses: Very few, as she can regenerate from almost anything, except having her head cut off. Cosmic amounts of energy could harm her enough and most likely kill her. The length of time for her to heal may vary if the injury is near fatal, which can give the enemy an advantage. She can be put out of commission by certain drugs and there’s a trigger scent that her handlers used to give her to make her go into a berseker state, in which she’ll kill anyone in sight, friend or foe.

Personality traits:

- Protective vs aggressive: She wants to survive, first and foremost. She’ll fight tooth and nail to keep the freedom she’s gained and she’ll do the same for the ones she cares about. Unfortunately, her very nature is of a feral creature and the way she shows emotions or handles her problems is just as unhealthy as her father’s. Yay, genetics!

- Honest vs rude: Laura is... blunt. She’ll say whatever she thinks to your face, although admittedly she has gotten much better with her people skills. She doesn’t like playing games and in spite (or perhaps exactly because) of being as assassin, she prefers to speak/hear the truth.

- Nurturing vs distrusting: Touch-starved feral child. She has an inherent distrust of organizations and people, but once she gets comfortable with someone or if she sees a child in need of care as she once was, she’s an incredibly sweet, nurturing person. Basically think of a wolf, aggressive and suspicious at everyone except her own.

Headcanons:

- Laura volunteers at orphanages and shelters to read to children, as her mother used to do for her during her upbringing at the Facility. She’s the living proof that a little kindness can go a long way.

- She fears nothing, that was beaten out of her a long time ago, but she hates being in enclosed spaces.

- She loves crossword puzzles and will do them while laying around in absolutely lazy positions. She has perfect posture in combat, let her rest a bit!

- Animals tend to be fearful, distrustful or even aggressive around Laura, much to her dismay.

Life before the Accords:

X-23 was the first successful project of the Facility. After 22 failed attempts to clone the Wolverine, Dr. Sarah Kinney decided to test out a theory and create a female subject through artificial insemination, giving birth to a little girl that was hardly ever allowed to be a child at all. Raised in captivity to be the perfect weapon, X-23 lived a life without comfort, subjected to physical abuse and emotional negligence, with sparse moments of much-needed care with Dr. Kinney.

At the age of 7, through radiation exposure, X-23's mutation was triggered and she started her training to be an assassin. Four years later and with successful experimental missions under her belt, the Facility began selling her services to those willing to pay a fair amount for a quick and efficient way of dealing with their enemies. X-23 did as she was told with the life she had always known, until she started catching glimpses of the world outside.

Fearing that the same situation could be replicated by cloning the subject and wishing to save her from the impeding fate of living weapon, Dr. Kinney gave X-23 a clear mission – destroy the Facility, including every sample of genetic material, and kill her handlers. Unfortunately, Dr. Kinney’s found out about the plot superiors and used the trigger scent to send X-23 into a blind rage, leading her to kill Dr. Kinney while the woman was trying to help her escape. With her final breath, Dr. Kinney told the 13-year-old girl the truth about being her mother and gave her the name she would use from then on – Laura.

For over a year, Laura wandered the outskirts of San Francisco, managing to survive by herself with the skills honed throughout her still short life. She’d seen the files that linked her to the Wolverine, a connection she didn’t know what to do with, and once she encountered him the first instinct was to attack and flee. It took some time until they could get used to each other, and she doesn’t forget that in spite of everything, Logan didn’t leave her alone then, taking it upon himself to raise her to be a full person and not what the Facility tried to make of her.

Eventually, she also joined the Xavier Institute, where she learned how to make friends – and some trouble too, of course. Laura still considers herself more of a lone wolf than anything else, but she has her people and they can count on her, because she knows that she can count on them as well.

Following the Accords:

The one thing Laura hates the most is being labeled and at the mercy of powers-that-be deciding her fate, therefore she didn’t sign it. She also didn’t want to go to Genosha because she doesn’t negotiate with people that want to trap her kind in one place. She has been on missions with the Nomads, but hadn’t come to live at the Mousehole until reuniting with Logan.

[cannibalmutual]

i will cut you down

and i will run you through

with the dagger you sharpened

on my body and soul

before you slit me in two

and then devoured me whole

[ciceroandlucien]

Cicero listened to the water dripping down into the chamber from a hole in the roof somewhere. Drip. Drip. Drip. It tinkled down from the ceiling to the floor where it formed a puddle and each drop caused the smallest splash. Cicero watched his victim sleep soundly in her room. She wore a blue velvet nightgown with gold trim around the wrists and neck. The moon cast the room in an eerie pale light that gave the maiden an almost ghostly look. Her skin was pale and her hair a cornsilk blonde that almost lost its color entirely in the glow of the moonlight. 

The assassin had been sitting in the shadows for nearly an hour before his target had finally returned to her room for the evening. Though he intended to kill her, Cicero still averted his gaze when the maiden stripped her garments off and proceeded to dress in her nightgown. After removing her jewelry and placing it into a strongbox, she braided her hair and secured it with a length of ribbon before twisting it up and off of her neck. Then she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up before extinguishing the candle in the lantern at her bedside. Cicero had waited patiently for her breathing to slow, a sure sign of unconsciousness. She drifted off to sleep rather quickly, Cicero thought enviously. 

When he was certain she was asleep, Cicero emerged from the shadows. He lifted his dagger silently from it’s sheath and ran a gloved finger along the blade. Freshly sharpened, it was more beautiful than ever to Cicero. He carried it over to the sleeping woman and stood over her for a moment, observing. Her chest rose sharply and then fell with a sigh. Cicero could see her eyes moving behind her eyelids. She was dreaming. Her lips briefly parted and Cicero listened for what sound may come from them, but all he could hear was the dripping. The drips had begun to slow with more time in between. He wondered what she might be dreaming. He felt some compunction at having to interrupt whatever it may be, but he had come for a reason and he set to his task. 

First Cicero lowered himself to her bed, sitting at the edge so his weight would not displace the sleeping maiden. Then he placed a gloved hand over her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open and in the darkness they locked on Cicero’s. He felt her body tense and watched as her eyes grew wide. She began shaking her head as she realized what was happening.

“Silence, my darling,” Cicero cooed, still holding a hand over her mouth. He leaned his weight over her body in such a way that he did not outright pin her, but made it quite obvious that should she try to escape, she would find it difficult to do so. He lifted his hand with the dagger and brought the blade close to the maiden’s neck. Her eyes filled with tears and Cicero could hear whimpers behind his hand. The shuddering, uneven breathing was accompanied by sniffling and the warmth of her tears dripped down her cheeks and onto Cicero’s sleeves. He ignored them.

“Your soul has been called by Sithis himself,” Cicero whispered.. He offered her a warm smile and said, “Cicero is here to guide you to the Void.”

He thrust the dagger down into her chest near her collarbone and held it, keeping his weight on the woman. Her eyes clenched shut in pain and a gasp drew the palm of the glove away from his hand. She exhaled brokenly and he could feel her breath hot on his glove. He drew his hand back from her mouth. He knew she would not cry out. It was too late for her to be saved. She opened her eyes as Cicero dragged the dagger back out. Her chest leapt up with the pain and she did let out a small cry, but when Cicero drove the knife back in again and again, her subsequent reactions became less pronounced. She had lost any will to fight back before he had removed the dagger from the first wound. Her velvet nightgown was soaked through and Cicero watched the golden trim turn crimson as it absorbed her blood. A smile crept across his face as he stood, satisfied with yet another kill. It never got old for him.

He shook the blood off of his dagger and used the tails of his motley to wipe it down as he always did before sheathing it. The ceiling had ceased its dripping but Cicero heard dripping still and glanced around the room to identify the source. By the bed, the moon illuminated the crimson puddle forming below the maiden’s corpse.

[scottybrock]

Freak The Freak Out - Jade West

When Jade and Cat came to you and told you about what happened at Karaoke Dokie, you were seething. When they asked you for help, you were immediately on board. You tried to ignore the way Jade’s brilliant blue eyes lit up, and the charming (and rare!) smile she directed at you. Cat squealed, tackling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around the petite redhead. Jade scowled, her brows furrowing as she watched you hug her best friend, wishing it could be her in your arms instead. 

She’d broken up with Beck a few months prior, when she realized that her attraction to you could no longer be denied. Beck was understanding, encouraging her to pursue you. After all, he just wanted her to be happy, even if she couldn’t be happy with him. Jade was in love with you- had been since the moment she’d laid eyes on you. She was a finicky person, but even in her eyes, you were perfect, from the way that you looked down to your personality. She loved your laugh, your smile. She wanted to know what it was like to kiss you, to hold you tight and never let go. However, her feelings weren’t as unrequited as she thought they were. Jade intrigued you, fascinated you. She was drop-dead gorgeous and her witty humor amused you to no end. You understood her in ways that her friends couldn’t, loved every part of her. You were irrevocably in love with Jade West. 

“So,” Jade’s voice was sharp. You pulled away from Cat, who clung onto your arm, hugging it to her. Jade scowled at her, then turned to face you. “What’s the plan?” Jade asked, her pretty blue eyes focused on you. You grinned at her. “Leave that to me, babe,” You winked. Jade’s eyes widened, her face flushing cranberry red. Your grin just grew, and Cat giggled, nudging you. Jade’s lips curved into a soft smile, her face still quite red. “Okay,” She replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Your grin softened into something much warmer, something much more real. “Okay,” You repeated. Jade’s soft smile grew wider, and she focused her gaze onto her shoes, worried that if she blushed any more, she’d spontaneously combust. She’d love that, but not before she had the opportunity to see if she could have something real with you; something that could possibly last forever. 

You showed up to Jade’s house the next evening. She opened the door, her brows furrowing. “Hi?” She asked. “I’m looking for Jade West,” You lisped, adjusting the prosthetic nose currently adorning your face. “Uh,” Jade hesitated. “Who are you?” You fixed the glasses, then adjusted your bulky sweater. “Louise,” You snickered. “Louise Nordoff.” Jade’s expression changed to one of confusion. “You have the wrong address,” She snapped, getting ready to slam the door in your face. You stuck your foot in the doorway, then whipped off the nose and glasses. She gaped at you. 

Cat appeared in the background, looking rather horrified. “You look hideous!” Cat chirped, earning her an elbow to her ribs. Your grin sharpened. “That’s all part of the plan, Cat.” You replied. Jade reached out, cupping your face in her hands. “But you have such a gorgeous face,” She pouted, giving your cheeks a little squeeze. “Why would you want to distort that?” You blushed bright red, your lips curving into a soft smile. It might have just been your imagination, but you swore Jade’s eyes flickered down to your lips. She swallowed, almost imperceptibly, then released you. “So, tell us this brilliant plan of yours,” Jade requested. However, she didn’t step back any further, delighting in the way your eyes twinkled mischievously. 

You arrived at Karaoke Dokie, sitting at a table. You watched as Jade and Cat walked over to Hayley and Tara, challenging them to pick a random opponent to sing against. Their eyes zeroed in on you, and you tried your hardest to seem as unassuming and unthreatening as possible-- it worked. Hayley and Tara stalked over to your table and propositioned you to a singing challenge. You timidly accepted, much to the untalented hags’ delight. 

After Hayley and Tara’s lackluster performance that earned half-hearted applause from the audience, you took your position. “I would like to sing ‘Freak The Freak Out.’” You requested. The DJ looked skeptical, questioning your song decision. “I would like to sing it now, please!” You screeched. 

The song began, and you awkwardly danced around the stage. While your voice was amazing, your appearance seemed to make the decision for the audience. However, the audience shouted in approval when you took your glasses off, chucked the fake nose behind you, and began to unbutton the admittedly comfortable, but hideous sweater. You removed your wig, then fluffed your hair as you continued to sing. You heard Jade’s scream of approval and grinned smugly at Tara and Hayley, who looked stunned. 

You jumped onto their table, dancing as you sang. You glanced down and noted the basket of food. Your mind flashed back to their horrid treatment of Cat and Jade, and your eyes narrowed. You kicked the basket of food, and it landed on Hayley’s lap. She shrieked in horror, and Tara glared daggers at you. You simply winked in response. 

Nearing the end of the song, you beckoned Jade and Cat onto the stage. Jade danced next to you, throwing her arms in the air and swinging her hips back and forth. You nearly lost track of what you were doing. Her beautiful blue eyes shone with genuine happiness, her full lips stretched out into a wide grin. Cat bounced along beside you, nudging you closer to her best friend. 

As the song came to the end, and the audience roared with approval, you turned to Jade, your breath catching in your throat; you and Jade were only inches apart, her breath fanning softly over your face. Her perfect features were one of hope. You leaned in further, dropping the microphone. It rolled to your feet, but you took no notice of it, only focused on the flawless woman in front of you. Her eyes twinkled beneath the multi-colored lights, her lips slightly parted as if inviting you to take that step- to do what you’d wanted to do since you met her. 

Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped her chin, tilting her face to yours. You took a deep breath, forgetting that you were onstage. Cat was watching, her eyes wide but her grin even wider. You pulled Jade close with your free arm, waiting for her to pull back and possibly stab you with a pair of scissors that you knew she’d have somewhere on her person. 

Instead, she nestled closer, her eyelids falling shut. Your lips pressed against hers, hungry and wanting, but softly and sweetly. It was everything you had dreamed of. Her lips were as soft as silk, and her fingers tangled in your hair, wanting to pull you as close as she possibly could. She pressed against you, her hands drifting down to your waist, as if she wanted to memorize every part of your body. The applause became muffled background noise, with Cat and Beck cheering the loudest, screaming with joy at the top of their lungs. 

When air became a problem, you slowly pulled away, tentatively opening your eyes. Jade’s beaming smile knocked the remaining air out of your lungs, and you softly gasped. Her eyes scanned your face, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You love me,” She breathed. She could feel it in the kiss; no one had ever kissed her like that, made her feel this disgustingly mushy and soft. You blinked at her, your lips curving into a (fucking adorable, Jade noted) shy smile. “I do,” You replied. You thought you could hear Beck’s triumphant yell, but ignored it for the moment. “I love you, Jade West,” Your voice was soft, only for the two of you to hear. “I’m in love with you, West.” 

Jade’s sapphire eyes glistened, and she pulled you into a warm embrace. Holding Jade felt like the most natural thing in the world- like you were born to be in Jade’s life somehow, whether it was as a pining best friend, soul mate, etc. Her cheeks flushed most adorably. “Well, it’s a damn good thing that I love you, too.” Jade replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You beamed up at her, nodding towards the back entrance. “Wanna head out?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at her. 

Jade shrugged, fine with either staying or going. “We could go, but we'd miss the results of the competition.” Jade stated. She shrugged again. You rolled your eyes playfully at her, then steered her in the direction of Beck and Cat. “Honestly, I already won my prize,” You retorted smugly. Jade rolled her eyes, but a smirk flitted across her face. “You’re so cheesy,” She teased lightly. You tilted your head at her, pouting. “But you love me anyways, don’t you?”  

Jade’s expression softened immediately and a soft, sweet, gentle smile flitted over her face. “I do,” She replied, brushing stray hair out of your face. You leaned into the touch, welcoming it. “I really, really do. I love you.”

[ninacarstairss]

PARABATAI WEEK -> day 2, Will Herondale and Jem Carstairs @carstairgray & @clarys-heosphoros

tw mention of blood

“They really should start sending us after more dangerous demons” Will said, his head turning to look at Jem as he walked up to him, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “They're wasting all our potential.”

Jem grinned back at his parabatai and Will threw his arm around his shoulders as they made their way back to the institute. Charlotte had sent them off on a mission to neutralize some demons on the banks of the river Thames, near Blackfriars bridge. It was a small horde of ravener demons, easy to take down for Jem, Will and Henry.

As soon as they'd defeated the demons Henry ran back to the institute babbling something about a new antidote to the raveners' poison he had to work on, and Jem and Will stayed behind to apply  iratzes where the demons had scratched them and to catch some breath.

“I know you're rather fond of hydra and raum demons, my friend” Jem countered as they walked. “But not all demons can have laughable protuberances.”

“Oh, come on, that hydra demon from two weeks ago had somehow managed to knot two of its necks together and couldn't free itself.” Jem rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Will cut him off before he could. “I saw you stifle a laugh too, James Carstairs.”

Jem's cheeks flushed pink and Will smirked at him.

Tuned out he really couldn't lie to his parabatai. Jem threw his head back and laughed with Will, then they fell into lighthearted conversation as they closed in on Fleet Street.

The adrenaline of the battle still coursed through them both and Jem only saw the new ravener demon when it was too close to them. His jaw clenched and Will understood and turned with him, a hand going to his sword without hesitation, his senses sharpening again. Jem felt Will move beside him, but the demon took a leap and climbed up the nearest building. Jem threw a dagger at it and severed one of its legs, causing it to fall off the wall, but not hurting it enough to kill it. He lunged forward and sliced a cut on its side as Will slashed another of its legs off, their movements swift and sure, steadied by the strength of the parabatai in battle.

Jem managed to cut the demon's tail and it soon vanished back to its dimension, but before he could see or hear it, another ravener demon crawled up to him from behind, and Will lunged forward to cover him as it attacked.

Everything seemed to happen too fast. Jem saw Will running to him and throwing his blade at the demon, but before he could kill it, the tail reached his chest. Then he saw Will fall on the ground and the world seemed to vanish. He ran to him, slashing at the demon and sending it back to its dimension, but his vision was blackened at the edges and his chest hurt. He kneeled besides his parabatai and took out his stele. Will's blue eyes were closed and his breaths ragged and heavy.

“Will. Will, wake up. Open your eyes!” Jem drew three iratzes on his chest and Will's eyes fluttered open; Jem let out the breath he'd been holding.

“Jem” Will whispered, before a violent cough shook his body. He coughed blood.

Jem drew another iratze on Will's chest but the wound didn't seem to grow any smaller and the blood wouldn't stop flowing. He felt a wave of panic catch hold of him as the pain in his chest widened. He felt heavy and lost, and Will was shutting his eyes again. “Will don't close your eyes, please. Stay with me.”

Jem drew another iratze, then another one, but nothing happened. Will's breathing was slowing and he was loosing too much blood. Jem felt him slipping away. He summoned all the strength he could muster, picked up Will and ran to the institute.

———

Everything in him hurt, and Jem couldn't tell whether it was the aftermath of the battle, the effort of carrying Will, the yin fen low in his blood or Will's own pain getting to him. But he didn't care about his own pain as two Silent Brothers told him that Will's wound was deep, no vital organs were damaged but his situation was delicate.

“Will he recover?” asked Charlotte from beside him.

We cannot know yet. We will come back tomorrow to see that the injury is not infected.

Jem let the words sink in. He couldn't find anything to say or ask.

He walked in the infirmary and as his eyes laid on Will's body, still on the white sheets, his heart skipped several beats. It felt wrong. Will was always moving, always talking, always full of life. Now he laid too still, his face expressionless and his blue eyes shut.

Jem took a deep breath, then he grabbed a chair and sat besides his parabatai. He took one of Will's hands in his and brought it to his lips. “My Will” he whispered against his scarred knuckles.

———

For four days Jem didn't leave Will's side. The Silent Brothers came to check on his parabatai’s injury and they seemed less hopeful every passing day. Charlotte came in too, every day. Jem knew it costed her dearly: he could see the pain and guilt in her eyes, the fear of the knowledge that Will might not wake and that she would have been the one to send him off to his last mission. Jem wished to console her, to reassure her that Will did it to save Jem and he would have done the same for his parabatai, and that Will was stubborn and no one could have stopped him. He wished to tell her not to worry, because his parabatai would open his eyes again. But the words caught on his lips every time he tried to speak them.

Henry, Sophie and Jessamine visited too, but the sight of Will, so silent and still troubled them too. Charlotte brought in food for Jem and pleaded him to eat and go to sleep for a while, she would watch over Will, but Jem couldn't leave and he wasn't hungry.

When the Brother came back on the fourth day Jem only heard their words from a great distance.

We cannot do anything more. Should he not wake in the next 48 hours his condition will worsen.

Jem's breathing hitched. He felt something inside him break as he sat back next to Will. His Will. The other half of his soul.

He felt the thread between them loosen, he had been feeling it for days, but he clung to it like a lifeline. A tear rolled down his cheek as he leaned on and pressed his forehead to Will's, closing his eyes. “You do not get to leave first” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You don't get to leave me alone on this earth, Will Herondale. That is not how it was supposed to go.” His voice broke and he let the tears roll down, unable to stop the pain that was invading his heart. Jem took his parabatai's hand and squeezed it hard, willing him to open his eyes, to protest about the tight grip and make one of his witty remarks. “Prove me” he continued, “how truly stubborn you are. Prove me Raziel would truly send you back out of annoyance. Come back to me, Will.”

———

When he opened his eyes the light of morning painted the room in tones of yellow and gold. He didn't remember falling asleep. He shouldn't have fallen asleep.

He turned his head with a swift movement and his breath caught. Will was awake. Strands of dark curls clouded his eyes, open and beautifully blue, his face was still paler than usual but his features were relaxed and his lips curved in a smile. His hand was still clutched in Jem's.

“Oh Will.” Jem surged forward and hugged his parabatai, nuzzling his head in the curve of his neck and burying his hands in his dark hair. He heard Will chuckle and everything in the world and inside him fell back into place.

“Easy, easy” Will said, laughing softly. “I still have a massive gash somewhere around my person, I hear. Let us hope it won't scar my beautiful body too badly.”

Jem drew back and laughed as he apologized, but he stayed close to Will and drank the brilliance of his smile and the light gleaming in his eyes.

Will was finally awake.

“Oh, Will” he repeated, resting a hand on Will's cheek. “I was so worried. I felt– I felt something slitting our bond and I thought– ”

“I know” Will said before he could finish. “I felt it too. And it was worse than the pain of the wound.” He squeezed Jem's hand. “I'm sorry” he said.

“Don't you dare apologize.” Will smiled and dipped his head. “But don't ever do this again, please.”

Will's eyes met his and his parabatai’s smile grew bigger. He nodded firmly and pulled Jem in for another hug.

Jem knew that was a frail promise. Will would throw himself in front of any demon to shield Jem countless times again, if it meant he would save his life. And so would Jem. They would be in that room again, tending to wounds less serious, he hoped, but it would happen. It was the life they’d been given. it was the life they chose.

The words of the parabatai oath echoed in the back of his mind and he thought of how much of a gift and an honour it was to have, and to be, a parabatai, but how much strength it required, too.

And, as he watched the light shine in Will's eyes, he thought that Will had been his strength all along, when he couldn't fight for himself or find hope in the depth of his bones. Will was his heart, and he’d been too close to losing him.

tag list: @cordaisya @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @stxr-thxif @icycoolslushie @writeforjordelia @gabtapia @fair-childd @clarys-heosphoros (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: it’s over. the ruse is up.

wc: 2.1k

tw: none

masterlist

“Have you ever considered just not going to meet the Prince and remaining in your rooms?” Kaori wonders as you sharpen a blade with a rock. “I mean, I’m sure he wouldn't bother you if you assumed the appearance of an invalid. How about getting out of town for a week?” 

She’s tried everything to get you to reconsider your stance on killing Prince Naoya. Any theory, any loophole, any cop-out; Kaori’s said it. But you have no choice. Geto has to be avenged, and the only way you can manage vengeance is killing the man who sent your lover to his death. 

“Listen, we have only a couple of days left. We can use poison, strangulation, accidental drowning, and straight-up murder - which I think is the messier of the bunch.” Toji ticks off methods as he watches you work away at the blade with determination. “I vote we poison his food, and if that doesn’t work, smothering can go a long way.” Megumi peers into the little pond in front of him as his father discusses treason, entirely uninterested in anything but finding another frog to play with. You envy the child and wish that you could take his place, forgetting everything else except the current pursuit of a frog. But your frog is much more elusive, slippery, and well-guarded.

“We have to drug the guards first,” you note, and Toji grunts affirmatively, biting his lip as he stares past you, deep in thought. You look at the scar on his mouth and squint, wondering if you’re just now noticing the pink-ish raised mark or if you’d seen it before, but never noted the way it looks against his tanned skin in the sunlight. You look away before anyone can accuse you of staring, but make a note to ask about the injury later. 

“How can you be assured that none of this will affect your parents?” Kaori wonders, and you look at her with a pensive stare. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t affect them. They know nothing of the plot and I--”

“If you’re dead, you can’t defend them,” she reminds you, and for a moment, you reconsider the plan altogether. 

“Toji, do you think you could get my parents out of here safely?” 

“I can’t guarantee shit,” he replies, resting his chin on his palm as his green eyes focus in on you again. “But I can sure as hell try.” He adds when you give him a defeated look. You respond to his addition with a half-smile, and he rolls his eyes at the sight, huffing out a short breath. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Try and hit me,” Toji encourages you, and you reach a hand out to slap him across the face. But you miss entirely and stumble forward, almost face-planting into the ground. “You can’t put all of your force in your upper body like that.” He chastises, stepping in front of you again. 

“Give me a rake and we’ll see about that,” you counter, earning you a loud laugh. Toji takes his stance again, hands prepared for a fight. 

“Come on, little girl, put up a serious fight. You don’t need a rake.” You inhale deeply, centering yourself with one foot placed behind you at an angle and one foot in front, planted firmly into the dirt. “Hit me.” 

The roundhouse kick narrowly misses Toji’s tan face, and his eyes widen as your heel barely scrapes his nose. 

“I said hit me, not kill me!” The bodyguard gripes, and you laugh at his overly-surprised expression and step back, holding your stomach as you bend over in a fit of giggles. When you stop and straighten back up, you catch Toji staring at you in wonder. 

“What?” 

“Your laugh… I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.” At the mention of your enjoyment, you hum thoughtfully, realizing, yes - you hadn’t laughed so heartily in a long time. But in his moment of unguardedness, you shoot your hand out - the fist making contact with his gut immediately. He grunts, holding his abs and wincing a little. “You… fucking... bi--” Before he can finish his sentence and grab you, you take off for the hill behind the house, laughing as you run with all of your might.

But Toji catches up to you easily, grabbing your elbow and making you tumble to the grass, then roll back down the hill in his arms. As you roll - and scream - grass and dirt and wildflowers are kicked up and tossed into your hair and clothes, dirtying your face as well. When you stop though, you’re on top of Toji, and his arms are crushing you against his chest protectively. 

“You can let go now,” you groan, and he opens his emerald eyes, staring right into yours with an intensity you’ve only seen on one other person’s face. “Toji…” you whisper, and his face changes again, now softer and much more… relaxed, if that was even possible. He blinks, and you pause, recognizing the meaning behind his looks. “Fushiguro, I--” He lets you go immediately, clearing his throat and standing. 

“We should get back before dinner. I’m fucking starving.” He saunters off with his hands in his pockets, not even offering to help you up off of the ground.  

_______________________________________________________________________

The moon hovers precariously in the night sky, illuminating the garden directly below it and bathing you in moonlight. You’re only a few hours away from meeting Prince Naoya, and it’s the thought of seeing him face-to-face that keeps you up tonight. What would he look like? Would he know who you are? Would he ask you any questions about Geto? 

Your eyes rest on the reflection of the moon in the fountain, Toji’s old dagger resting in your lap. 

“It ain’t much,” he mumbled when he handed it to you. “But if something happens, whether it’s with the food or the smothering... You’ve got this dagger.” Then he showed you how to murder someone quickly by using a pillow and your dagger, aiming precisely for the open space between his ribcage. “Stab once, pull it out, and run like hell if you want.” 

You inhale deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air. 

“Cold out here,” Toji mumbles, rubbing his arms as he walks out of the house barefoot. “Can’t sleep, y/n?” 

“No,” you admit, then jerk your chin at him. “You?” 

“I don’t get much rest these days,” he replies, sitting beside you at the fountain. “Worried about tomorrow?” You look over at the green-eyed man and blink, your blank expression telling all. “Well, I’m not. You’re going to be fine.” 

“And what will you do when you have to watch me be executed?” you tease, but Toji’s eyes fall to the fountain, eyeing the moon’s reflection. 

“It’ll be sad. But I understand why you have to do what you’re doing.” 

“Toji Fushiguro? Sad?” You laugh, but he gives you a withering look instead of laughing along with you. 

“Listen, I’ve made a lot of off-color remarks, but I meant what I said. You’re a great person, and I would hate to see your life go to waste over some petty vendetta.” His mumbling catches you off guard, but you say nothing in response, opting to look down at the dagger instead. “But, you’re determined to pursue your lover into the afterlife; I get it. You must really be in love with him.”

“I am,” you reply, still not looking at Toji.

“Well, since you’re going to die tomorrow, I might as well be transparent with you,” Toji whispers. “You know, looking after you was a pain in the ass at first.” You frown at him, wondering what kind of comment that is, but he continues anyways. “But you grew on me. Shit, watching you for these months has become enjoyable, more exciting than the idiocy I used to do before. Y/n… I’m--” Toji swallows hard, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “I’m... going to miss you.” Toji leans in slowly, placing a rough hand on your right cheek before kissing the other cheek with a tenderness you always knew he held deep inside. Once he pulls away, he stands, raking his hands through his short hair and sighing before walking back into the house. But you’re left outside, wondering what could’ve been if you weren’t so hell-bent on bringing your dead lover justice. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The sounds of horses, bells, cheering, chants, cacophony… too much noise.

You can hear it all from your position in the kitchen. The village is louder than it’s ever been before, and all the noise provides the perfect background noise to you and your mother’s preparing food for the six of you already living in the house and about thirteen guests- the seven guards, the four servants, a royal advisor, and finally, Prince Naoya. The resulting feast will outshine any feast your mother has cooked before, and you know that the village will speak of the honor bestowed upon your house and the cooking from it for at least a day. 

The next day, they will be lamenting the loss of the eldest son of the Imperial Court, and rejoicing upon your execution. Just like they celebrated Geto’s death. 

Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy, Su, you pray as you peel a leek with precision. Only a few more hours and Naoya would be within your reach. 

First, you’d drug him with a powder Toji had acquired in exchange for… something unmentionable that he wouldn’t divulge. Second, you would help the prince off to his bed as the drug took hold of him and tuck him in. Then, you’d smother him to death. If that didn’t work - “and there’s a chance that it might not”, Toji warned - you would stab him in the heart. Death would reach the Prince’s soul before the morning light. And you would be ready to die the next day, all to meet Geto in whatever world he had passed on to.

An icy hand grips your heart as the hours pass.

The thought of rejoining your lover - feeling his arms around you, touching his hair, looking into his black eyes - is more than enough for you to pretend everything is alright. All you’re doing is making the most of the last few hours you have with your family, Kaori, Toji, and Megumi. The small child is parading about in his newest outfit, displaying his hakama and haori for all to see and coo over. Toji wears a matching outfit, the clouds and animals drifting about his black haori reminding you of a zoo display and of the days you wish you could have. 

You’re wearing your best kimono - the peach one Kaori dressed you in the day you left the camp; Suguru’s mother’s kimono. It’s all too beautiful, really. Everyone is dressed up like royalty, but you’re the only one who came dangerously close to that life and escaped by the grace of a certain General who had your heart. Now, you would murder royalty and die as much of an outcast that Suguru was. 

After you wash your hands in the fountain, you place the dagger inside your kimono and look at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Color had returned to your cheeks over the past few days, and a certain look in your eye had become commonplace. You had something to live for, and these days would remain in your memory as the best days you’ve had since Geto died. 

“They’re coming up the path,” Kaori hisses as she walks past you, ushering Megumi and Toji to the door behind your mother and father. “Come on.” You follow them obediently, standing behind your father and mother as the procession winds its way down the road. While soldiers, musicians, villagers, everyone is parading in front of the carriage carrying the murderer of your lover, you look to the ground and clench your fists. Your resolve steels itself in your spine as you hear the procession get even closer, the clanging making your jaw tighten and your knees tremble. Too much noise, too much noise, too much noise for a man who slaughtered innocents.

The music dies down when the carriage comes to a halt, but the sound of children excitedly squealing nearby. You keep your eyes downcast, not daring to look the spiteful man in the face or attract attention to yourself. The echo of children’s excited chatter stabs you in the heart even deeper - how could children be excited by this killer? - and you try to block out the memories of Itadori, Junpei, and Nobara, but to no avail. 

You’re trying so hard that tears are streaming down your face, and mucus gathers in your nose as you begin to cry quietly. Megumi reaches up to grab your hand tenderly, holding it in his five little fingers as you hear the door to the carriage swing open slowly. You avoid looking, and sniff so hard you almost miss the first words out of a certain blue-eyed bastard’s mouth: 

“Whoa; watch your step, Yuji! You don’t want to fall in front of Lady y/n, do you?”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha​ @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ @fuegy-fuegy​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Song Ask Hollis & Snow?

(no I will not ignore this I'm so here for this actually)

10. Their worst enemy — I Want My Innocence Back, Emilie Autumn

I want my innocence back / And if you can't give it to me / I will cut you down / And I will run you through / With the dagger you sharpened / On my body and soul

Send me an OC + a number

[moonlightray18]

Part 2/2: Parting (Dream Sans Writeup)

Dream was in the Original Outertale. 

At once, he noticed fight before him. 

Error was fighting Ink and Blue.

Nightmare and his entire gang were wracking havoc.

Dream swept his tears away. No point drawing attention to himself. He dashed towards Nightmare and his gang, drawing their attention almost immediately.

“Stop it Nightmare!” He cried out, but his soul sang silently a song of relief and happiness. “This is an Original AU! You can’t destroy it!”

“Why not?” Nightmare purred, his gang members sharpening their weapons. “I can do whatever I want. I’m helping my friend, after all.” 

“What do you mean?” Dream asked, as he dodged bone after bone.

“Error is having problems about his Balance.” Dust smirked. “So we figured, why not destroy one of the originals? Of course, you wouldn’t know that Error had a Balance, didn’t you?”

Dream froze, allowing a blaster enough time to singe his arm, but he barely noticed. He stared on.

The gang prodded on further. “What, did you think that Error destroys for absolutely no reason?” Horror jeered. 

“How long had you known about Error’s Balance?” Dream asked.

“A year or so ago.” Nightmare’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. You knew?”

“Let’s just say it was quite easy to connect the dots.” Dream remarked as he swerved away from yet another barrage of knives.  

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” Cross snarled.

“I had my own matters to attend to.” Dream replied back.

“What matters does someone like you even have to attend to, anyway? You should had helped Error if you knew!”

Dream really couldn’t help it. He tried to keep it in, he really did. But he ended out snorting in laughter.

He knew he was going to die today anyway, so what was the point in keeping it in?

“Do you think that’s funny?” Horror roared out in rage.

Then, the long awaited moment came.

Nightmare, who was trembling with anger throughout Dream’s laughing fit, lashed out his tentacles, trapping him and preventing him from escaping, before stabbing a tentacle out.

It stuck out right through his ribcage, and right through the other side. It missed his soul, however...

His body could no longer take the damage.

It didn’t hurt, Dream realized. And for that, he was grateful.

Flecks of dust came off the small figure before them all.

Dream smiled. 

Nightmare and his gang froze. Ink, Blue and Error froze when they noticed the dusting figure in the middle of the battle.

“W-what?” Nightmare stuttered. “That shouldn’t have done that! We’re immortal!”

The dusting guardian laughed.

“Ah... so I’m dying now...”

“How the hell are you so calm?” Killer freaked.

“I’ve always wanted to finally pass on, Killer. I could never, because of immortality. But a turn of events finally let me, and for that I am grateful.”

“I-I...” Nightmare mumbled. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know. And I don’t blame you, Brother.” Dream lifted up a dusting hand, and stroked Nightmare’s face. “I knew I was going to die anyway. But, it doesn’t hurt. If anything, I’m at peace. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

“I love you, Nighty. If you want answers, I had written a letter in an envelope in my pocket. As my last wish, I want all of you to read it together. Thank you all, for being with me. Goodbye, everyone.”

And with that, Dream shut his eyes with a smile as his form crumbled, leaving a wake of dust behind.

----

Screaming had erupted and explanations had been given, until they all sat in a circle around the envelope that they had fished out, as told.

It was gold in color, signed with Dream’s name.

“Okay. Who’s going to open it?” Ink snapped. 

Error’s hand trembled as he reached out and grasped the envelope.

Everyone’s eyes turned to him in surprise.

“...iF hE KnEw ABoUt mY baLAnCe, i wAnT tO kNoW wHy hE dIDN’t dO anYtHinG.”

Their looks all turned solemn.

Error opened it with ease, stretching in it to unfold a piece of white paper, full of handwriting.

----

To my brother and his gang, the remaining Star Sanses, and Error.

Hello, everyone. 

If you are reading this, I would probably be dead. If anything, I had it coming. I had been getting visions of dying more and more often, and have been getting more details as time goes by.

If you are reading this, you are also probably looking for answers. So I’ll go straight to the point.

You probably already know the Balance between Life and Death. Creation and Destruction has one too, although it is less well-known. If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask Error. 

But every Balance has a Yin and Yang side. The Yin side is naturally easier to level, while the Yang side of it is slightly harder to induce.

You may be asking. ‘But Dream, how do you know this?’

So I’ll tell you how I know.

There is another Balance.

One that is less well known than Creation and Destruction.

One that only I am aware of.

Hard to swallow, isn’t it?

For it is my Balance.

Positivity and Negativity, to be exact. 

And it is already crumbling.

It had already started off as an unfair battle, my one positive apple compared to my brother’s 99.  That should had been hard already.

Then came the rest of you. I knew my Balance was finished as soon as I saw the five of you, but I couldn’t help but feel proud instead.

You finally decided to get along with people; that was my first thought.

My powers had started to wain, as the Negative side of the spectrum took over. First, my weapon selection. At first, I could summon daggers, but now, it is way out of my reach. I was only left with my bow; a long range fighter.

In other words, a sitting duck.

Then, even that power started to wane. My aura weakened later after. My healing nearly completely went with it. And then, my form. My H.P. was no longer infinity, my bones becoming weaker. That was when I knew I was going to die soon.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone; and in my state I figured it was already too late.

So I gave up. Pathetic of me, isn’t it?

...I’m sorry. For being so selfish. But...

Keep smiling, all of you, okay?

Love,

Dream Joku.

----

By the end of the letter, everyone was either stunned, or crying. 

The negative guardian had long burst into tears somewhere during the middle of the letter.

----

The Multiverse all mourned that day, for the fallen guardian.

And from then on, nothing was ever the same.

[moonlitceleste]

straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again. 

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[yespolkadotkitty]

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything. 

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust. 

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn  - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday. 

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully. 

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length. 

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches. 

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him. 

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on. 

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface​ for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog​ @spacegayofficial​  @tiffdawg​ and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @just-the-hiddles​ @littlemissthistle​ @palaiasaurus64​ @adorkabeezle​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ please ask to be added or released!