#with their torches and stupid ass black shirts

[seance]

f*scism never left this shithole of a country but now it's really back in full glam without even a hint of shame. they don't have to hide anymore cause they're protected, glorified and everywhere: in the government, in every single position of power and into the streets. they literally crawled back from the sewers like the purtrid cockroaches they are and even if the rest of us is just as loud, they know they don't risk anything by being increasingly more violent and oppressive cause everyone else will just be beaten and arrested while they stand there with their stupid hands up in a r*man s*lute like it's just another thursday 🤡

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

18 for the spotify wrapped game, please and thank you!

#18 - "Black No. 1" by Type O Negative

For the Spotify Wrapped Snippet Game

This is definitely an Ollie song/band (though, actually, she doesn't dye her hair fyi). I don't have her "voice" figured out yet, so this also made for a fun way to give it a try. Thanks for sending the prompt in!

Dysthanasia Taglist: @thecyrulik @theimperiumchronicles @k--havok (Sorry, I forget to do this so often that a couple of you might have no idea what's going on in this ^^;)

Words: 1,008

Content Advisory: Swearing, (mostly) joking references to violence

“Ollie?”

She was pretty sure she’d never heard Mergus shout before, actually. It was impressive he could make himself heard over the aneurysm-inducing volume of her stereo at all.

“Ollie!”

She kept ripping the stupid sticky notes from her bedroom wall, wadding them up and hurling them to the carpet, but with only a fraction of her attention.

“Oleander Blume.”

Oh, well, golly gee. Guess she was really in for it now. Smirking, she turned and spotted Mergus standing in front of the stereo set-up, hands shielding his ears. He’d lived through the Black Death, Industrial Revolution, and the Break, but couldn’t find the pause icon on a control panel. She strolled over and slid the volume bar down until only the tinny ringing of temporarily damaged hearing remained. With a sigh, Mergus lowered his hands.

“How on Earth could playing racket at that level be enjoyable?”

“Oh, what, you never cranked your hurdy-gurdy as hard as you could just to forget about the world for a while, old man?”

For that, he looked up at her with his Fledglings These Days Face. Though she rolled her eyes, Ollie pulled the hood of her sweatshirt back and swiped stray wisps of blonde hair away from her cheeks.

“Fine. I’m listening, okay?”

Rather than come right out with what he wanted, Mergus went and perched on the end of her bed. A vision of order and dignity in his flawlessly pressed suit against the backdrop of her tangled pentagram-pattern bedspread and a pile of black and red laundry she still hadn’t hauled to the washer. He plucked a pair of ripped jeans and a fishnet shirt out of the way so he could pat the spot next to him. Damn, it was going to be that kind of night then. Ollie dragged her combat boots as she walked, but parked her ass where told to all the same.

“Whatever it is, just say it. That fucking ghost got into my room again, so I’m not in the mood for a long fireside chat.”

His gaze flickered over to the remaining collage of sticky notes that had spelled her name out in spiky, three-foot high letters. “I thought one of Hawthorne’s aides warded your suite recently.”

“Well, that crusty ass zombie obviously didn’t send one of his best or brightest because the stupid haint made a mess.” Added to it. Whatever.

“Ceph only acts out for attention. They’d leave you be if you acknowledge them once in a while.”

“They’d be out of my hair permanently if I torched their room too.”

He didn’t dignify that with more than a raised eyebrow. He didn’t have to. Not when the memory of Wes Mayer attempting to do the same thing was still a household punchline. Of course, the ass-dragging mutt didn’t have enough brains or subtlety to fill a thimble either. Ollie, on the other hand, made a living on sneaky strategy.

“I stopped by,” Mergus said, “because I have an assignment out on the coast for you.”

“With who?” She already saw it coming, of course. The second he mentioned where they’d be going she knew.

Ollie still let out an agonized groan and flopped back on the bed, arms straight out to the sides as if she’d been crucified, when Mergus answered, “Renato.”

“Why don’t you just send a fluffy little dog along with me instead? Would be about as useful.”

The fine lines gathered in the corners of his eyes and lips deepened with the onset of his I’m Really Quite Serious Face. “I’ve considered the requirements carefully. This is the best way to meet all of them.”

“The best way to finally drive me bugfuck, you mean.” Sweet Satan on a stick. She could already imagine it. Having to watch him preen in the visor mirror every thirty seconds. Controlling her gag reflex while he flirted with every stranger from there to the Pacific. Listening to him bring up that goldfish for the billionth time. She’d beat his perfectly-shaped skull in with a tire iron before they got halfway to their destination.

“I already took into account your history together,” Mergus said. If bloodborn could develop gray hairs, his neat curls and close-cropped beard would’ve had new streaks. “You’ll be taking separate cars, staying in separate accommodations for the most part—but you will work together if it comes down to a fight. Is that understood?”

Ollie lifted her head enough to meet his stern gaze, her eyebrows and curiosity raised. “Who are we fighting?”

“If all goes well, drastic action won’t be necessary.”

“Is it Grandpa Ghoul or Muttley Mayer? Or both?”

He surrendered with a sigh. “Hawthorne and I have…not yet come to an agreement on how to best handle the matter.”

She grinned. “So, keep our heads on a swivel and chainsaw any ouroboroi that get in the way in half.”

Fledglings These Days Face made another cameo. “I’ll stress again that violence is a last resort. And you are not packing a chainsaw.”

“Fine.” She stuck her tongue out.“Spoilsport.”

“Can I rely on you to be civil in a meeting with Renato when I give you both your instructions then? Say, nine o’clock, my office?”

Propping herself on her elbows, Ollie made a show of considering it. “I’ll try to keep the biting and stabbing to a minimum. Sure.”

The smile that made his eyes glitter was worth any future headache. Mergus patted her knee and stood, smoothing his jacket and tie into place. “It means a lot, coming from you, my girl.”

Once alone again, Ollie glanced over at the small hill of laundry. With only a slight scowl, she got up and started stuffing it into a bag to take to the wash room. She was going to need clean clothes to pack soon. Good thing ninety-nine percent of her wardrobe consisted of black. When she made a mess with that chainsaw she planned to buy on the trip, the stains would never show.

[devilrainbunnie]

._ anthurium pt 2 _.

tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

1/X/3

CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)

a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.

Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this. 

But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.

He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy. 

You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine. 

Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks. 

He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him. 

...

The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.

He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.

He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting. 

Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.

“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.” 

“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.

“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.

“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”

“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”

“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”

“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.

“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet. 

“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying. 

The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.

...

Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?

He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t. 

“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.

In another life, I guess.

^^^

The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water. 

You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different. 

Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.

For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?

Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.

You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.

“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”

“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”

“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”

“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.

“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--” 

He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”

“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”

“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.

You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.

After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”

“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”

“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.

“Giran?” you called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.

“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”

“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself. 

Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him. 

Always, and forever, love him.

--

Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything. 

There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.

After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.

“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.

“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.” 

“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”

“Thanks.” 

“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.

“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness. 

“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door. 

--

Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face. 

“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.

Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.

“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.

You loved him.

But could you even forgive him?

[sixmapleleafs]

Can you do 10 with Freddie?

10. “I hate this so much” “see, the thing is I don’t think you do”

When Steph asked you to water the plants at her place whilst she was out of town for the week, you of course said yes, sure the house she shared with Mitch was a little far from your apartment but you’d do anything to help your best friend. Tonight, the rain was pouring down over Toronto, thunder and lightning clashing every so often making you jump a little every time. You’d managed to leave work a little early to head over to the house, but as you drove the rain showed no signs of stopping in fact it was only getting worse. You pulled into the driveway, entering the code to the gate and pulling up in front of the house. You hurried inside but you still ended up getting completely drenched, once inside you slid off your now soaking wet shoes and switched on the lights so you could see where you were going. Another clash of thunder made you jump and you made sure to lock the door behind you, since this was starting to feel like every serial killer movie you’d ever seen.

The soft sound of your feet hitting the floor was the only sound that could be heard as you followed the routine you’d established over the last few days of watering every plant in the house, which was a lot more than you had originally expected. Eventually, you returned to the kitchen to place the jug back on the counter for tomorrow and as you were drying it you heard the sound of the front door being opened. You froze in your place, eyes widening and mouth going dry. Someone was trying to get in. The sound of the door closing and someone stepping inside had you panicking and trying to think of a plan, you could hear the footsteps getting closer to you and you knew you were running out of time. Failing to come up with another plan you ducked down under the kitchen island, hoping the barstools would cover you enough that the intruder wouldn’t see you, you clamped your hand over your mouth as you heard the person enter the kitchen.

“Y/n?” A deep voice called out. A somewhat familiar deep voice.

“Freddie?” You asked hesitantly poking your head out from under the counter and peering over to see Freddie stood on the other side. He let out a laugh as you emerged fully, straightening your clothes and dusting yourself off.

“Why were you under the counter?” He managed to get out through his laughter, you sent him an unimpressed look and rolled your eyes. He always annoyed you so much and you couldn’t really understand why. For some reason his presence just irritated you.

“I thought you were an intruder or something. What the hell are you even doing here?” You huffed out, mainly embarrassed but also annoyed that you now had to spend time with your least favourite person.

“Mitch asked me to move their patio furniture into the garage so it doesn’t get damaged in the storm. What are you doing here?”

“Well if you must know, I’ve been watering their plants whilst they’re out of town. Luckily I’ve already finished” you didn’t even look at him as you turned and headed towards the front door. As you were slipping your shoes on another clash of thunder shook through the house and you almost jumped right out of your skin, suddenly everything went pitch black and you let out a defeated sigh. Of course the power would go out.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me” Freddie’s voice made you jump and you didn’t miss the grin on his face as he leant against the wall.

“I can still go home, doesn’t matter if the power is out or not” you said rolling your eyes at his cockiness and grabbing your key to open the door.

“Well actually, the gate is electric and no electricity means the gate won’t open, so you are stuck here”

Fuck. Of course this would happen to you. You let out a dramatic sigh, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag back down by the door. You rolled your eyes as you pushed past Freddie’s large frame, the stupid smirk still on his face.

Not even ten minutes later you’re stood on Mitch and Steph’s back deck with a torch in your hand, rain coming down even stronger now, battering against the hood of your coat which was pulled up over your head. Freddie’s removed his jacket and his hoodie, leaving him in just a black T-shirt which is now completely soaked through, you told him it was a stupid idea but he insisted it was ��genius’ because he could just take off the wet T-shirt and put on his nice warm, dry hoodie and you were really starting to regret mocking him and not following his plan. Since the power was out and night had fallen over Toronto, Freddie had dragged you outside with him to hold a torch he found in the garage so that he could see what he was doing as he moved the patio furniture out of the rain.

You hated how your eyes were drawn to him as he did so, the black T-shirt now clinging to his muscular figure, particularly his toned back muscles and thick arms. You had to clench your thighs together at the thought of feeling them beneath your palms and running your nails across them, each time he would bend over to pick up a chair your mind would slip down the gutter and each and every time you would scold yourself. Luckily Freddie couldn’t see you staring at him, you knew he didn’t need another ego boost. By the time the two of you were finally making your way inside, you were drenched and shivering and most definitely miserable. Freddie disappeared into the house for a few minutes and you sighed in misery trying to figure out what you were going to do now, you couldn’t go home, you didn’t want to stay here with him but you didn’t really have a choice. You managed to peel your jacket and hoodie from your body leaving you in your soaked through black tank top which was clinging to your skin.

“Here, take this” Freddie’s deep voice scared you once again and you rolled your eyes, you had a habit of getting lost in your thoughts and zoning out from the outside world, and you always literally jumped back to reality. You accepted the towel from his hands, murmuring out a thank you. You desperately tried to divert your eyes when Freddie gripped the bottom of his T-shirt, removing the wet fabric from his body but you couldn’t help but linger a little on the defined muscles of his back and shoulders as he ran his own towel over himself before drying off his hair. His eyes locked with yours for a second and you saw the corners of his lips twitch up into a smirk, but you decided against suffering through whatever he was about to say, a chirp no doubt, and moved towards the living room. You sat on the couch, wrapping the towel around yourself, still slightly shivering. The house was still dark, the only light in the room was coming from your phone, you could hear Fred walking around the kitchen and eventually he joined you in the living room, you glanced up from your phone to see him crouched in front of the fire place, still shirtless, and you realised he was probably trying to figure how to start the fire. You stayed quiet as he messed around with a few things and burned through a few matches until finally there was a small fire going and the light illuminated the room.

“You should take your clothes off” his words had your jaw dropping and your head snapping up to see where he was stood in front of you, towering over you.

“Excuse me?” You tried to make your voice sound as steady as possible but it came out the opposite of what you wanted. He smirked at your response, clearly amused at how flustered you had become.

“You’ll get sick if you sit in wet clothes all night, sweetheart” you rolled your eyes at the nickname and shook your head.

“I don’t have anything to change into, and I’m not going to just sit here in my underwear” you swore you saw Fred smirk for second before he was grabbing the hoodie you hadn’t noticed was on the back of the couch and handing it to you.

“You can have this, just until your clothes dry out a little at least, come on I’m just trying to help you”.

You huffed as you stood up, grabbing the hoodie and heading to the bathroom to change. You had to admit this whole night was very confusing and you were starting to feel very conflicted about your feelings towards Freddie. Sure he was annoying and always laughing at you and smirking when you embarrassed yourself but he was also incredibly good looking and for some reason wasn’t being a total pain the ass right now. In fact he was being nice. The fact that his hoodie was covering your figure didn’t help at all, it was warm and dry and smelt like his cologne and mint.

Freddie took your wet clothes from you when you made your way back into the living room, he hung them up over the fireplace with his own T-shirt and the sweats he must’ve taken off whilst you were in the bathroom. You tried desperately to keep your eyes from wondering over his practically naked figure as he sat on the opposite end of the couch, you felt his eyes on you every so often but tried to focus on your phone and the conversation you were having with Steph about your current situation. She told you not worry and to stay at her house for as long as you need, you could even stay the night in the guest room if needs be but you hoped it wouldn’t come to that. You didn’t think you could handle being stuck in the same house as him all night. The sight of Freddie getting up and leaving the room caught your attention and you couldn’t help but stare as he walked away. A few minutes later he was back, now with two beers in his hands.

“Just saw that they don’t think the power will be back on until tomorrow so we should probably get comfortable here” he offered you a beer and you took it gratefully, offering him a small smile in return, probably the first real smile since you’d met him.

“Steph said we can sleep in their guest rooms, and that we can eat whatever we can find” Fred let out a chuckle and it brought a smile to your face. He sat down then but not back in his original seat, this time he was right next to you. “What are you doing?” You managed to stumble out.

“You’re still shivering, we should probably stay close together, share body heat or whatever” you were about to protest when you felt his arm wrap around your waist pulling you into his side, so you were tucked under his arm. His body was firm and warm beside you and you couldn’t help but lean into him.

“You’re practically naked, how are you so warm?” You mumbled and you felt him chuckle beside you.

“I’ve been messing with the fire all night, this is ok right? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” his words were almost soft and you knew you should pull away but you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

“I hate this so much, but I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world” Freddie’s laugh was loud and uncontrolled as he took in your words.

“See, the thing is I don’t think you do, I’ve seen you looking at me and I don’t think you hate me as much as you pretend you do, sweetheart” you didn’t really have a response to that and you opened and closed your mouth a few times but no words came out. “I don’t hate you either, you know? You’ve never seemed to want anything to do with me so I didn’t make an effort to get to know you but maybe I should have” you honestly didn’t have any words.

“What do you mean by that, Fred?”

“You’re gorgeous and seeing you in my hoodie and...” he took a deep breath, his gaze shifting over your figure, “...not much else, I guess it just opened my eyes a little” you felt the heat in your cheeks as he stared at you intensely, clearly waiting for you to make the next move. Before you could stop yourself you reached up to press a short kiss to his lips and his hand came up to cradle your cheek, as you pulled apart he smiled, well more like smirked, down at you his thumb still rubbing over your cheek slowly.

“I take it you feel the same way” you nodded at his words before bringing him down into another kiss, this one much more heated than the last and soon you were laying beneath Freddie, tongues still slipping against each other as he grinded his hips into your slowly.

“Fred...” you whimpered out as his lips travelled down your neck, leaving bite marks here and there, “Fred we really can’t have sex on their couch” the only response was Freddie’s smirk and you rolled your eyes once again, Fred might have been one of the most annoying people you have ever met but his teasing was for a very different reason from that night on.

[emachinescat]

So I've been wanting to write this since 5x10, but just now got the chance. This is a look at the ending scene from Murdoc's creepy, possessive obsession with Mac, and it plays with the idea of what might have happened if Bozer hadn't done the trick with the static (sorry Boze for taking away your moment of glory, but creepy Murdoc trumps hero time). Anyway, I hope you enjoy my twist on this episode. It was fun to write. Murdoc is fun to write. What does that say about me? ;)

Title: Murdoc + MacGyver - Everyone Else | Fandom: MacGyver 2016

Summary: AU ending to 5x10. Murdoc never planned on killing MacGyver in that skyscraper. Certainly not for the likes of Andrews. Or, in which Bozer doesn't do his trick with the comms and Murdoc sends a very clear message to all of Codex that MacGyver is HIS.

Characters | Pairings: Murdoc, Mac, Andrews, Riley, Desi

Words: 2,594

TW: Murdoc being creepier than usual, I guess

AO3 Tags: Murdoc Is Obsessed with MacGyver, Obsessive Murdoc, Possessive Murdoc, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump. Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Season/Series 05, 5x10, 5x10 au, Implied MacRiley, Manhandling, Creepy Murdoc (MacGyver TV 2016), Obsessive Behavior, TW Creepy Obsession, Diamond + Quake + Carbon + Comms + Tower, Murdoc POV

Full story here or on AO3!

It was adorable, really, Murdoc thought as he lowered the improvised cutting torch slowly, steadily, agonizingly closer to MacGyver’s bruised and bloody face, that Eric Andrews thought that Murdoc was going to go through with this.  The general was a ridiculous man, the kind that Murdoc most enjoyed killing.  Arrogant and pretentious,yet stupid enough to believe he could manipulate, even control, Murdoc, he was a man who would look lovely with Murdoc’s gun pressed squarely between his eyes.

Yet despite his faults, he had been useful.  He’d helped Murdoc escape from the blacksite, and in return, Murdoc had vowed to help him set a trap for MacGyver.  Andrews wanted to broadcast Angus’s death to the heads of a terror cell.  It was his way of “interviewing” to become the head of the organization.  And what would Murdoc get out of this arrangement?  Other than his freedom, he would be given the opportunity to play with MacGyver before Andrews dealt the final blow.

So Murdoc used Andrews to escape the blacksite, and together they set this ingenious little trap for the genius himself.  He’d used Andrews and his resources as a means of playing his newest game.  He smiled and nodded when Andrews spouted his rhetoric, adjusted his plans as Andrews directed, and valiantly kept from gutting the egocentric wackadoodle – somehow – during the course of their time together.  He’d almost snapped and killed the guy, once.

He hated the way that Andrews spoke about his Angus MacGyver, gloated about how cathartic it would be to see the light go out of those blue eyes.  How he relished the notion of feeling MacGyver’s life sleep away, how he fantasized about wrapping his chains around that smooth, pale neck and squeezing , slowly and intimately, with all of Codex watching – after Murdoc had had his fun with him, of course.

Murdoc’s profession had always allowed him to maintain a rather fluid lifestyle, and until MacGyver had come onto the scene, the killer had moved from one job to the next without distraction.  He had never been one to get caught up or fixated on any one thing – as a killer, he understood the impermanence of life in a way few others could.

That is, until Angus “Boy Wonder” MacGyer.  Suddenly, Murdoc had a muse, a partner in his games, a worthy opponent, his very own Sherlock to his Moriarty.  And the thought of anyone – especially Andrews, that self-important crackpot who was so empty all he could do was spout the words of people who’d come before him – looking at Angus MacGyver with that kind of fire in their eyes, that kind of hatred, that dark intent, stirred something primal and angry deep within the hollow, twisted remnants of Murdoc’s soul.  Even worse was hearing that obnoxious, pedantic voice boasting about all the ways he planned to hurt MacGyver, all the ways he planned to kill him in front of a live studio audience.  A foregin, almost protective rush had overcome Murdoc.  The things that Andrews described, the torture, the killing itself – those were things that no one except for Murdoc himself could do to Angus MacGyver.

Murdoc could have snapped and killed him, then.  He almost had.  The trap had been set, MacGyver would soon be on his way.  Murdoc could take out Andrews in one surprise hit and wait for his BFF to arrive.  They might even get some time alone together before the rest of the love triangle showed up.  But he had stayed his hand.  He needed Andrews to contact Codex.  He had a message he needed to send.

And so he’d resisted the drumbeats of death so loud they blocked out his thoughts, and hadn’t put a bullet between Andrews’s eyes.

And now, here he was, in the moment of truth.  It had been a bold move, out of character, if you will, for Murdoc to take on MacGyver in hand-to-hand combat.  Normally, Murdoc avoided using brute force, not because it wasn’t fun – because, boy howdy, was it fun – but because his tools were much more precise than fists, and could cause more pain with less chance of unintended damage.

But this was a special occasion, and he allowed himself to indulge.  And it was a truly delicious situation, made all the more exhilarating with the knowledge that so many people were watching him work.  Not Codex – he hadn’t given a rat’s ass about Codex in that moment – but Phoenix, whom Murdoc had just manipulated and played with like a puppet master with his creepy little mannequins.  He kept an eye on the girls, and chills ran down his body as he saw the fear and desperation in their eyes, the way they strained helplessly against their bonds to get to their friend who was himself completely at Murdoc’s mercy.  He couldn’t see Matilda or Bozer or Taylor, but he could hear the fear in their voices when they spoke, and his mind’s eye conjured a splendid picture of their terrified eyes fixated on the screen, forced to watch as their golden boy was beaten and eventually murdered in front of them.  It was glorious .  Murdoc wished that moment could go on forever.

He truly had relished every hit he’d landed on MacGyver.  Bless him, he tried to fight back, but he was just a spy trained in field comat.  Murdoc was a killer.  Just because he didn’t use his fists that much anymore, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to.  He was quick, and stronger than his lithe frame would suggest.  Beneath the long-sleeved shirts and black leather jackets, lean, deadly muscles lurked like a snake in the grass, always ready to strike – and strike fast.  Every kick, every hit, every punch to the face sent bolts of electricity up Murdoc’s arms.  He saw the moment when MacGyver’s cheek split open, watched the blood slowly trickle down as he wound up for another hit.  After about three hits directly to the face, MacGyver couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he made weak, desperate grabs for Murdoc’s jacket.  Murdoc felt the tug on the fabric, relished the feeling of MacGyver needing him in that moment.  When he threw MacGyver against the heavy metal support, he felt like a god.

Now here we was, with his greatest foe having literally just been under his boot.  His left hand was wrapped around MacGyver’s right wrist, pinning it down, his knee pressed against the half-conscious agent’s chest to keep him in place.  In his hands he held a tool that, as he had said moments ago, would be the most poetic end to MacGyver he could have concocted – finally silenced by one of his own fancy little inventions.  For a moment, Murdoc was tempted to plow ahead, not to kill, but to play, to hurt , to watch the dazed fear in his muse’s eyes turn to pain and sheer terror… but he had more important things to do.  Maybe he would take this toy with him when he left, and save it to use on MacGyver another day.

He leaned in close, his knee pressing harder into MacGyver’s sternum, and the boy wonder grunted in pain, gasped for breath.  Murdoc leaned closer, his face inches from his prey’s, and watched MacGyver’s concussed eyes go wide at the close proximity.  Murdoc noted with satisfaction that he’d really done a number on his blue-eyed buddy this time – the pupils were unequal, one dilated and the other not.  Murdoc whispered in Mac’s ear, “Don’t worry, friend, I would never let a pig like Andrews kill you.  I’ve got your back.”  He pulled back and winked conspiratorially.  Then, in one fluid motion, he dropped the torch, drew his gun, and shot Eric Andrews one, two, three times, right in his smug, ugly face.  The general didn’t even have time to be surprised by the betrayal.  He was already dead.

From across the room, Murdoc could hear one of the girls – probably the loud, bossy girlfriend – yelling something, but he didn’t pay attention.  Instead, he gripped MacGyver by the front of his jacket, hauled him to his feet (sort of; MacGyver slumped in Murdoc’s arms, unable to stand on his own, but Murdoc had no problem with that at all), and stood there facing the drone.  He could feel MacGyver trembling in pain, and it nearly sickened him that he was going to cut this meeting short.  Still, once he took care of this pesky Codex visit, he could look forward to plenty more games with his adversarial soulmate in the future.

Glaring up at the camera, Murdoc gave Mac’s weak, beaten form a little shake.  “See this guy?” he demanded, not waiting for an answer.  In the second of dead space between his question and answer, he did notice that Desiree had stopped yelling.  No one at the Phoenix was speaking.  Everyone was waiting, he knew, with bated breath, to see how this would turn out.  “Angus MacGyver, here, is mine. ”  He felt MacGyver stir weakly in his arms, protesting Murdoc’s claim even when concussed and barely cognizant.  “Hush, now, Angus,” Murdoc hissed.  “I’m trying to save your life.”

To Codex, he continued, “I love a good murder as much as the next guy.  Hell, more than the next guy.  Way more than him, actually.  So much more that I’ll kill the next guy just to scratch that itch.”  He grinned his most feral grin.  “But MacGyver is not on the market, you hear me?  The only one who is allowed to murder him is me .  Your Andrews was pathetic, a great brute who pretended at being a scholar because it made him feel important.  I meant what I said earlier, fellas – and ladies – this guy is so smart.  Way too smart for the likes of you.  Too smart for Andrews.”

He bared his teeth, shaking MacGyver once more to emphasize his point.  “Angus is my muse.  He’s my dance partner in this crazy murder-tango we’ve been doing for the past few years.  You thought I was being dramatic when I started reminiscing about the good old days earlier?”  He paused, thought, then amended, “Okay, so I was being dramatic, but I meant. Every. Word.  And it all boils down to this: The only one who’s going to end his life is me .”

A voice from the speakers, a female’s, cold and dead, offered, “Then kill him now.  Perhaps we can find a place in Codex for one as ruthless as you.”

Murdoc laughed out loud, throwing his head back.  His body trembled with giggles, and he heard MacGyver emit a grunt of pain at the motion.  “Whoops, sorry, buddy,” he apologized giddily, then shook him a bit more, this time for fun.  MacGyver stayed steadfastly quiet this time – bor -ing!

Murdoc sobered in an instant, letting every ounce of hatred, death, and chaos flood his gaze as his lips set into a thin line and he tightened his grip on MacGyver, who pushed feebly against his arms.  “You really think I want to be a part of your girl scout troop?  Please.  Codex before Angus MacGyver happened to it, maybe.  But now?  You all are ridiculous, dethroned kings who scrabble hungrily for any crumb left to you in your moldering ruins.  You aren’t powerful.  You aren’t smart.  That Leland was the only good thing you had going for you, and now he’s gone.”  He all but purred his next words: “And with what, a shot to the chest?  Precisely aimed, almost like a hit man had taken him out?  Hmmm….”

“ You are claiming responsibility for Leland’s death?”

Murdoc shrugged.  He finally, reluctantly released his grip on MacGyver, and the blonde tumbled to the floor.  Murdoc watched from the corner of his eye as he immediately began to drag himself slowly, agonizingly, away from Murdoc and toward his gal pals.  Murdoc rolled his eyes and clamped his boot down on MacGyver’s bruised back once more, effectively pinning him in place.  Too easy.  He peered into the camera again, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and hissed, “Believe what you want about Leland’s death.  But do you really want to mess with the bastard who killed this great paragon of new wave terrorism?  Not saying it was me, but damn.  Whoever this guy is must be one tough cookie.  And I would advise you, friends ,” – never had that word held so much derision – “to not play with his toys.”  He ground his heel into MacGyver’s back a little deeper.  “The TL;DR?  MacGyver is off-limits.  If you kill him, I kill you, ten times more slowly and painfully than I plan to kill him.  Got it?”

Without giving the council a chance to respond, he raised his gun and shot the drone out of the air.  He tossed the gun aside, sighed, and stepped off of a weakly moving MacGyver.  He grabbed the genius under the armpits and dragged him to the opposite side of the room from the girls.  Producing another zip tie, Murdoc secured MacGyver to the nearest piece of equipment and stood back to observe his handiwork.  Paying no mind to the sorry state he was in, Angus was already stubbornly pulling himself up to a sitting position, bloody face set in pain and determination.  “You,” he panted, lifting his eyes up to meet Murdoc’s, “are insane.”

Murdoc laughed.  “I thought we’d already established that long ago, dear.”

“Don’t call me,” MacGyver wheezed, “dear.  Despite your… delusions, I do not … belong to you.  Or to anybody.”

“Expect maybe Miss Davis?” Murdoc mocked.  “And please , Angus.  Can’t you see that I was just putting on a show for the ‘evil Zoom meeting’?”  He hadn’t been, and he could tell that MacGyver was seeing straight through his lie.  “Look,” Murdoc said, “I hate it when we fight.  How about we both take some time and pick this back up when we’ve had a little time to heal and reflect?”

Through gritted teeth, MacGyver growled, “How about you go away and never come back?”

“Tsk, tsk, Angus .  That isn’t any way to treat your rescuer.  But you are concussed, so I’ll let it slide.  Actually, I need to motor.  Now that the situation’s neutralized, the authorities will be all over this place.  I really don’t fancy going back to that blacksite, so I’ll leave you here to wait for your buddies.”  He bent down, patted MacGyver on the face, grinned when his adversary jerked his head away from the touch.  “‘Til next time, Mac .”  He made a face.  “Actually, scratch that.  My calling you Mac is almost as unsettling as Taylor calling Miss Davis Riles .”  He heard an indigent noise from over the comm – he’d almost forgotten Phoenix was listening in, they’d been so quiet.  He chuckled, relishing how fun Russ Taylor was to annoy.  “Anway, I’ll see you soon, Angus.”

Murdoc removed the comm and crushed it under his boot, then backed away and sauntered from the room, whistling his slow, eerie funeral dirge, “Home on the Range.”

He knew that even while injured and concussed, MacGyver would be out of the zipties and releasing his friends before the polícia arrived.  He’d then be whisked away to a hospital, and all of Phoenix would have to deal with the fallout of the secrets that had been revealed.  He wondered if MacGyver would choose Desiree or Riley.  In the end, though, he knew that it wouldn’t matter who MacGyver chose.  He could deny it all he wanted, but in the end, there would be Murdoc.

There would always be Murdoc.

[samwrights]

Wedding Day [hc]

I haven’t given Oikawa a happy ending yet and, considering he was my first favorite on this show, I feel he deserves it. Too bad Makki replaced him in my heart.

Oikawa;

It shook everyone to the core when they received save the dates—even more so when the wedding party received their special packages asking them to be included.

Groomsmen are, of course, Mattsun, Makki, and oddly enough, I picture little Tobio being in it as well. Iwaizumi is, ofc, best man.

Guest list is anywhere from 200-400 people. He wants everyone to see him marrying the love of his life and he’s not even remotely shy about it.

Two words: beach wedding.

Colors are more on the pastel side—I see him working it with blush and soft Tiffany blues.

For flowers, I see lilies being used.

I don’t see Oikawa crying when you come down the aisle; he’s ready. He’s ready for your life together and he’s downright excited. He’s grinning like an idiot.

A few vows that he makes sure to include: he keeps a designated day off from his professional life and, as per your request, that day can either be dedicated to you, his friends, or whatever he sees fit. Just no volleyball.

He listens to your guidance, rather than facing everything bullheaded as he did in the past. (Iwaizumi phrases this as handing the torch off to you, so that he doesn’t have to keep his ass in check anymore)

He promises not to steal the blankets in his sleep. A few chuckles came from that vow, wondering why he felt the need to include it. You laugh too. He may be a light sleeper and he may not get enough hours of it, but when he’s out, he burritos himself. He likes to be warm.

He doesn’t hit the open bar too hard on his wedding day. Rather, he’s focused on watching the way you radiate in the setting sun of the beach, wanting to burn the image into his memory forever.

“You’re married,” his best man says, half in shock, half in relief.

“I know, right?”

“Can’t believe you found someone stupid enough to marry you.”

“Honestly, same here, Iwa.”

Bokuto;

Bokuto can hardly contain himself on the day—hell he doesn’t even know what’s going on. He wasn’t involved with any of the planning, he was too preoccupied thinking about the event itself to help.

Groomsmen: Kuroo, Tsukki, and Hinata with Akaashi being best man.

Colors are more on the electric side; I’m seeing peridot green with black and white.

Despite how lively Bokuto is, he’s more down for a smaller wedding. Only close friends and family that know both of you—he doesn’t wanna share this moment with anyone who isn’t already present in your guys’ collective life.

Your bouquet is comprised of sunflowers, the only contribution that Bokuto made during the planning process, “you should have sunflowers, because it’s kinda like you holding the sun in your hands and you’re my sunshine.”

It made more sense in his head, but it’s endearing nonetheless.

Bokuto can’t stop crying when you come down the aisle, to the point where Akaashi feels secondhand embarrassment.

His vows are silly and lighthearted, much like your relationship. “I promise to kill all the spiders” is his number one.

“I promise not to shut you out when I get too hard on myself” was the most important one to you though.

Let’s be real, you and Bokuto get wrecked at your own wedding—there’s no way you’re marrying this clown without matching his energy.

Akaashi isn’t sure if he should be scared or impressed that the now Missus is slamming down tequila shots with Kuroo and her new husband.

He’s a bad dancer, but the longer the night goes on, the less the two of you care.

At some point, as the party dwindles down, you’re just casually sitting in his lap. His ties gone and the first two buttons of his shirt are now missing, allowing him some reprieve to the heat.

“This is our life now.” You tell him quietly, now mostly sober. Your friends are just hanging out and talking, happy to see each other for such a joyous occasion.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, baby.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 4

Poppa Roy is a' comin'! And don't worry- daddy bear will be plenty angry!

"Wakey wakey, Fullmetal prodigy."

Ed peeled his eyes open from where he laid on the dirt floor. Colonel Banks stood before him, grinning like the cheshire cat.

"You've been asleep for far too long. You have that information- I know you do. I'm only going to ask this once- where is it?"

Ed was silent.

All that earned him was a kick to the ribs. And another. And another. All Ed managed was a pained groan as he tried to curl into himself, trying to protect his abdomen from the savage blows.

"You're such a runt. I think I'm finally starting to get through to you, kid." Banks beamed as Ed struggled to catch his breath.

"I like your spirit, Fullmetal. And I know you have that information somewhere- so I'm going to ask for it one more time before I start to take your body apart and look for it."

Ed looked up, suddenly feeling wide awake.

Colonel Banks laughed. "I know people are mules, Ed. I might be a strict disciplinarian, but I'm not a pervert. I don't want to violate you if I don't have to. Tell me where the information is, and I won't have to bother with checking you... all of you- for information."

Ed swallowed. Was... was he threatening to rape him? Or just... invade him? He was too tired to think. But he needed to lie. And fast.

"T-there is no physical information." he managed hoarsely. "I-it's too important to be kept as physical documents. I memorized it and burned it in the woods."

He couldn't let the man start to search him- violate his body or person otherwise. He wasn't sure how much Banks knew about automail, but if he were to start taking it apart, he'd have to practically dismantle Ed's automail arm to find the compartment, which was behind two panels and deep within his automail. Still, he didn't want to man to bother to look.

"You're a bad liar, Edward. I know your orders. You have a copy of the information."

Ed frowned. His head was so foggy, it took too long to think... but in his gut, he felt the man was lying. The only one who knew his orders was him and Mustang, and the superior who gave the orders... So Banks was bluffing.

"You're the liar." he managed hoarsely. "You don't know what my orders are. If you kill me, the information dies with me- I memorized it." best to double down.

Banks nodded, seeming to take this into consideration.

"So- if I were to give you paper and a pen, you'd transcribe the information from memory?"

"I could. But I wouldn't. Not for you."

"And we're back to the same problem, Eddy."

The toe of Bank's boot made contact with Ed's eye. Ed saw white and was unable to hear a thing for a moment.

When his hearing faded back in, Banks was rambling something about obedience, and he'd rolled Edward onto his stomach and was tugging at the boy's shirt, which was still slightly damp from his ice water treatment earlier, before Ed felt a blade biting into his flesh.

"What the hell are you doing you jerk!?" Ed started to struggle

The knife cut deeper, and Ed fell still, gasping in pain. The blade trailed another two inches down his back before it was withdrawn. But all too soon, he was feeling the bite again as another slice was made down his back, this one four inches long, and another, this one six inches long...

"Oh Fullmetal, don't pass out on me now..."

Ed groaned.

Instead of going slow, the next cut- on the bicep of his flesh arm- was lightening fast. One moment he was catching his breath, and the next his arm was on fire, flesh suddenly split open and blood leaking out...

He grabbed for the wound with his automail arm, pressing the metal fingers to the cut- which was deep enough it might need stitches- and hissed in pain.

"Think about what you want to do, Edward. Because the next time I come down here, I'm gonna start cutting off fingers."

And he was left alone in the cell again.

Ed grit his teeth and closed his eyes, which were stinging with unshed tears. Maybe Banks was right. Maybe no one was coming for him.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

At noon, Roy Mustang got off the train at the city of Goldenfield. Part of him was annoyed to have to come all this way- to a backwater mining town in the middle of nowhere- but the majority of him was angry. Angry at Fullmetal, for not reporting in, and angry at whatever was keeping him.

Angry at the higher ups, for giving such a sensitive mission to a child.

And worried that whatever it was Ed had gotten himself into- it'd been too much, too hard- and that Roy might've been too late.

He started for Fort Goldenfield. That was the first place he knew to go. They'd said Ed returned yesterday, but then said he hadn't this morning, and every moment counted.

He stormed into the building, ignoring the wide-eyed look the secretary- Lieutenant Margaret Shaw, he assumed- who looked up from her desk at his entrance.

"I need to speak to Colonel Banks immediately."

The secretary was on her feet instantly. "Do you have an appointment, Sir?"

"No, I don't have a damn appointment. Do you know who I am?" Roy stepped forward. He might've been being unnecessarily harsh- but at the moment, he was too incensed to care.

"I'm afraid I don't know you, Sir." the lieutenant, ever respectful, conceded.

"I am Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist."

Her eyes widened.

"I've come here looking for my alchemist- Major Edward Elric. Yesterday morning, you told me he checked in here for the rendezvous, with highly sensitive information. This morning, Colonel Banks said he never reported in. Someone is full of shit here and a state alchemist is missing. I want you to get your commanding officer out here in two minutes or I will burn this entire damn building to the ground, stone or not. Are we clear Lieutenant?"

"Crystal, Sir." Still, Margaret hesitated before moving.

"What are you waiting for?" Roy asked, annoyed.

Margaret swallowed. "I... I can show you where he is..."

Roy's expression instantly changed. "You've seen him?"

Margaret nodded. "Just.. please... make sure Colonel Banks doesn't know I was the one who did. That boy needs a doctor..."

She led Roy quickly down the hall, looking around anxiously as she did so. She opened a door leading to a stone stairwell, towards some sort of basement. "He's down there."

Roy frowned. "Is this a trap?"

"No. I... I heard him down there last night... I never wanted this to happen, believe me. I have children myself. I couldn't stand it- I tried to help him... but Colonel Banks needs that intel. He said it was of the utmost importance."

Roy wanted to ask more questions- but there was a scuffling sound, a muffled noise from downstairs, and Roy forgot about Margaret entirely, heading down into the darkness of the basement apprehensively.

All the cells were empty- until he got to the last cell. Through the dim metal bars, a small form was huddled on the floor.

Roy's heart jumped to his throat. He was already wearing his gloves, and he snapped- lighting the torches on the wall of the basement. The light did little to ease his fears.

Fullmetal laid on the floor, huddled into a ball- he was so small.

"Fullmetal...?" he didn't recognize his own voice, it was so soft.

Slowly, the figure raised it's head. Messy, dirty blond hair fell over the boy's face, and golden eyes focused in on him slowly.

"Colonel Mustang?" Ed's voice was painfully hoarse. "Is that really you?"

Roy stepped forward, grabbing the bars and crouching down so he was more at eye level with the boy. "Yes, it's me, Edward. Are you alright?"

It was a stupid question. The back of Ed's white shirt was bloody, he sported a black eye and a split lip, and he'd made no move to stand.

"I... I want to go home..." Ed's voice shook slightly.

"I've come to take you home, Ed. But I need to know- who did this to you?"

"Colonel Banks. He... he's crazy. He wanted the information I got. He wanted to take it and take all the credit for it. I wouldn't give it to him. He... he tried to make me talk. But it's okay. I didn't tell him anything, I swear..."

"I believe you, Fullmetal. It's okay. You've done well. I'll be back in a moment- I need to get the keys to this cell and then we'll leave here immediately."

"Okay. I'll wait here." it would've been comical, as Ed laid his head back down in his little heap and made no move to get up. Roy couldn't help but wonder how badly injured the boy was.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, fist clenching and unclenching at the thought of confronting the bastard who'd done this to the Fullmetal Alchemist- to his Alchemist. He never took kindly to someone messing with his subordinates, but somehow, this injury was more flagrant, more egregious, because it hadn't been just anyone they'd attacked- it'd been Ed, Roy's youngest charge, the prodigy he'd been responsible for for these past few months.

Once he'd reached the top of the stairs, a man burst into the room.

"You!" Brown eyes blazing, the man pointed at Mustang angrily. "You break into my military office, violate the chain of command and force my Lieutenant to take you into a classified operation of national security..."

"Are you Colonel Banks?" Roy growled at the shouting man.

"You bet your ass I am! Who the hell are you!?"

Roy punched that bastard in the jaw so hard he was pretty sure he broke one of his fingers.

The man staggered back, surprised, as he pressed his fingers to his mouth and they came back bloody.

He charged Roy, swinging- Roy ducked the blow, pushing the man against the wall and kneeing him in the midsection, delivering another punch to the face.

Colonel Banks landed a lucky shot on Roy's jaw that sent him stumbling back, then shoved Mustang away. Mustang stumbled back several steps, and Colonel Banks drew his pistol and pointed it at Roy.

Roy still had his gloves on. It took one small snap of his fingers for the gun to be engulfed in a small burst of flame- even though the gun went off from the flame, the barrel was instantaneously melted shut, and the barrel exploded.

Colonel Banks screamed, dropping the destroyed weapon and clutching his injured hand, staring at Roy in shock and horror.

"What the fuck did you just do!? Who are you?"

Roy hadn't had someone fear him like that in a long time. And yet somehow, he enjoyed hearing the terror in the man's voice as he looked at him. He wondered if Ed had looked at the man like that when he'd been beaten.

"Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. You just tortured Edward Elric, a state alchemist; a crime you will pay for in court."

"That's bullshit! I outrank the kid, he disobeyed my direct order to hand over the intel! It was a matter of national security!"

"You'd best pray the court martial sees it that way. I don't take very kindly to people hurting my subordinates." Roy said gruffly, narrowing his eyes. "Give me the keys to the cell, now, or I burn you alive and take them anyways."

Banks frowned, fumbling with his one good hand to free a set of keys from his belt. He tossed it to Mustang.

"You trained the brat pretty damn well. I didn't think you'd care enough to come for him. But you'd have been so proud of him- I've broken men three times his age in half the time. It took forever to even make the brat scream. But he'd just repeat his name and rank over and over again. Such a well-trained little dog. 'I report to Roy Mustang, General Gruman, and the Furher himself.'. That's all the runt would say. Wish I could've had him under my thumb. Brat's stupidly loyal."

Roy frowned. All of this pain could've been avoided if Ed had just given his report to Colonel Banks instead of him. Ed ahd said the man wanted information. And Roy had a sinking feeling that Ed- loyal to a fault had taken the brunt of his injuries on Mustang's behalf.

Either way, Roy didn't have the time to question it. He looked at the keys in his hand and headed for the stairs. "If you're still in this room when I come back with Ed, I'll burn you alive." he said over his shoulder.

He heard hurried footsteps as Colonel Banks, coward that he was, retreated.

Roy exhaled through his nose, heading downstairs, keys in hand.

As Roy strode back to the makeshift prison of sorts, he was surprised to find Ed on his feet, hanging onto the bars.

"You can walk?"

"Yeah." Ed grunted.

Roy unlocked the door and Ed stepped out- he was moving rather gingerly, but he was walking under his own power. That was something.

They left the Fort, stepping into the sunlight. It was in the afternoon, and Roy headed towards the town inn, Ed falling into step beside him.

"This isn't the train station." Ed groused, looking over at Roy as they came to the front door of the inn.

"Perceptive, aren't we." Roy teased.

Ed frowned. "You said we were going home."

"We are. First train in the morning. I have some calls to make tonight." Honestly, Roy didn't think Ed would be comfortable sitting on a train for four hours back to Central City tonight anyways. The boy looked as though he could use a rest. And he wanted to ascertain how serious the boy's injuries were before he decided his next move.

I’d super appreciate it if you guys would drop by my ko-fi. You don’t even have to donate- just leaving me a comment meants a lot. What was your favorite part?

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[anonniemousefics]

Dying Tomorrow

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 4,927

***Rated NSFW (aged-up characters)***  -- It’s real smutty, guys.

Synopsis: It's been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court, and Inej rarely thought of it anymore. And she tried to not think of the boy who'd pulled it off. But Fjerda did not forget. And now Kaz and Inej are reunited after years apart: awaiting their fate on the gallows in Djerholm. What final words of truth do they have to share with each other?

Rough hands threw Inej into the dark, and she caught herself on her knees, hands against cold, rough stone. The heavy iron door shut behind her with a resounding clang, the hefty lock lurching into place. And, for the first time in weeks, she was alone with her mind. Her heavy breathing echoed off the dungeon’s stone walls.

It had been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court. An entire decade. In the grand scheme of all of her capers, the Ice Court still ranked in the top five, but had certainly been bumped out of the top slot years ago. She rarely thought about it anymore. And rarely thought about the boy who’d somehow pulled it all off.

But Fjerda had not forgotten. And now Fjerda had come to collect.

Inej pushed herself up to her feet, trying to take stock of herself in the dim light. She felt naked without her knives. Her black hair, which she’d chopped to her shoulders years ago, hung in dirty strings, mangled and knotted from the weeks she’d spent in a holding cell in Djerholm. She was sure her grey prison clothes were starting to smell.

She hadn’t thought of the boy who’d broken into the Ice Court in years, but now, more than ever, she wished she could get her hands on him.

“Inej.” Like something from a dream, that old, familiar grating voice, like stone against stone, called from the dungeon’s dark shadows, and Inej thought for a moment she might have lost her mind. She squinted into the darkness.

Son of a bitch. Kaz Brekker himself.

He limped into the thin line of flickering torch light that seeped in from the hall. How many years had it been? His hair was longer, his angles sharper, the taper of his shoulders to his waist clearly that of a man’s and no longer a boy’s. He was in prison clothes, too, old and new bruises blooming across his face and the scruff on his jaw. He had a new scar across his lip she’d never seen before.

“You.” Of all the faces she thought she might see inside a Fjerdan prison, this was the last she expected. She couldn’t believe the Fjerdans would put them together.

But then, she supposed it mattered very little to them where prisoners awaited their death sentence.

“Hello, Wraith,” Kaz rasped.

Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribcage. Her cheeks felt hot and buzzing. Kaz Brekker. Kaz Brekker.

Kaz fucking Brekker.

“You.” When she found her voice again, the rage came out in a growl. She could barely see straight. She would kill him. She would kill him right here. She crossed the cold stone floor in three quick steps and threw all of her weight into slamming an arm across his chest, throwing him up against the dungeon’s cold wall.

“You son of a bitch.” She bared her teeth and seized fistfuls of his scratchy prison shirt. “You implicated me. You sold me out.”

“You know I did no such thing.” Kaz kept his hands, his bare hands, out to the side, his dark eyes as imperceptible, as cold and unfeeling as ever. He wasn’t fighting her, and how she hated him for it.

“They blew up The Wraith,” she snarled in his face. She was out of tears to cry. All that was left was blinding, white hot rage. “You’ve cost me everything. You better start begging me for your life, or you’re not going to live to hang tomorrow.”

“I didn’t give them anything.” In the dark, Kaz’s eyes grew wider. He believed her. He knew she could strangle him with her bare hands.

“Then how come you’re the only one here?” Inej wasn’t loosening her grip, not for a moment. She should have never trusted Dirtyhands to run a clean job. “Who else could have tipped them off?”

“If I was going to sell you out, don’t you think I’d do a better job bargaining than this?” Kaz was beginning to raise his rasping voice. “Do you think I’d still be waiting to die tomorrow? Don’t you think I know enough to have prevented this?” And he held up his left hand to the light. There, at the end, were two bloody, bandaged stumps where his pinky and ring finger had been.

Inej faltered. She started to loosen her grip.

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” She was still seething.

“I don’t know,” Kaz said. “And believe me, I’d love to know. I’ll plaster Ketterdam with his innards when I find out.”

Fine. The truth mattered little anymore anyway. She released him with one last angry shove and stormed to the other side of the dungeon.

For a long time, she thought the silence was preferable. She didn’t want to even look at him. She was furious with him, but, even more frightening, memories long buried had bubbled to the surface while she’d had him in her hands. She’d spent many years letting go of what she’d wanted from him, what he could not give. She’d built a life for herself, with other lovers who had come and gone. All of it now at the bottom of the sea. And now the cruelest irony of it all: now she would spend her final hours with the only thing she’d wanted and never could quite claim for herself.

The Saints must really hate her.

But eventually the great, yawning silence of the dungeon became too much. The bleak unknown of what was to come struck her deep down in her gut. She needed distraction. Kaz had been good for that, at least.

“How’d they get you anyway?” she said, finally. This would at least be a good story.

“There’s not much to tell,” Kaz said, to her dismay. “The Fjerdans struck an extradition treaty with Kerch. And the Kerch have wanted to get rid of me for a long time.” She could see the glint of his wicked smile even in the dark. He would be proud of being hated by an entire country, the bastard.

“So, what – they just extradited you?” She raised an eyebrow. Seemed like an anticlimactic end for the Bastard of the Barrel.

“Hauled me out of my office, put me on the next boat to Fjerda,” Kaz summarized, with a cavalier shrug. Somehow, she doubted he really felt so unruffled about it. But she’d stopped trying to know the truth of Kaz Brekker long ago. Some vaults were best left locked.

“The Fjerdans blew up The Wraith?” Kaz asked. Inej stiffened.

“We’re not talking about that,” she said, flatly.

“I’m glad the old girl was still in sailing shape to the last,” Kaz commented, and then, a little more pointed: “I’d often wondered what happened to her since you stopped writing.”

Inej narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really? We’re doing this? Right here?” Her lip curled back in a sneer.

“Is the venue not good enough for you?” Kaz rasped back. “Would you like me to call the waiter over -- see if he can find us better seating?”

“You are such an ass.”

“You appreciated that about me once.”

“I have never.” Inej leaned forward, hoping he’d catch the barbs in her voice. “Once I thought there might have been something underneath all of your assholery.”

“And?”

“I got tired of digging for treasure and only returning with pennies.”

And she leaned back against the dungeon wall again. She glared at the door, willing it to open again and take her away from this ghost of her past. But of course it wouldn’t. Not until the gallows were ready.

“Interesting.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes when Kaz’s voice echoed again.

“What?” she barked, irritated.

“I lived in fear so long of being hated by you,” he said. “I would have moved heaven and earth to avoid it. And yet I find I like it better than being ignored.”

“Good to know.” She would keep quiet then. She wouldn’t even look at him. She didn’t want to look at him anyway, how the prison clothes clung to the muscles of chest or how his coffee-black gaze could still seem to pierce right through her. Looking was doing her no good at all.

“Was your crew on The Wraith when she met her end?” But Kaz wasn’t going to be ignored, apparently. “Or family? Friends?” He paused. “Or a lover?”

Subtle.

“I think most made it to the row boats,” she said, and then corrected herself for the sake of her heart. “I think all of them made it to the row boats.” She’d seen them dotting the waves just before the Fjerdan ship took aim.

“Do you think your lover survived?” Kaz asked. She glanced his direction, against her better judgment, to see he was aimlessly picking at dirt under his nails, like he barely cared at all.

“Yes,” she lied. Let him think there was a lover. “I think he did.”

“Should I let him do the honors of rescuing you?” Kaz lifted his eyebrows, still preoccupied with the dirt on his fingers. “Or are you not willing to risk his failure?”

Inej’s heart skipped.

“Are you saying you have a plan to get out of here?” She was feeling the tiniest shred of hope for the first time in weeks. If anyone could do it, it was Kaz Brekker. He’d done it once before.

“Maybe.” He sounded noncommittal. “We’ll see.”

Inej grit her teeth. She couldn’t help shooting to her feet, pacing in her furious energy.

“This,” she seethed. “This right here. This is why I stopped writing.”

“Go on,” Kaz frowned. In the torchlight, she could see the muscle in his jaw tick. Good. Maybe there was still emotion in there after all.

“You love to withhold, don’t you?” she growled at him. “Withholding information, withholding money, withholding friendship, withholding love. Sometimes I think you love withholding more than you love kruge.”

“So, you are still thinking about me sometimes,” and a smile began to quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“Stop it,” Inej spat. “I will smack that stupid look right off your face.”

“You do that.” And Inej startled when Kaz pushed off from his side of the dungeon and took three steps towards her. Her breath caught. “Go on,” he was saying, growing closer. “Hit me. You hate me; I know you want to. Stop being so withholding, and hit me.”

It was like he was sucking the wind out of her sails. Every nerve in her body felt as if it was standing on end when he drew near, so near she could feel the warmth of him radiating towards her. She could feel his breath, see his pulse in the sinew of his neck, the way the torchlight cast shadows across the muscle beneath his collarbone. She hated him. She hated him so much. She hated that after all these years and all these other lovers she could still feel this way, still be drawn into his orbit as if no time had passed at all.

He bent his head, and she held her breath. Why wasn’t she moving? Why couldn’t she respond? His head was tilting, and she was staring into the deep wells of his eyes, rimmed in thick lashes. How could someone so cruel have such beautiful eyes?

Then he stopped, his nose inches from her cheek.

“I got tired of your self-righteousness,” he whispered there, and her face burned like never before. He straightened himself once again with that shit-eating smirk, like he’d gotten all the information he needed. Well, so had she.

So she did it.

She smacked him across his bruised jaw, hard enough that his face turned with the blow.

What did it matter? They were dying tomorrow anyway.

But he looked back at her with eyes that burned with something she couldn’t decipher, and she couldn’t think straight. She bit back the apology that was already threatening her lips.

“Better,” he rasped, looking satisfied. He really did prefer not to be ignored.

He turned to limp back to the other side of the dungeon. Inej closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the image of him so close to her.

“They took your gloves,” she heard herself say. She wouldn’t apologize, but maybe she wouldn’t ignore him.

“I don’t wear gloves anymore,” Kaz replied, leaning against the stone wall again with a heavy sigh.

This was perhaps the most surprising news all day.

“You don’t?” she said. “How long?”

“Three years, give or take,” Kaz replied. Inej was trying to mentally calculate how long since her last letter when he went on. “Turns out being a twenty four year old virgin is not conducive to maintaining Barrel boss status. Barrel thugs are not particularly open-minded about leadership qualities. I got help. It was that or lose the Dregs.”

“Oh.” Inej had no idea what to say to that. She didn’t particularly like thinking about the boy who’d trembled when he softly kissed her neck having a string of conquests. But then, that wasn’t fair, was it? She hadn’t remained chaste, either.

“Good for you,” she found herself replying. Did she mean it? She supposed she did. This was awkward.

To her surprise, Kaz let out a strange, rasping chuckle.

“What?” She frowned.

“I’d once imagined this conversation with you happening a thousand different ways, but never this one,” he said, dryly. “This particular outcome evaded me.”

“Quite a feat,” Inej remarked. “One point to Fjerda.”

“We’ll see,” Kaz shrugged again, and the only reason she didn’t slap him was because she already had.

“You never would tell me your mind,” she said. “As if, after all we went through, you still couldn’t trust me. And I had tried so hard for so long for your trust, Kaz. That was a brutal realization, the day I understood that about you.”

“It was never a matter of trust.” Kaz glared at her from across the room. “At any given moment, I am thinking of no less than twelve things. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pick through all of that and determine and communicate the pertinent information to the situation and avoid revealing alarming, possibly irrelevant information that will only upset everyone if I did explain everything happening in my mind? If everyone would just trust me--”

“Oh, so it’s just that you think I’m too stupid to be privy to your mind.” Inej rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s much better.”

“That is not what I said,” Kaz groaned. He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, exasperated.

“I don’t want to argue about this.” Inej waved her arms, wildly. “I do not want to spend my last night in the world arguing about this meaningless shit. Saints, you always did this. You could always drag me into the most absurd, infuriating situations--”

“Oh, please,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “You loved it.”

“I absolutely did not--”

“You love it even now.” Kaz gave a careless gesture. “You love it, and you hate that. I see the way you keep looking at me.”

Inej nearly reached for her knives before remembering they’d been taken by Fjerdans.

“I do not like who you’ve become,” she spat at him.

“You have no idea who I’ve become.” Kaz folded his arms over his chest, the crow and cup tattoo rippling over the muscles of his forearm. He smiled, crookedly. “You have no idea what I can do, what I’ve learned, who even I am anymore, and it’s driving you mad. You could be planning your escape right now, and instead you can’t stop arguing with me.”

“Maybe I am planning my escape,” she hissed. She would not – would not – think about what he could do, what he had learned. “Maybe you’re not the only one capable of thinking of more than one thing.”

Kaz narrowed his eyes at her, working his jaw. It took her but a moment to recognize it; it had been so long. He was scheming.

Oh, Saints, save her. She’d missed that look.

“All right, then,” he said at last. “In honor of our last night in the world: I will tell you one full and honest truth. Whatever you want to know.” She opened her mouth. “On one condition.” Of course there was a catch. “I require one truth from you first. What do you say?”

“It’s always a deal with you, isn’t it, Brekker?” She shook her head. “What you are describing is what most people call friendship.”

“But we’re not really friends anymore, are we?” Kaz cocked his head. “I don’t claim to know much about friendship, but I think friends see each other more than once every five years. At best, we’re distant relatives.”

“We are definitely not that.” Inej really hoped he didn’t see her that way.

“We’re whatever you need to tell your lover to make him feel comfortable.” Kaz brushed it away. She’d already forgotten she’d lied to him about a lover. That wasn’t good.

“Well?” Kaz was raising his dark eyebrows at her.

“The deal is the deal,” she said, with a relinquishing shrug.

“Wonderful.” Kaz stepped away from the dungeon wall, his arms still crossed, and leaned towards her. “Did you ever love me?”

“Oh, for Saint’s sake!” Inej threw up her hands. Of all the things he could have asked.

“I suppose you don’t care much to know about the escape plans, then,” Kaz shrugged.

“You withholding son of a bitch. What makes you think I’m going to answer that question?”

“Your avoidance is saying a lot as it is.”

Inej squared back her shoulders, breathing hard in her fury. At least, she thought it was fury. She glared at him, seeing all the traces of that cocksure street rat she couldn’t get enough of once. The one she’d wanted so badly to touch and hold and love. His sharp jawline, his wide shoulders, his soft dark hair. Damn him, damn him. Why couldn’t he have just let her love him then?

She drew in a shaky breath. They were dying tomorrow anyway.

“You were my first love,” she confessed. It hurt her more than she thought it would to say it. Her shoulders slumped a little. “And no matter who else has warmed my bed, you have always held that title in my heart. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

Kaz’s lips parted slightly, surprised. He stared at her, the rise and fall of his chest deepening.

“Then why did you?” he asked after a moment. But Inej swallowed hard and slowly shook her head.

“The deal was only one truth,” she said, softly. Her throat felt tight, and her chest hurt. She was not going to risk letting his cool indifference hurt her again.

Kaz looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He tightened his arms over himself, his biceps swelling. The very picture of what she’d felt from him all those years ago. Guarded. Closed off. Withholding. Beautiful and yet so far out of reach.

“Your question, then,” he said, stiffly.

She should have asked of the escape. She’d been preparing to ask of the escape. Why did he have this kind of power over her still?

“Why didn’t you let me help you?” Her voice was low, and he looked up in surprise. He’d expected her to ask of the escape, too. “The way you sought help three years ago--”

“Give or take,” Kaz interrupted, looking dazed.

“I wanted to help you with all of it,” Inej went on. “You never let me get anywhere near close enough. And I couldn’t – I couldn’t--” She swallowed the lump building in her throat. “I couldn’t waste my life trying to heal someone who didn’t want to be healed. Why didn’t you want to heal?”

“You had been through enough.” Kaz was blinking hard. “You’d spent far too many years overburdened with men’s needs. I wanted to be near you, and I hated myself for wanting to be near you, because you deserved to be free of me. Of everything like me.”

“You let me go, too.” Inej lifted her chin, slightly. She felt relieved to be rid of the burden of guilt, a guilt she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring.

“I thought you might come back.” Kaz’s gaze drifted to the floor. “I hoped you would. You never said you wouldn’t. But months turned into years. You were happier wherever you were, with whomever you’d found. And I tried everything I could think of to get you out of my system. I’ve deprived myself of nothing, of no one I’ve wanted since you. Make no mistake: I wanted to heal.”

“And did you?” Inej’s voice felt like a croak. “Get me out of your system?” She wished she could slow her racing heart.

“The deal was only one truth,” Kaz replied, grating and dark.

And for a long while, the only sound in the dungeon was the monotonous dripping of leaking water, collecting in a pool in the stone. They were each rooted to where they stood, hardly daring to breathe or move. It was as if the air itself around them might shatter if they did.

“Inej.” Kaz spoke first.

“Yes?” Surely, he could hear the way her heart was beating.

“I have lived longer than I thought I would,” Kaz began. She heard him swallow once. “I’ve seen many men die. I am not afraid of death. I have done many things that have warranted it. The only thing I have ever feared is not having enough – of anything, you name it. Please indulge me one last truth.”

“All right.”

“Do you really have a lover?”

Inej was starting to tremble. If she moved now, she could not be sure what she would do next. She wasn’t sure what telling him the truth would do, but she was sure it could not be good. Some vaults are best left locked, she reminded herself again and again. Some vaults are best left locked.

But the pull of his eyes. The desire in his breath. Every longing she’d locked away was pounding at the vault door, demanding release.

They were dying tomorrow anyway.

“No,” she said in a whisper. Oh, what have you done?

And the dam broke. The air shattered. Kaz crossed to her in two swift steps, and she knew she was a goner before he even pulled her into his arms. She was reaching for his jaw, for his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He made a gasping, growling sound deep in his chest when his lips slid over hers, and her whole body felt alight at the sound. Lips over teeth over tongues, she demanded what she’d too long been denied.

He was shoving her against the stone wall, cold at her back. He held himself up with his bandaged, damaged hand against the wall at the side of her head, and then began slipping his good hand under the hem of her scratchy prison top. She shivered when his bare hand skimmed her waist. She’d wanted this, oh how she’d wanted his hands, for years, and now she could feel every callus, every scar, every nail scraping, raking up her back.

“I hate you for taking so long,” she gasped when she pulled back. She buried her fingers into his hair as his teeth grazed up her neck. One of his hands was trailing down her back, scooping below her ass cheek.

“I hate you for not writing,” he rasped back, and bit her ear. She gasped and took his mouth again, letting him run his tongue along hers. She raked her hands over his shoulders, down the etched muscles of his torso, before dipping her hands underneath. He let go of her only long enough to pull the shirt off over his head, his hair mussed and slipping in his dark eyes. She wrapped her fingers in the hem of her own shirt and ripped it off over her head.

“This is a terrible idea,” she panted. Kaz pressed against her fully, his chest against hers, his hips aligned with hers.

“This is the best idea,” he disagreed, with a shake of his head, and slid one hand up her rib cage, cupping her breast. The bandage of his left hand brushed her jaw; he held her face in one hand and kissed her hard, again and again. She tried to hold back a moan against his lips when he began to draw circles around her nipple with his thumb. And then he was pulling back and working unrelenting kisses down her throat, pulling at the small of her back to lift her body towards him as he bent his head toward her breasts.

Every thought of escape, of gallows, of nooses, of death left her entirely when he began kissing her body, as if every inch of her was exulting in this inevitability. She couldn’t imagine now any other outcome than this. From the moment she’d been thrown into his dungeon, this was always where they were headed.

His hands were slipping below her loose trousers when his mouth returned to hers. Her arms were over his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his head, digging into his hair. And then she was sliding them over the slopes of his back muscles, hooking her thumbs into the backs of his trousers. He gave a rueful chuckle against her mouth before he let her help him out of his pants. He tore hers off before pressing against her again – naked and warm in the cold, terrible dark.

And still it wasn’t enough to slake the years of pent up desire he’d now unleashed in her. She wasn’t sure anything could ever be enough. Both hands were trailing her ass now, even with the bandage, and, as she panted through kisses, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted her off the floor into his strong arms, his muscles enveloping her, burying one hand in her hair.

“Don’t stop now,” she huffed. “Then I might actually hate you.”

He gave a wicked laugh as he pushed them both against the wall, balancing her on his good leg. His hand left her hair and dipped between them. She was ready. Saints, she’d been ready for years.

She gasped when he guided his length into her, pressing her harder against stone. He gave a faltering moan, his head dropping to her shoulder, and she arched herself onto him. And he began to move within her, holding her ass with her ankles hooked behind his knees.

“I never got you out of my system,” he rasped, breathing hard against her ear. “It’s not possible. Gods, I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“I never wanted to let you go.” She dug her nails into his back, her head falling back against the wall. “It seemed like it was best for both of us.”

“You were probably right.” His gaze was hazy, his breathing labored with every thrust. “But I still hate it. Inej. Oh, Inej.” He breathed her name like a prayer, kissing her again, biting her lip. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling, desperate, moaning and arching. He was thrusting frantically, mercilessly, so that she clenched her thighs around him, taking him deeper still. When she did, he broke away from her lips with a gasp, his eyes closing, his lips parting, every muscle tensing. It was the face, Inej realized, she’d imagined with every other lover, a face that drove her to the brink of her own pleasure.

And when his release came, Kaz cried out, shuddering against her, and his grip slipped, their naked, slick bodies staggering against the stone wall. For a moment, they held each other close as they caught their breath, shaking in the dark – Inej with her hands on the back of his neck, Kaz with his hands fitted to the curve of her waist.

“Isn’t there a guard outside?” Inej was suddenly realizing, blinking slowly.

“Probably.” Kaz just shook his head, not caring. “He’s probably having the wank of his life right now.”

“Ugh, Saints,” Inej grimaced, desperately wanting to scrub the image from her mind.

“Not a guard,” came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Inej dove for her clothes. “But do make yourselves decent. I’m tired of plugging my ears out here, and we’ve got places to go.”

“Ah, Sturmhond.” Kaz was sliding his trousers back on. “You’re really cutting it close on the last-minute-rescue this time.”

“I don’t know, old friend,” Sturmhond replied. “Seems like you had just enough time.”

Inej smacked Kaz in the arm.

“You really couldn’t have just said, ‘Sturmhond’s coming to rescue us’?” she glared.

“I didn’t know for sure,” Kaz said, throwing his shirt back on. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Best to look death square in the face than go to the gallows expecting a rescue.”

“Wow,” Sturmhond sighed. “I’m really just brimming with delight at all this flattery and gratitude. You’re very welcome. It was no trouble at all.”

A key creaked and thudded in the ancient, heavy lock. The door swung open. Sturmhond waited with a sly, insinuating smirk before motioning for them to come along.

Kaz and Inej shared a coy smile and dashed down the hall. A world of possibility awaited.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Steve//i can see a better time, when all our dreams come true

hey! last part! i just want to say thank you to everyone who’s read, liked, reblogged and supported this series! you all mean the absolute world to me. i know this is gonna sound cringey or whatever, but this series is more than just that. i was originally supposed to write and post this last christmas. but something that i can’t really remember stopped me and i was so disappointed in myself. then this hell hole of a year happened and i had a major mental health crisis (something i am still recovering from) meaning i couldn’t do anything but watch the same three tv shows and scroll through instagram for about 3 months, as well as a bunch of other awful things. i thought it would be a miracle to just start writing requests again, but then when i was going through a notebook, i found this idea and remembered how much i loved it and how upset i was that i hadn’t done it. so i thought i’d try and do it, and after many, many days and nights of me stressing about the littlest things and driving my girlfriend absolutely insane by only talking about this (sorry, i love you!), i’d done it! and i am so proud of myself! i know its not the biggest achievement of the year, but it’s mine. so again thank you to not only everyone whose read this series, but also thank you to everyone who has read and supported everything i’ve done this year. i really do hope that next year is a better one for all of you! happy new year my loves! 

They say that time moves in different ways depending on the situation. 

For example, the day you spent hours driving to the beach with Steve and Robin felt like it was over in five minutes. But the time stuck under ground in a really crappy elevator with them felt more like a week. 

From the time it takes Steve to take his bandana and goggles off and to walk the three steps to you, it feels like days and seconds all at once. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him and the two of you let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for the past week. Finally you feel like you can breathe again, and finally the weight on Steve’s chest shifts a little. 

Your hair is matted, your clothes dirty and torn and there’s a cut on your cheek, blood slowly trickles down your cheek, staining your face and your t-shirt red. But you’re you, and you’re alive and you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” You’re the first to speak, your words stumbling over each other. A chuckle mixed with a sob passes your lips as you hug him again, you hold him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, it feels like his ribs are being crushed but he doesn’t care. He just presses a kiss against your forehead, and runs his fingers through your knotted hair. 

Hot tears land on the top of your head but you don’t feel them, you’re too busy crying into his shirt and the two of you stand like that for a few minute, thankful and very overwhelmed that the other one is alive and well. 

“I think I do.” He sobs and you let out a short laugh. “I love you so much Y/n. I am so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You cup his cheeks. “I was overreacting and I shouldn’t have stormed off. It’s fine.” You say and press a quick kiss to his lips, they’re salty because of the tears but neither of you care. “I love you Steve.” You finish and he breathes deeply, his shoulders sagging and the only thing that keeps him from falling is you. 

“I thought you were dead.” He cries. 

“Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” You try, nudging his shoulder but he doesn’t smile. 

“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought...I thought.” 

“I’m fine.” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “Look. I’m good.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He teases and you stare at him offended. 

“Rude. You do know that I almost died right?” 

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes and yours widen. 

“Excuse me? I’m sorry who came all the way into an alternate dimension just to save me? Oh right. You.” 

“I only did that because I had nothing better to do. You know after boxing day things got a bit boring.” He shrugs and you slap his shoulder. 

“Asshole.” You mumble making him laugh. “How did you find me?” 

“Do you really think I’d forget the place we first met?” He replies, sending you a look and you squint up at him, the light from his torch blinding you slightly. “Sorry.” He mumbles and quickly turns it off.

“I thought given the circumstances you would have at least tried.” You shrug, staring at the floor. 

“Nah. Surprisingly it was the best day of my life.” He confesses and it surprises not only you but himself. That’s something he never thought he’d say. 

He thought Halloween 1984 would be a day that always hurt to think about. And yeah, thinking about what Nancy said to him still stung, but then he remembers you. 

You, in a costume he didn’t quite get. Your expression full of irritation that only softened when you saw him crying. You who asked what was wrong and stayed with him until he decided he wanted to go home. You who the next day found him to make sure he was okay. 

“Will you marry me?” He asks and your eyes widen.

“What?” You splutter and he stares at you hopefully. 

“I love you more than I have loved anything ever. You’re my favourite person ever, you make every day brighter. On days where I think I can’t do anything, when I think my dad is right about all the the shit he’s said and that little nagging voice in my head is shouting, you’re always there to tell me I’m wrong. You’ve helped me when I’ve been broken up with, beaten up and drugged. You fought a Russians for me and beaten up creatures from another dimension without even knowing what it was. I’ve never felt safer or happier with you by my side. I know I’m an idiot, but still...will you marry me?” 

“Steve.” You gasp, tears roll down your cheeks mixing with the blood and goo. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.” You reply and he lets of a sigh of relief. “Although, you didn’t get on one knee, and I don’t see a ring.” You tease and he rolls his eyes. 

His hands cup your cheeks delicately, he ducks his head down and presses a gentle kiss against your chapped and sore lips. 

“Steve? Steve? Are you okay?” Robin’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie and you jump apart, suddenly remembering where you are. A loud crash comes from just outside and you and Steve freeze and stare at each other.

Thunder booms so loud it rings in your ears for a few seconds after and Steve feels the weight come back, only this time its shared with you too.

“I’ve got her.” He says slowly and eyes the bathroom suspiciously. “If you’re not already at the portal, go now. We’re on our way back...over.” He says and you hear a collection of relived sighs. 

“Yay! You said it!” Annie cheers and Steve rolls his eyes.

“What she means is we’re glad you’re both okay. Now get your ass back.” Robin adds and you and Steve don’t need to be told twice. Steve grabs the bat he dropped on the floor and reaches for your hand. He starts to pull you but is instantly stopped when he hears your cry in pain. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He’s in front of you instantly, looking you up and down for any injuries, and then his eyes land on your leg, and you watch him pale. 

“Stupid ugly thing got me.” You mumble and glance down at it, you cringe at the sight of the now brown blood, and inflamed scratches. Yeah, there is no way you’re going to be able to get that stain out.

“Can you walk.” He asks and looks around for anything to help. 

“I’ll be fine Steve. I just need to get used to it.” You reply. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” You nod. “Come on. I don’t want to be in Tina’s bathroom anymore than I already have been.” 

“Same.” He huffs and wraps his bandana around you. 

“What about you?” You ask while he puts the goggles on you. 

“I’ll be fine.” He waves you off. “It’s only a bit of dust.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Now come on.” He says quicker and wraps an arm around you. The two of you hobble towards the front door, tripping on a few vines and branches.

Steve helps you balance against the wall and the front door creaks as he pulls it open. 

“Okay.” He nods and looks back at you. “Nothing is waiting to kill us so I think we’ll be fine.” 

Famous last words.” You smirk and he rolls his eyes at you while helping you walk again. 

As soon as your outside, the door slams closed making the two of you jump. Wind rushes around the two of you and brown and black works its way into the cracks of the sky. Buildings tumble down around you, almost as if an invisible force is stomping on each of them. You and Steve share a look as the chaos seems to get closer and closer to you. 

“Shall we go then?” Steve asks, his eyes wide with fear and you quickly nod. 

“Yep.” You reply. “I hate parties anyway.” You say and a small smile twitches on your lips. Steve returns it and the two of you make your way down the steps and onto the street. 

Thankfully, Tina doesn’t live that far from you. In the past that was something you hated because it meant you couldn’t get out of parties, this time however, you’re very grateful for the closeness of your homes. 

In an ideal world, it means you’ll be able to get back to the right and semi-safe world in less than twenty minutes. However, if the past seven years have taught you and Steve anything, it’s that you don’t live in an ideal world. You live in the opposite in fact. 

Like you said, the habitants of The Upside Down, don’t care much for cleaning, and it’s only made worse now that the entire things seems to be collapsing around you. Either it’s doing it on purpose so none of you can escape, or all of you just have some really bad timing. 

“So this whole place is dying?” You ask and look around. It certainly looks like it’s dying. It has done since you woke up and its only gotten worse. You also thought it was strange that you hadn’t been eaten by now. 

“Yep.” He replies. “Apparently all those times we thought we’d won but hadn’t. Did actually do something. It just took a while for it to feel the affect.” 

“And I’m in here because?” 

“Annie said that whatever dragged you in, was probably looking for anything to eat.” He replies and you think about it for a few seconds. 

“So why didn’t it eat me?” 

“How the hell am I suppose to know.” He says. “Do I look like the scientist here?” 

“Furthest from actually.” 

“Exactly.” He smiles. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

“We get out as quickly as we can.” 

“The more detailed plan?” You roll your eyes. 

“Dustin and Lucas got a bunch of explosives and fireworks. We’ve dumped them in here and as soon as we get out, El and Will’s going to explode them!” He says proudly and you look at him impressed. 

“Wo-Watch out!”

You and Steve narrowly miss being hit by a falling tree, only to trip over some sort of decaying monster. 

“Gross.” You huff and look down at your hands, now covered in blood and guts. “Are you okay Steve?” You ask while trying to stand back up. 

“No.” He mumbles and you frown as you turn around to face him. He’s hunched over in the middle of the road, dry heaving and your eyebrows furrow as you watch him. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, however instead of answering you’re just met with a groan. “Steve? We haven’t got all day.” 

“It went in my mouth!” He exclaims and turns around, throwing his hands up in the air. “That things guts were in my mouth. I can taste blood. Oh god. I’m gonna die. Or turn into one of those. Y/n, if I turn into anything like that please just kill me. You have my permission to take a baseball bat to my head...just please, bury me somewhere nice.” He rambles making you snort a laugh. “It’s not funny Y/n.” 

“It kind of is.” You reply and he glares at you. 

“It’s not.” He mutters and slowly walks towards you. However he freezes when he notices your eyes widening. “What?” He asks. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” 

“Don’t move.” You whisper and he feels his blood run cold. 

“What?” He squeaks and watches you slowly limp and pick up the bat lying on the floor. 

“Oh god. It’s happening isn’t. I love you Y/n. Tell Robin it was me that broke her Walkman. I told her it was Dustin, but it was me.” He closes his eyes, expecting the worst. 

Something scratches at his legs and he breathes in, this is it. He’s going to die, so are you and everything is going to be for nothing. He wants to reach out for you, to hold you close and then at least you’ll be together, but he can’t he’s frozen. 

And then he hears a thud, a small whine and your heavy breathing. Slowly he opens one eye, expecting to see some sort of toothy monster staring back at him. But instead he’s met with the back of your head. He watches you drop the bat, the noise echoing into the darkness and slowly he looks down. 

He’s not entirely sure what tried to kill him, it’s unrecognizable now that’s been beaten into the ground, but it looks scary anyway. 

“It’s the same fucker that dragged me in here in the first place.” You look over your shoulder and wipe your forehead. 

“I love you so much.” He stares at you in awe. “That was hot.” 

“Shut up.” You huff but wink at him anyway. “Are you okay?” You ask and glance at his leg. 

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugs and looks at the small scratch. “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

“I’ll live.” You shrug. 

The two of you stumble around the corner and into the forest and you watch as your friends climb through the glowing doorway to the real world. 

“Guys!” Steve shouts making everyone freeze. The kids have already gone through, leaving just Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Annie and Joyce behind. Tears form in your eyes as you stare at your friends. 

“Hurry up!” Jonathan shouts. 

“I’m trying! It’s a bit difficult though with my leg hanging off!” You shout back and watch as Jonathan pushes Nancy through the goo before running towards you. 

“Jonathan!” Joyce shouts, her voice can barely be heard over the wind. It blows through your ears and makes you shiver. Trees move wildly around you and you watch as the sky starts to fall away. 

“Well that can’t be good.” You gulp and walk a bit quicker. Jonathan stands on the other side of you, holding your waist and the three of you stumble towards the portal. 

They let go of you and push you through, you land on the forest floor with a loud thud and small groan escapes your lips. 

“Y/n!” The group shout and everyone moves to help you stand. You’ve never been so happy to see everyone. Robin and Annie pull Jonathan, Steve and Joyce through. And as soon as Joyce is stood up, El and Will press the detonators. There’s a loud bang that makes you all jump back, and you watch as the portal vanishes, leaving the brown of the tree trunk behind. 

“Is everyone here?” Joyce asks and scans the group. 

“It’s a bit late if they’re not.” Robin replies. “But yes...I think we did it. We actually did it! Yes!!” She cheers and jumps up and down. Everyone shares a look before looking back at her and even Annie looks a little concerned. 

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” You pull the goggles and fabric off of your face, and tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Of course we did.” Dustin hugs you. 

“You didn’t think we’d leave you in there did you?” Nancy asks also wrapping you up into a tight hug. The res of the group follow and soon you’re in the middle of an eleven people hug...not that you’re complaining though. 

“Jesus Christ. How long were we in there?” Steve asks and looks at the now dark sky.

“Who the fuck cares. Let’s go home.” 

Fireworks crackle and explode above your head. The sky lights up with red and oranges, leading the way home for the 12 of you. 

The residents hope that the bright lights will keep the darkness at bay, but from now on, they won’t have to.

“Happy New Year love.” 

“Happy New Year Steve.” 

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 19.04.21 lb

here's what you "missed" (lbr tho, not watching tellywood is not called MISSING, it's called "FREEDOM") last week on this shitshow:

kabir pehla mauka dekh ke vatttt liya. #livefree my love.

kiara died the most inglorious death - forcefed a peanut butter milkshake.

riddhima as per usual, the moment someone drops dead in their vicinity, turned to vansh and was like:

ghar mein saaaaare 90s bachche start playing CID-CID. kaabil detectives watching this bs like......

besttttt part is that none of these dumbasses are ANYYYYYYYYYY closer to opening the damn black box than they were 2 weeks ago.

meanwhile someone keeps threatening riddhima ki they're gonna tell vansh the whole 6 hours secret. ho hum. sansaaaar ko khatam ho jaana hai lekin yeh manhoos raaz nahi khulna.

aslkdjaslkdjlsakjdlaskjd anu mom and her new-found spirituality and daily meditation is actually sending me.

mummyji being super helpful and telling riddhima ki dadi has the torch now. love how the whollllllle family is just playing passing the parcel with this thing, getting their grubby fingerprints all over it, as if it's NOT A VALUABLE PIECE OF EVIDENCE IN A MURDER.

dadi meanwhile is burning a hole in her phone screen staring at kiara's tattoo. bachchon se leke buddhon tak sabne isko ghoora hai, lekin majaal hai, inmein se ek ko bhi kuch samajh aaya ho. why can't y'all just accept that maybe it means nothing, it's just one of those dumb foreign language tattoos, that probably say "ek plate gobi manchurian" or some shit.

riddhima's here asking for the torch and dadi is just like BHAKKKKK NIKAL YAHAAN SE while having flashbacks to brandishing the mashaal like some crazyass charlotesville nazi.

another flower delivery for riddhima that vansh is receiving at the door, and sis loses it. runs like PT USHA and grabs the flowers and note outta his hand thinking it's another threat and tears it up.

vansh here like:

but also she cut her hand so ofc he's using mauka to suck on her finger. MAN IN THESE CORONA TIMES, Y'ALL REALLY KILLING ME WITH THIS GANDAAAAAA NON HYGENIC BEHAVIOURRRR.

lmao the bouquet was from vansh, as an apology (for what? no like, we've lost count of all the shit you do on an hourly basis, so which exact thing are you saying sorry for right now????)

also what adbhut new way of being pregnant is this that the immj2 ladies have cracked, ki inka itnaaaaaa se bhi pait nahi nikalta????

anyway, some blah blah cutesy romance bakchodi that no one has time for. i liked it better when y'all were constantly horny.

angre as usual here with some manhoos khabar that has vansh frowning and storming away.

police aayi hai. excuse you, we don't recognize any cops here but our one and only KABIR. HAIN KAHAN HUMAARA LADKA??? MISSING HO RAHI HAI YAAR?!?!!!? KYUN LAGA RAKHA HAI FALTU KA YEH SHOW WITHOUT THE BEST CHARACTER THAT EXISTS IN IT?

anyway police is like we heard there was a murder here, and vansh is like huh whaaa here no??? no dead ppl here, no sir. you may leave. police waale bhaiyya is like bhak chutiye, aise thodi hota hai, warrant laaye hain, hatt saamne se.

angre taking out a rolled up carpet, a trick outta the vihaan book. but it's too small to have anything rolled up in it, so.......

doesn't stop the police from making a big deal of searching it though, while vansh side mein se taane maarta hai. waise bhai kaaafi good mood mein hai aaj kal. looks like someone's been taking their meds these days.

riddhima just randomly falling down behind them. like..... ???????

this police is literally too dumb to function. THEY CAME WITH A WARRANT TO SEARCH THE WHOLE HOUSE, JUST LOOKED INSIDE THIS ONE ROLLED CARPET (THAT TOO AFTER GETTING DISTRACTED BY RIDDHIMA'S RANDOM GIRRNA) AND WERE LIKE OK DONE THERE'S NOTHING HERE BYE. LMAO WHAT THE HELL, MY CAT PLAYS HIDE AND SEEK WITH MORE FOCUS AND PURPOSE THAN THIS.

husband wife and anu mom giggling over how riansh ke do takke ka pyaar is enough to chutiya banaofy everyone. kya hi bakwaaas.

the slightest of movement and vansh is dizzy. lol is he severely anemic like me???? join the club, bitch. we have iron supplements.

oh boy, cut to a while later and bro don't look too good. he's still smiling at riddhima's banter and all, but.......... idk man, he looks like he's having a daura of some sort.

riddhima's amazing medical knowledge (or just plain common sense???) finally kicks in and she's like, u ok dude? imma call a doc. and he's like nooooooo i'm fiiiiiiiiiiiine. ok whatever. maro apne iss stupid secret container room office mein. bewakoof.

ISKE BEECH MEIN BHI ROMANCE. BHAAD MEIN JAO YAAR TUM LOG.

asldkjaslkdjlaskdjlaskdj angre ne laash ko vyom ke ghar rakh diya. as if there aren't enough creepy things lying around in there in the first place.

ok vansh seems to be getting real breathless and sickly.

meanwhile idhar angre is doing some kinda depraved play with kiara's laash and........... man everyone in this show is a fucking psychopath.

also it's now been like 3, 4 days since the chick died and ..................... body's not smelling ripe yet?

vansh coughing his way through opening that stupid orange coloured black box and.......... abbe chutiye, zinda rahoge toh khol paoge?????????

anyway the tattoo code whatever only has 5 digits and he needs 6 and meanwhile anu mom has come yelling about how siya's gone missing. great. ek pallllllll ka chain nahi is pagal-khaane mein.

find some letter in her room. vansh's coughing is getting worse and worse. bro, time to get a covid test.

at least siya was helpful enough to tell everyone she's going to saste!bhaiyya.

asli bhaiyya is understandably very very upset. and thus coughing and huffing puffing even more. SOMEONE TAKE THIS DUDE TO A DOCTOR THIS IS GETTING DISTRESSING TO WATCH OML.

anu mom toh is full-on ignoring vansh actively dying in front of her rn and is like OH GOD SIYA KAHIN KOI "NAADAAANI" MEIN ZINDAGI KHARAAB NAA KAR BAITHE (meaning: OMG VIRGINITY KHATRE MEIN HAIIIIII!!!!!!!!)

riddhima is like dude you're not fucking ok and he's still like I'M FINE I'M JUST WORRIED FOR SIYA. idk man i'd be more worried about your obviously failing phepdein and dil than your sister's hymen, but that's just me i guess.

riddhima is calling vyom and threatening him, and nothing gets vyom hornier than being threatened, so ofc, bhai mood mein hai.

vyom, unlike all other tellywood baddies (and even goodies), is a big believer in consent. good on him. 10 points to him over every other chutiya man in this show.

he's informing her about how vansh thikaane lagaofied the laash at his place. oufffffff, y'all need to respect poor dead kiara instead of just shuffling her body back and forth like this. uski aatma tum logon ke upar mandaraaayegi, dekhna.

riddhima's like idc about all this i just want siya to be safe and he's like too late babe. sardi, khaasi, na malaria hua; humko love love love loveriaaaaa huaaaa.

vyom's like siya aayi apni marzi se hai, par jaayegi meri marzi se. guess he don't believe in consent so much anymore. (revokes the 10 points i gave hm earlier. also taking away 50 points for this uglyass suit. bhai tu shirt utar, wohi behtar hai.)

vansh has now progressed to coughing like the people from the pre-movie anti-tobacco ads now.

hides the orange black box in yet another secret room hidden behind some panel, where all the raisinghania wealth is hoarded like pirate's booty in all these crates. y'all crazy, its 2021, put that shit in offshore bank accounts you dumbasses.

anyway he tells angre all this shit kaafi detail mein, and lord idk how angre ke neeyat doesn't phisalofy to just off this fucker and take over the whole thing himself. zero ambition this boy has. ishani hoti isske jagah, toh pakka karti. precap: riddhima trying to console vansh about siya; vyom being a creepy ass monologuing loser as per usual; vansh pays a visit to vyom exuding hella lotta sexy energy.

[vaderssidechick]

Fic Snippet: What It Feels Like To Be Queen, Part III (Boba Fett/Fennec Shand Smut--(NSFW)

Explicit. Just Warnin’ Yas.

Posted on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531320

Rystall panted, poised on the tip of the choice to stay or run, when she suddenly cried out, “Hail Boba Fett, new Ruler of Tatooine!” 

Fennec’s hand clenched Boba’s arm with rising malice. But Fett said nothing, just merely smirked at the woman. Rystall’s posture relaxed a bit as she realized she wasn’t about to be immediately killed. She stepped a little closer to the couple. “I offer to serve you, Mighty One,” she said in thickly-accented Basic. She spread her pale palms, and even dared a seductive smile. “Like I used to. Remember, Fettttttt?” she purred.

Shand’s grip clamped even harder, and Fett could feel the rage shaking in it.

Rystall undulated forward, her eyes drooping with pretentious lust. “And of course, your frrriend here. I could serve her the same way, yesss? Forrrr you, Boba.” She reached for Fennec’s cheek...

Big mistake. 

That hand on Boba’s arm was quicker than a blink. It shot up and wrenched Rystall’s wrist up and back. Before she could take a breath to scream, she was pushed face-first into the sandstone wall, arm wretched back to the point of breaking, and a vibroblade humming across her long throat. 

“Touch me again,” Fennec hissed into the woman’s ear, “and I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it back to you.”

Rystall whimpered and shook against the wall. Boba ran a gloved hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the grin forming there. “Fenn.” Shand shot a glare back over her shoulder at him. “Easy, mesh’la. She’s harmless.”

Fennec lowered the blade from Rystall’s throat, but kept her arm bent and pressed into the wall. Fett sauntered to the poor girl’s side and leaned in her ear. “This is how you’ll serve me,” he rasped. “You’ll fetch my helmet and Fenn her codpiece. Then, you’ll bring us food and drink and towels and oils; you know where to. And then…” He grabbed her Rystall’s jaw in a duratseel grip, “you’ll get the fuck out.”

Rystall’s lips quivered in terror. Boba nodded curtly to Fennec, who took the cue and released her arm. Rystall gave a short pained cry before she stumbled and ran back to the throne room, darting frightened glances back behind her until she disappeared. 

As Fett came to Shand’s other side, she threw him a look dripping with acid. “Please tell me you didn’t stick your dick in that woman.”

Boba merely smirked as he leaned on the wall. “Just her throat. She’s good with that. Singer, you know.”

Fennec glared at him for a few more moments until the laugh she tried to suppress snorted through her nose. “Bastard.”

“Mood killed?” he asked with a raised bare brow. Fennec replied with a sighed moan before coming in and thrusting her mouth onto his, snaking her hand behind his head and her tongue along his lips and teeth. Fett took that as a no. 

But then, she pulled away and knit her brow. “Towels and oils? Are you saying there’s actual water-freshers in this place?”

He smirked. “Better. Come on, I want to show you something.” 

He slid an armored arm around her waist, leading her through the dark halls. They came upon an archway, then a staircase going down, which led to another set of stairs. As they descended, Fennec noted the air definitely smelled of moisture, more so with every downward step. Eventually, the desert-parched air became saturated with humidity. When they reached the bottom, Boba pulled a thickly-beaded curtain back and jerked his head. “Go on.”

Fennec stepped through. The place was pitch black, she couldn’t see a thing, but she could hear water sluicing and dripping. “Boba, what is this place?”

“Never been in this part of Jabba’s palace, have you? Probably because you weren’t a pleasure slave servicing a visiting mob boss.” 

Stepping around her, he raised a gauntlet and pointed it at the wall, igniting the flamethrower. A torch suddenly burst into light, and Fennec pulled a gasp as it lit up a massive underground pleasure grotto.

As Fett moved past her to fire up a few more wall sconces, Shand took it all in with a gaping mouth. An underground pool stretched what looked like at least a half kilometer into the palace’s bedrock, with a small waterfall in the middle, crashing onto boulders made of precious stones. Steam flowed over the surface, indicating it was heated by the belly of Tatooine itself. And all around it were couches of Arisand velvets, tables and lamps made of glass and iron, pits with mattresses donned with sheets and pillows of the finest silks and damasks the galaxy could offer. 

She stepped toward the edge of the massive pool. “This is a natural thermal spring. There’s… gotta be more freshwater here than in Mos’s Eisley and Espa combined,” she breathed.

“Exactly right. This is barely a fraction of what’s beneath us right now,” Fett replied. “Why do you think Jabba built this palace here? He controlled all the water for the entire Jundland Wastes and beyond. Control the water, and you control Tatooine.” 

Fennec huffed a short laugh, kicking herself for never putting the pieces together before. Of course this is why he wanted Jabba’s palace-- the building was nothing compared to what lay underneath it. 

Boba began shedding his armor, unlatching his breastplate, then his shoulder guards, tossing them on a nearby couch. “We’ll enjoy it tonight. And tomorrow, we negotiate with the Tuskens to give them a share.”

Okay, she hadn’t seen that piece falling. “The Tuskens? Why?”

Fett dropped onto the couch. “Jabba wasn’t stupid, but he was arrogant. He never partnered with the locals, just chose to dominate them.” He peeled off one knee rocket-launcher, then the other. “He took this place from a Tusken faction decades ago-- story goes he actually paid off a rogue Jedi to kill them all in the night.” He removed a boot. “I want to do things differently. Ally the Tuskens, bring them into the syndicate, give them a share. Have them at our disposal.”

“You mean,” she breathed, stepping toward him,  “our own personal army.”

Fett nodded as he took off the other boot. “One an off-world crime family would never see coming.” But he then stopped and looked over the rippling pool, thoughtful for a moment.

Shand noticed. “That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He slid his dark eyes back to her. “The Tuskens found me in the wastes after I escaped the Sarlacc. They could have left me to die, but they didn’t. They saved my life, healed me the best they could. I owe them.” Those eyes narrowed when she chuckled. “What?”

“You like to say you’re that not Mandalorian,” Shand said, “but you act like one sometimes with that whole honor thing. Like you did with that Mando and the little green kid.” She paused a moment before venturing, “Is that why you saved me? Paying it forward, as it were?”

Boba set his elbows on his knees, his brow was as stern as granite, his dark eyes as solid as basalt. “No. I saved you because Fennec Shand didn’t deserve to die handcuffed and defenseless at the hands of a two-credit punk with delusions of grandeur.” 

She started a bit at his claim, letting out a breath. But then she smiled. “Just as Boba Fett didn’t deserve to rot in the belly of a sand beast for a millennium.” 

Fett’s lip pulled up in a smirk just as his black eyes softened. “As I said, fate sometimes smiles upon the wretched.” He rose from the couch and undid his underobe, peeling it off and revealing his scarred barrel-chest. He gave her a leer. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna get naked already?”

Fennec shot him a bemused look, then started unfastening her own garb, shrugging off the armorweave jacket first, then the shirt underneath. Boba undid his codpiece and trousers, sliding them off his hips and stepping out. Fennec narrowed her eyes and hummed in admiration of his cock jutting up and out, already hard and big for her. Before she could undo the rest of her pants, Fett was already on her, his big hands tearing at the fasteners, his thumbs pushing the waistband down her hips, his mouth and teeth already on her neck. 

He fisted one hand into her hair while groping her breast with the other, flicking the nipple into a hard little pebble. His smells of sweat, sand, blaster fire and her own cunt swirled in her senses. Fennec moaned and threw back her head, snaking her own hand down his meaty torso and grabbed his cock. She teased a slender finger along the slit of his glans, laving the pre-cum over it-- and there was a lot-- and then spreading it down to his hilt. 

Boba moved his hand down her body, mindful of the cybernetics in her abs, before cupping her cunt. “You’re a gorgeous piece of ass, Fenn,” he growled with that knee-buckling accent from deep in his chest right into her ear.

Most women would have taken that as degrading. But Fennec just laughed, knowing Fett’s own brand of sweet-nothings. But her laugh turned into a grunt when he pushed two fingers up inside her, hooking them to get at her G-spot just right. She bucked into his hand and tried to throw a leg around him, only to realize her pants were still around her boots. 

When she faltered and cursed, Boba chuckled and let her go, backing toward the pool. “Get those off and get in here,” he said before turning around and diving in. 

Fennec didn’t need to be told twice; her core was pulsing and clenching with unabashed need to be filled. She quickly stripped her boots and pants off and plunged into the pool. 

Fett had swum some ways out, finding a ledge under the water to sit on. He took a moment to just watch this beautiful woman glide through the water to him in the flickering torchlight, watching her black hair swirl over her athletic body, gripping himself and getting himself even harder for her.  

She emerged from under the water with a gasp for air and, without a moment’s hesitation, climbed on top of him. Boba gripped her neck with one hand and an ass cheek in the other, pulling her down and sinking his engorged cock into her in one rough move. Fennec crashed her lips into Fett’s, gorging on his mouth as she shamelessly rode him, clutching his bald head in both her hands. 

Her walls gripped his dick like a slicked fist, milking it with unrestrained ferocity. His wet hands played up and down her back as he grabbed her ass. He broke the kiss to stare unblinking into her eyes, lips curled in a feral snarl. “That’s it, baby,” he hissed through his clenched jaw, “take it, take what you want. It’s all yours.”

Fennec let out a throaty laugh wrapped around a groan, and whipped her wet hair over her shoulder without breaking her fierce stride. “You’re right, it IS all mine,” she growled, mimicking his snarl. “That means no more throat-kiffing any more of Jabba’s sloppy seconds, got it?”

Boba chuckled and fucked up hard inside her, eliciting a grunt from her throat. “I like when you get jealous.”

“Bastard,” she growled through a grin.

“Come on, show me, Fenn.” His hands landed on her hips, urging a new pace. “Cum on my dick. Show me what a bastard I am.”

Into her ears and straight down to her clit, Fennec pumped herself hard on him, up and down, in and in and in and in-- it was like her G-spot was sparking and shooting currents straight up her spine. She flung herself straight up on him, giving Fett a spectacular view of her tits bouncing and the light show of her cybernetics as she used him to chase her pleasure. Finally, wide-eyed and mouth agape, Fennec threw her head back and a stream of Huttese profanity erupted from her gullet as her entire body shook and clamped on his cock. 

It took all of his control not to cum with her-- but he wasn’t just done with her yet. Once again, Fett didn’t let her have her little afterglow. He pushed her off him and pushed back into the water, then turned around and grabbed a generous hold of her hair. Swimming to the other side, he pulled Fennec along on her back.

“BOBA!” she shrieked, uselessly grabbing at his hand, “you son of a bitch!”

“Easy there, princess,” he scoffed, “you got yours. Now it’s time to get mine.”

“Don’t call me ‘princess’!” Shand barked. “I hate that!” But underneath the bark, there was a hint of laughter. 

“As you wish, Queen.” He was answered by another half-furious growl.

There were steps on the other side leading out of the pool. Boba pulled Fennec into his arms and half-hoisted her onto his shoulder, carrying her out of the water. Fennec half-seriously, half-playfully thrashed around, slippery in his arms, beating her fists against his back. But when they reached a massive mattressed pit laden with Arisand pillows and he threw her down on her back, she stopped all pretense of struggle and just took him in. Fett stood over her in the torchlight; naked and proud, scarred and thickly muscled, his cock jutting hard and up, breathing heavy and looking at her like he was about to eat her alive. 

She smirked, shrugged, and spread her legs. “Well?”

Languidly, Boba took one step into the pillowed pit-- then pounced on her like a loth-wolf. Catching both her wrists in one hand, he thrust them over her head while gripping his cock with the other and sheathing it into her slick, swollen cunt full-hilt. 

Fennec howled and arched, wrapping her long legs around his back as Fett ploughed into her. Taking her wrists now in both hands, he still held her down as he held himself up and over her, snaring her eyes in his glare as he took her as savagely as she did him moments ago. His cock was a battering ram, stretching her wide and deep, pummeling her into a submission she’d never given to another. And she never would-- Boba Fett wasn’t just her partner nor her rescuer. He was, indeed, her king.  

His balls pulled tight inside him as his body tensed to the breaking point. He let go of Fennec’s wrists to shift himself and her, hooking his arms under her knees and crushing them into her chest. His pacing stuttered but his thrusts only picked up as he rammed himself into her, harder, harder, HARDER--

The tension snapped, and Fett erupted inside her with a violent slam of his hips and a low, guttural roar. He slid an arm out from under her knees and groped her breast as his seed spurted in waves, his hips snapping with every pulse. Fennec watched him with a leering smile, grasping his cock with her muscles, intent on draining every drop. But even as she did and looked up into his harsh face, twitching with aftershocks yet uncharacteristically content, a pang went through her: A lot of good it would do. 

Fett craned his neck back and forth, pulling long hard breaths as he softened inside her. He ran his calloused hand over her sinewy body, bending down to set his teeth to her breast and gently raking them across her nipple, then his tongue over the soft bite. He pulled out and rolled onto his back, his big chest heaving with breath. 

It wasn’t often Boba Fett smiled, but one crept across his battered face-- until he turned and saw Fennec staring up at the stone ceiling, her expression pinched and a little sad. “Eh,” he whispered, “what’s with the face?”

She pulled a long breath through her nose as her hand traveled absently down her body to rest on the cybernetics in her abs. “I can’t give you a kid. You know that, right?”

Boba rolled onto his elbow, his brow furrowed. “Where’d that come from?”

Shand shrugged. “King needs an heir, right? Even Jabba had a couple.”

“Fat good that did ‘im,” Boba grunted. “They were all picked off the minute word got out that he was dead.” He cupped her breast and leaned into her. “Fenn, even if you could, I couldn’t give you one either.” She rolled her head to him, surprise in her eyes. He smirked. “Why do you think my father wanted a clone for a son? Not like he didn’t have women beating his door down for the chance to have his kid.” He lazily rubbed her torso up and down. “You can do the math.”

Fennec gazed at him for a moment before smirking and covering his hand with her own. “We’re certainly a pair of the wretched, aren’t we?”

Both their attention suddenly focused on the grotto entrance when they heard the scuff of a shoe. Shand sat straight up, but Boba remained relaxed when Rystall appeared in the torchlight. Neither of them did anything to hide their nudity, but Fennec snorted a laugh through her nose as she watched the poor woman trying to balance a tray of food and drink in one arm while carrying Fett’s helmet with the other. When Rystall saw them lying there, she stumbled on her needle-thin heels, almost dropping the tray. Fennec would have given anything to have watched that lanky bitch stumble down those stairs.

Fett tossed a gesture at a table beside them. “Set the tray down here and put my helmet with the rest of my armor.” 

Rystall complied, shakily bending at the knee to place the tray on the table. Fennec waited until the tray was stable before grabbing a pillow and hurling it at Rystall. “And then get THE FUCK OUT,” she snarled. 

Poor Rystall shrieked and stumbled on her heels as she ran out, throwing the helmet and Fennec’s codpiece on the sofa as she fled. Fennec leaned back on her elbows and turned to Boba, a satisfied smirk playing across her lips.

He mimicked her smirk as he took her in. Love was not a word that had ever made it into Fett’s vernacular. But damned if he hadn’t chosen his Queen well. 

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 21)

On unsteady, still shaky legs Mila gets off the warm motorcycle seat and finds foothold against the asphalt. Discreetly she adjusts the slightly wet crotch area on the jeans, while Daryl leads the heavy motorcycle down the ditch, off road and out of sight for potential thieves. Thankfully her jeans are washed out black, making the warm, wet stain less noticeable. She’s still a bit hazy in the head. What the hell just happened? The fuck of a lifetime, that’s what’s happened! Mila can’t put it any other way. What a fucking orgasm! The thought of it almost makes her knees turn into jelly. 

As soon as they reached climax, Mila on top of a table with Daryl standing between her legs, it felt like she’d just been taking some psychedelic drug, as if her mind was going bananas. Her body felt feverish, her legs trembled as if she’d just run a marathon and her ‘sweet-spot’ pounded to the frantic beat of her heart. The archer in front of her, with one hand in a firm grip around her rear end, seemed to feel the same, trying his best to get a grip of the whole situation and what just happened, and in Mila’s case at least, how amazing it was! The fact that something warm ran down Mila’s inner thigh at the same time didn’t even bother her. It was too late to think about protection anyway at that stage. Hadn’t she read somewhere that it was all ‘good to go’ if it happened on top of a sturdy table, or was that just wishful horny thinking? Probably. The idea of whether a furniture functioned as a fullworthy contraceptive disappeared from Mila’s head when Daryl opened his mouth and, for the first time since they met outside the food store and pointed weapons at each other, expressed something from his heart, between heavy breathing. 

Mila follows Daryl into the woods, watches as the broad shouldered man leans the motorcycle against a tree and covers it with branches. The fresh memory of the firm grip around her thigh, his fingers grasping her hair and necks and the intense kissing, passes through her head, causing a pleasant shiver to run throughout Mila’s body. The thought of how it felt when he penetrated her, how he almost filled her all the way up her throat with his big- 

“Hey?”

Mila returns, almost drowsy, to the present and looks at Daryl, who’s seemingly back to his usual self.

“Hm?” She utters. “You done?” 

“I’ll get it later.” Daryl replies and nods his head into the woods. “Let’s get back.” He turns and starts walking. Mila strides up next to him. The involuntary celibacy she’s found herself in after Jim’s death has made her almost violently horny without knowing it. Her whole psyche and physique is disrupted;  is this what the walkers feel like all the time? Bozhe moy, the silent archer has awakened a monster inside of her, a monster that’s been repressed by grief and alcohol for the last couple of months. Nothing strange about it. But the fact that she shagged him on top of a table in an abandoned house, during a full blown apocalypse without protection was evidence enough that the ‘monster’, otherwise known as Mila, was back in business. 

“What ya’ said-” Daryl begins, but he hesitates. “I just-” once again he pauses. “Fuck-” Mila puts her hand on his arm, forces him to break and stop. “I mean, ya don’t have to-” his eyes flicker, he looks iffy and on the verge to implode. 

She needs to do something, needs to save him from having an emotional meltdown, probably one of few he’s ever had in his life. Mila interrupts him by pressing her lips against his, cupping his face, feeling the stubble brush up against the inside of her palms. She wants him, she wants him more than anything. She’s done grieving. When the world and life itself can end at any moment, but god forbid it would, there’s no time to mourn forever, and lately, Mila has felt feelings beyond abrasive grief and despair in her heart, that she has to sedate with lethal doses of alcohol. She’s been alive, not just survived, even though she was close to dying there for a while. That someone could wake up in the morning and not feel pure anxiety about having the ability to feel emotions, what a feeling! The reason that she no longer wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, after once again dreaming that she had to kill Jim, stands in front of her in the leafy woods, surrounded by greenery with a crossbow in his hand, completely unaware of his effect on her. 

Mila softly tears herself from him.

“You heard me before.” She says steadily.

”Wasn’t really- ” 

Daryl interrupts himself when the sound of voices in the distance bounce against the beeches around them. Like a shepherd who has weathered a squirrel, Daryl tips his ears and looks in the direction of Alexandria, tightening his grip around the crossbow. Mila’s brain shifts to battle ready in a second. She starts running toward the community before Daryl can say a word. Has the walkers managed to climb the wall, or worse? Daryl grabs her arm and tails her in just as they reach the edge of the greenery, pulls her in behind a tree. With her back against the rough surface and her heart pounding, Mila looks out from behind it. She sighs deeply, relieved, by the sight of the intact walls surrounding Alexandria. But in the air, she catches sight of Spencer. He’s dangling in a rope between one of the watchtowers and the roof of the burned church, with a grappling hook. 

“What the-”

Below Spencer, on the ground, the walkers hungrily gropes for his sprawling feet, like children groping for the candy in a pinata. The only thing that sets them apart is the lack of long sticks and colorful party hats. Rick screams at Spencer from the watchtower to ‘get his ass back over there’. The rope shakes by Spencer’s movements.  

“He’s gonna fall.” Daryl exhales. 

The next moment they see Spencer fall to the ground, into the hungry herd. Mila swears a few well-chosen, nasty words in her native language and steps out from behind the tree, with the AK lifted in front of her, closely followed by Daryl with the crossbow raised. 

“Spence, come on!” Rick shouts up in the watchtower, before he catches sight of her and Daryl, emerging from the trees. “Get him outta there!” he calls in their directions. “I’ll pull you up!”

“We’re on it!” Daryl shouts back as he sends an arrow into the head of a walker, that tries to close its jaws around Spencers kicking legs, while he desperately tries to get up from the ground. 

Under cover of heavy gunfire from Tara, hanging over the edge of the wall, and bare knuckles and arrows from Daryl, Mila shoves herself through the stinkin’ herd. She grabs Spencer in the back of the shirt and thugs at it as if he was a mischievous dog, forcing him to stumble over to the wall, where she presses herself and him up against the cold sheet. 

“Get up there, mudak!” Mila starts shooting walkers approaching with open jaws. In the corner of her eye she glares at Spencer, what a saphead. “Davay, davay!” She shouts, or more like barks, at him. 

While Rick, with the help of Tobin, pulls Spencer up with the help of the rope and back to safety in Alexandria, Daryl reaches the wall. He leans up against the corrugated sheet next to her and gives Spencer a hefty push, causing him to fly handlessly, the last bit over the wall. He lands with a thud on the other side. 

“Fuckin’ moron.” he mutters and looks down at her. “Ya’ next.” 

“I’ll manage on my own.” She grabs a firm hold on the rope that dangles over the edge of the wall. Mila hangs the rifle’s shoulder strap over her shoulder, grabs the rope and starts to climb, swearing and grunting by the not yet healed, sore wound, causing her core muscles to pound angrily. “Fucking, shitty, fuck fuck fuck!”

She crawls over the edge of the wall, with some help from Rick, while Daryl grabs the rope on the other side. While Rick screams something she can’t comprehend to Tara at the other tower, Mila looks at Spencer. Daryl gets over the edge of the wall at the same time as Rick gets a middle finger from Tara, and instead turns to Spencer.

“The hell’s the matter with ya’?!” Daryl sputters. 

Spencer pants, doesn’t reply at first, just wiggles his feet. He’s missing a shoe. 

“Lost the damn shoe. Crap.”

Without a word and with a head pounding with rage, Mila squats and grabs a hold of Spencer’s other foot. She tears the shoe from it and, without a word, throws it with all her power in a wide angle over the wall. With lips pressed to a narrow line, Mila looks at Spencer, whose face has transformed into a sheepish expression. 

“There. Now you lost both.” Mila sputters with a grunt as she stands up. “Mudak!”

She climbs down the ladder, while Rick takes over the scolding-torch and continues to yell at the now shoeless young man. Down on solid ground, Mila exhales and combs her windswept hair out of her flushing face, while Spencer attempts to explain his stupid decision to dangle over the herd like a bait. People pass her along the road and in the field behind the solar panels a group has gathered around Rosita with machetes. 

“I was trying to help.” Spencer pleads somewhere over her head. 

“That’s not helping.” Mila cries back towards the watchtower. “That’s just dumb!” 

The men up in the tower must’ve heard her, couldn’t have avoided hearing, but she receives no response. Rick just keeps barking like an angry pitbull at the poor fool. Daryl climbs down and joins her on the ground. 

“Idiot.” He wipes one of the arrows against his trouser leg. “Y’alright?”

“I would have easily made that climb.” Mila says, in an attempt to light up the mood. “Just saying.”

Daryl lets out a faint chuckle through his nostrils. Behind them, the others climb down from the tower and join them on the ground. Spencer hurries away, in his dirty socks, squeezing the rifle in his hands, followed by Tobin, muttering about ‘you stupid kids will be the death of me’. Rick looks anything but happy, peering at them through squinting eyes in the sunlight.  

“What the hell was that?” the sheriff points at the wall, too angry or upset to speak. For what, Mila wonders. No one got hurt. Spencer lost his shoes but that’s a piss in Mississippi in comparison to what could’ve happened if Rick, Tobin and Tara wasn’t there, and she and Daryl didn’t arrive just on time to save Spencer’s ass. “Where the fuck’ve you been?” Rick scoffs at the two of them. 

Mila looks at Daryl. He’s just as calm, or rather untouched, as usual. But he says nothing. What would he say? The truth? It is alluring, but not appropriate right now. Mila’s sure Daryl would never, ever, tell such a thing to anyone. Rick, on the other hand, seems to want to scold them as well, as he did with Spencer. Mila knows she should keep quiet, but-

“Are you angry?” 

The former sheriff is close to having a seizure at her cocky remark. 

“Are you kidding me?” Rick yells at her, making poor Eugene, standing over at Rosita’s ‘how to handle a machete’-school, to drop his machete into the grass as if it was a big spider. Rick points his index finger at Mila and Daryl. “You two left without a word to anyone- People are still missing. Our people! People here are scared, there’s one of those goddamn Wolf locked up in here because Morgan refuses to get blood on his hands... And Spence- I have every right to be mad!”

Rick’s eyes are furious, but he meets her gaze steadfastly. Mila feels a hand, Daryls, on her upper arm; an attempt to prevent her from, maybe, jump Rick.  

“Fine.” Mila sputters. “But don’t blame Morgan’s hippy dippy shit on me, or any of us. He’s his own damn responsibility. Not mine. If it was up to me, I’d neuter that… that-” She points towards the houses, where Morgan has hid the Wolf-man responsible for her wounds. “That asshole! I’m still tempted, believe me.” 

The stern sheriff puts his hands to his hips. Sweat trickles down his forehead. The white t-shirt is stained with dirt and patches of sweat. It looks like he’s had a rough day. But she won’t let him spoil her day, which has been quite magnificent so far. 

Rick looks at her, as to say; ‘please, help me here, what am I gonna do with Morgan?’As if Mila knew? She doesn’t understand Morgan's philosophy either and doesn’t agree with it at all. But she’s also crazy, genetically, obviously. Not that Rick knows about it.

“He thinks he can change that... man.” Rick bites his lower lip.

“And he’s a fool for thinking so, I agree.” Mila clenches her jaw. “That man is unsaveable, whatever Morgan believes. But Morgan’s our friend. The dumbest of ‘em all in this case, but still-”

Rick stays deadpan, cop-faced. He probably counts ‘one, two, three’ inside his head, to hopefully have a calmer mind when he comes to ‘ten’. 

“You didn’t see the others?” He asks instead.

“They’re not back?” Daryl looks at his friend in disbelief. “None of ‘em?”

Rick shakes his head. 

“Should be by now.” He shifts his weight to the other leg. “Where’ve you been anyway?”

“O-out.” Mila replies, stuttering.

“Doing what?” 

The clear blue eyes shift from her to Daryl, back to her, before setting on Daryl. On the inside, Mila giggles unabashedly. If he only knew. Sure, they left Alexandria to look for a pair of kid’s size nine sneakers for Juri, but things escalated from there, to say the least. Rick just has to look at Daryl to be able to put two and two together surprisingly fast. The two men know each other more than well by now, every little thing. Rick’s eyebrows rise slightly in his sweaty forehead and the angry facial expression disappears in a twinkle, as if he somehow, not entirely, can guess what happened on their small excursion. But he doesn’t say anything. In the corner of her eye, Daryl doesn’t seem to know exactly where to look, finally deciding to try and meet Rick’s ever so slightly amused face. The faint smirk, as in disbelief, is enough to get Daryl, who’s back to his grumpy self, going. 

”What?” The big archer replies, somewhere between irritated and uncomfortable.

”Nothing.” Rick shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. Glad you're back.” Rick turns around on the spot and starts walking away from them. “Safe.” 

Mila turns her head to Daryl, meets his eyes beneath the brown hair. She nudges her head to the side, as to ask him to walk with her. Telepathy or not; they begin to move in a slow pace towards the solar panels. The sun warms the back of her head. Things are calm. But she notices Daryl is sunken in thoughts. She puts her hand on his arm, feels the heat his body gives off throughout her entire body. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Just-” He looks down on her hand. “Now what?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be back.” Mila caresses him over the scruffy cheek, runs her hand down his muscular chest, encased in dark, worn shirt fabric and the biker vest, crowned by a pair of angel wings on the back. “I’m sure they’re-”

“No.” Daryl interrupts and the blue eyes almost devour her. “Just... “ He grasps for words. “This.” He says, looking down at her lips, then letting his eyes go back up to hers. ”Us.”

Everything that happens after ‘us’, happens as in slow motion. A crackling sound, like when loggers cut down trees, rumbles over the area and drowns the sound of birds, laughter and everything else around them. The cracking sound forces Mila to turn her head to the right, just in time to see the burnt church tower raging down over the wall against them.

[canesshi]

Heat | 5

Pairing: Dragonshifter!Jimin x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Plot: Your husband was supposed to steal your heart, but the dragon that kidnapped you from your own wedding made it hard for him to do so.

A/N: Next part already in progress! I’ll try to update more!!

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [to be continued]

Panting slightly you reached the top after having to rest a few times. The steepness kept increasing on the way up and your throat felt dry as you finally sat down against a lonely boulder at the far top of the mountain. The view was amazing, you weren’t going to deny that. The ocean looked so calm and pretty. The blue seemed to darken the further away you looked until the sea and the sky met. You wondered how long you had been climbing as you saw that the sky started to be painted in beautiful orange and purple colors.

Deciding that you should look for the shelter Jimin had talked about, you looked around and quickly found a shallow opening in the mountain. Slowly inching inside, your eyes opened wide. You had expected a dark and wet cave that would make you feel way too claustophobic but instead in front of you was a lit and open space. The walls of the cave were spotted with holes that provided enough light to come in but kept you from accidentally falling down. It didn’t look like a home but a few curtains hung here and there. Some were torn and looked rather makeshift but they made the empty space feel more lively. A carpet was on the floor in a corner with a few pillows resting on top. Everything looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years.

Carefully dusting off the old but soft carpet und pillows you sat down and enjoyed the warmth they provided. That’s when you heard another person enter and of course you knew who it was.

Jimin looked roughed out. Hair messy and sweaty, which -to be honest- you were too, but he looked worse. As he entered further and noticed you sitting on the carpet you quickly stood up. What were you thinking. This was probably his bed and you just rudely invaded his most private space. You were about to mumble out an apology but instead he started talking.

“I know it’s not much and it’s not the best and probably not what you’re used to but I figured it would be better than having to sleep on the ground.” He awkwardly rubbed his arm and looked everywhere but your face.

“Is this where you live?”, you asked and were taken aback when a certain ball of fluff ran up to you and cuddled your leg. He must’ve been by Jimin’s side this whole time.

“I used to live here but I haven’t been up here since... I don’t really know.. some time.”, he answered and gently reached out to touch one of the see-through curtains.

“It’s nice. Could need a bit of cleaning up, though.”, you said and took another glance around.

And that’s exactly what the two of you did for the rest of the day. You dusted out the carpet and pillows and took down the curtains to wash them in the ocean -You weren’t really happy about having to walk down all the way again but Jimin had brought up the topic food and that you still needed to find something to eat anyway- and so you ended up washing the curtains while he fished with a spear. After you had finished washing everything you watched Jimin fishing for a while until it got too boring, even though you enjoyed watching him move with such grace and control over every single muscle in his body.

Wandering along the beach you discovered an old boat. For a moment you thought it would be a good idea to remember where it was just in case you needed to escape quickly but the gaping hole on the bottom pretty much wiped out these ideas. Nonetheless, the boat provided a few treasures. Vases, fabric, blankets, jewelry and some dusty dresses and shirts . Unfurtunately, there was rotten food as well and it made you gag rentlessly. You had to call Jimin after some time so he could help you carry stuff up the mountain, which in the end he ended up carrying everything of because your arms got too tired on the way up and you constantly dropped everything.

It was almost pitch black outside as the two of you finished decorating the place. You had put the vases all over the place to decorate a bit. You used the blankets to make the ‘bed’ a bit more comfortable and the fabric was just there to decorate the cold stone walls a little. Jimin had lit a few torches he had found somewhere and it made everything look so much cozier and for the first time since you’ve been here you felt safe.

“You know,”, you started as the two of you watched the stars together. “I think it’s quite comfotable. Despite having to walk all the way up and down the mountain to get anywhere!” He chuckled.

“It never felt this cozy in here before.”, he admitted and smiled gently.

“Why is it that you don’t live in here anymore?”, you asked after some time of silence. He seemed to think about it for some time before turning your direction again. “I... I didn’t want to, and I didn’t need to.” Even though you didn’t quite understand what he meant, you thought that it was probably better to let him be.

A yawn made you awfully aware of how tired you were. Tired and exhausted from the day’s work but it had been worth it in the end. Stretching your arms and yawning again, you stood up from where the two of you were sitting.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep. Today has been quite eventful.” The boy nodded and stood up as well. “Have a good night’s rest.”, he answered and went to leave but you stopped him, confused. “Are you leaving? Where are you going?” He stopped in his tracks and seemed tense but still managed to have a soft expression. “It’s better for me to leave. There’s nothing going to happen to you here, don’t worry. If something’s wrong just call for me. I’ll be there.” You wanted to argue and tell him to share the bed with you but once again you were reminded of who, or what, he really was. It wasn’t safe. So you said nothing and watched him leave. He looked conflicted but tried to hide it behind the smile he sent your way before exiting the place.

*

Waking up had never felt so refreshing. The sun tickled your senses and made you wake up fairly early but you felt energized and well-rested. Even though it was still quite chilly and the wind calmly brushed the curtains aside and revealed the gorgeous view, you didn’t hesitate to leave your bed. Wanting to be productive today, you decided that the sooner you were up the sooner you could start your tasks for the day - whatever those might be.

The way down to the bottom of the mountain was still a pain in the ass and you felt your muscles ache from the day before but that didn’t stop you from nearly tumbling down the whole way with how cheerful you were. You decided that washing up was a good idea to start the day and tried to remember where the fresh-water wells had been. But you stopped before even heading off. On the beach, in the white and warm sand, laid a figure. It was obvious who it was. Of course, the two of you were the only ones here, but it was still odd. He seemed so carefree and relaxed whenever he was just doing nothing, staring into the distance or thinking to himself.

His eyes were closed and the wind brushed through his hair. Was he sleeping? Had he been sleeping there? Now you felt more than bad. Battling with yourself for a bit you decided you shouldn’t disturb him and just slowly sneak past his sleeping figure. Carefully you started walking, making sure you were as quiet as possible and being as far away from him as possible.

The sudden screech not only made you let out an almost equally loud gasp, but it also startled the young male awake. He was on his legs in only seconds, glaring holes into your very being.

“Stupid, dumb brute!”, you cursed as the annoying little thing hissed at you and hurried away from where you had stepped on its tail. Jimins figure relaxed as soon as he noticed that it was just you. “Sorry. I was trying really hard to be quiet, I promise!”, you apologized quickly but Jimin didn’t even seem mad at all. His expression was soft and still full of sleep. His hair was messy and his eyes a little puffy. “Don’t worry. I meant to get up a while ago anyway. I must’ve fallen asleep again.” He scratched the back of his head. “Did you have any breakfeast yet? Probably not, right?”

You nodded. You would literally be down to murder anyone that would get in the way of you getting some food. Even if it was Jimin. He dusted off his clothes and ran a hand through his hair to at least somewhat smooth it down. Should you talk to him about him sleeping on the beach? It would probably get awkward so you decided that you would bring it up later. “Come on. Let’s search for some fruits. I don’t feel like having fish again.”, he chuckled and you couldn’t agree enough. The last thing you’d want to eat right now was another one of those plain fish. You followed him as he started walking in a direction you hadn’t been to yet. It was a part of the island that was a little bit greener. Some Trees, bushes and other plants growing on the small patch of green moss against where the mountain rose up from the ground. “Watch your step. Be careful!”, he said as he led you deeper into the tiny forest - if one could even call it that. He suddenly stopped and you, being the graceful human that you were, walked straight into him, bumping against his solid back. He turned around and smiled. “Didn’t I just say ‘be careful’?” You felt your face heat up but he didn’t notice you turning a pale shade of red because he was busy reaching for some yellow fruits that were hanging in the tree in front of you. He stretched, jumped, did nearly everything but wasn’t able to reach the juicy fruits.

“Lift me up!”, you blurted out. For a moment he seemed unsure but then nodded his head, squatting so that you could climb onto his shoulders. What a great idea it was to wear a freaking dress! Trying to make it not as awkward as it already was, you quickly got onto his shoulders, making sure your skirt wasn’t raising up too high to reveal anything - not that he would have seen anything anyway - and reached for the fruits. You handed him a few before he told you that it would be enough. He leaned down again so you could comfortably get off his shoulders. After practically jumping off you quickly smoothed out your skirt in fear he might have seen something he shouldn’t have seen.

“What are these?”, you asked as he handed you two of the yellow fruits. “I’ve never seen anything like them before.”

“To be honest,” he helped you get out of the tiny forest again,”I don’t know their name either. I don’t think they have one. But, they are somewhat similar to honey melons. You’ll see in a few minutes.”

Jimin had a lot of convincing to do to make you climb the mountain again. Since the sky was getting a little cloudy he figured it would be best to find shelter before it started raining. But you nearly dropped dead as you reached the mountain top. Having dropped the melons two times each on your way up and crying for their lifes as you ran down to catch them again before they tumbled down the whole way, you were more than exhausted. You had seen Jimin roll his eyes at you once you reached the top and fell to your knees like a drama queen.

“How are you even supposed to eat these?”, you spat angrily as you tried biting into one. Jimin grabbed the fruit out of your hand and shook his head in disbelief. “Well, not like that to begin with.” He took one fruit, got a tight grip on it and ripped it in half. He handed you one half while he kept the other one for himself. “Try it.”, he encouraged as he saw you critically looking at the fruit. Its flesh was a vibrant purple and you were positive that the fruit’s juice would ruin all of your clothes forever but you took a big bite out of it anyway. You were greeted with a subtle sweetness that lingered but wasn’t too agressive.

“These are so good!”, you said and devoured the rest of your half in only a few big bites. Jimin hat ripped another one open for you while he was still finishing his first piece. After stuffing your tummy to the brink and Jimin being more than full too you sighed loudly. It had started raining and the wind had gotten a lot colder than before.

“I don’t like these weather shifts.”, he suddenly said after some time of silence. “Yes. It’s annoying. I hate rainy days.”, you answered but he shook his head while staring out into the distance. “That’s not what I mean. There’s something up. I can feel it... The dragon feels it too.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a shiver ran down your body. Everytime the dragon was mentioned you froze up instantly. Not only because you were reminded of how hopeless your situation was but also that he had been trying to eat you not too long ago.

“Jimin.” He turned his head, his eyes being sharper than normally as he looked you dead in the eye. “About the dragon. Why-... I mean, how-...I’m sorry I don’t know how to-” - “My dad.”, Jimin knew what you wanted to know, he didn’t need you to ramble on and on about it. “He was just like me. I don’t know why creatures like us exist. It’s just something that you’ll never get an answer for. Anyway, the way dragons are born is different. That’s why we steal maidens.”

You gasped quietly but he continued. “We sacrifice them. Burn them in ashes and from those ashes a newborn will rise. That’s the only way. Once the child has reached a certain age, the dragon will show up for the very first time. It’s painful. Loosing control over your body, not being your own master anymore. From that day on, the child will be trained to control their dragon. Still, you will never fully manage to be the dragon’s master.”

He paused and took a deep breath.

“My dad died before the dragon showed up. I never learned to control it. I was six, maybe even seven when a fleet arrived. They were searching for a maiden that once got stolen. She was long dead at that point. But the blood lust and need for revenge still burned within all of them. My dad told me to hide while he would be dealing with them. I didn’t know what he ment by that but he taught me to trust him no matter what so I did like I was told. I hid on a ledge so I could still overlook what was happening. My dad was in full control of his dragon, unlike me. He faught them off the best he could. After burning every men out there alive he returned to me. He didn’t know that one man was still alive. That monster had spotted me on the ledge and climbed up the mountain while everyone else was at the beach fighting. The moment my dad landed on the ledge in front of me the man charged at him and the speer he was carrying pierched through the dragons body. It was gruesome. I’ll never forget how his dead body slipped from the edge while I was crying for him to wake up. The man had been badly injured and succumbed to his injuries soon after. I was the only one left alive, without anyone to teach me how to control the dragon. When it first showed up I was around ten years old. I was so scared. I had noone by my side to comfort me. I remember falling down into the sea and not being able to surface again the very first time. But I don’t remember much of that... Of being the dragon.” He paused and took a deep breath, “I’ll never be able to show dragonborns how to control it. Being so submisse to the dragon is the greatest threat. It would have been my death years ago but somehow... I don’t know... I lived on. I’m still here.”

You didn’t know what to say. Or if you should even say something at all. You gently let a hand rest on his shoulder. The weather outside seemed to match the mood. The sky was as dark as it could get. Thick, black clouds ruling over the sky and swallowing it completely. A lightning lit up the darkness for a split second before an evil and dark rumble followed it, making you flinch. Jimins brows were furrowed and you knew he knew something you didn’t. Something was wrong. Jimin tensed under your touch and you quickly tore your hand away as you felt him burning up.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this mess. But I am not my own master, you must understand.” He suddenly looked cold, as if he hadn’t just told you his heartbreaking story. “I need to leave. Stay here not matter what.”

And he left. Rain soaking his clothes and hair the second he got outside. The sky growled as he disappeared in the distance.

Next part >>

[reifromrfa]

Come Home: Vanderwood x MC

Hey guys! I know it’s been a while, but here’s something I wrote for the most handsome secret agent because he deserves all the love <3

The story was inspired by the latest Mission Impossible movie haha i think it was Fallout? But yeah, I won’t spoil anything!! Haha i hope you like it! :D

Come Home: Vanderwood x MC

“I won’t go far!”

“Be careful of the wolves, MC~!”

MC laughs and waves before stepping out of the cabin, a slight breeze greeting her

She walks along the path, heading for the lake

The moonlight illuminates the forest around her, the tiki torches her friends set up guiding her to her destination

It’s the middle of summer and MC agreed to go on a trip to the lake with her friends

Just her and nature…some fun in the sun

MC stands in front of the lake and watches the still waters, slipping her hands into the pockets of her hoodie

A sense of calm washes over her as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath

It’s been a year

A year of…peace

A year of longing

A year…of acceptance

She lets out her breath and opens her eyes, knowing in her heart that she did the right thing

That they did the right thing

She lets her thoughts drift, back to a year ago, when everything was perfect

But her thoughts are interrupted by the shuffling of leaves in the forest behind her

MC whirls around, heart hammering against her chest as she squints in the darkness, trying to look for the source of the sound

It could have been the wind…

A twig snaps and MC lets out a surprised cry, taking a step back

Maybe I should head back

But for some reason, she stays

She stays because she feels someone watching her

She feels the familiar tug in her heart and for a moment, everything is quiet

And then, she hears footsteps coming closer to her

And MC sees a pair of hiking boots…black shirt…black gloves...

Hazel eyes meet brown ones and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs

Unconsciously, she steps forward, eyes wide, everything else blurring into the background…

He looks at her —sun-kissed skin, cheeks slightly flushed, those beautiful eyes gazing into his soul

She looks healthy…

Enchanting

The moonlight illuminates her features and he can’t help but close the distance between them and take her into his arms, crushing her against him as he buries his face into her hair

For one minute

For one fucking minute

He’s going to let himself forget everything

His training, his mission

His promise

He lets himself forget that he’s a fucking agent who’s not even supposed to have a heart

Because she’s here…she’s here in front of him and he can’t resist

He can’t resist the tug on his heart, the way she beckons him to her

The woman who owns his heart, his soul

The only person in the world he wants to protect, the one he fights for

Vanderwood plants a kiss on her head, the scent of her shampoo filling his senses

“Baby.”

MC clings to him and buries her face into his chest, breathing him in

She knows, she knows this is a fleeting moment

That’s why she holds him fiercely, refusing to let go

Let me have this moment…please

Let me have him

But she already feels Vanderwood pulling back slightly

“Baby…baby, you need to listen.”

Her heart is already breaking

But on the outside, she puts on a brave face

The only reason he could be here…dressed like he is

Is because he’s on a mission

Vanderwood pulls backs enough that they could look into each other’s eyes

He wears a serious expression, his face etched with worry

“MC, I need you to get yourself and your friends out of here as soon as you can, do you hear me? There’s a team of highly trained…”

His lip is split open

There are new scars on his arms, and God knows what new scars are underneath his clothes

He looks tired, exhausted —eyes a little bloodshot but still sharp and focused

She hears what Vanderwood is saying —a group of hired mercenaries, bomb, dangerous, ‘you have to get to safety’

But as she stares at him, the man she so desperately loves, she can’t help wishing that he would get himself to safety too

MC knows though…she knows her lover is going right into the middle of the fight, to try and stop it

And it takes every ounce of willpower not to beg him to come with her, not to cry and hold him and never let go

“…do you understand, MC?”

I don’t understand why it has to be you

Why it’s up to you to save everyone

Who’s going to save you, Vanderwood?

On the outside though, she nods and swallows the lump in her throat, blinking back the tears from her eyes

“I understand.”

Vanderwood gives her one sharp nod then he looks away from her

MC couldn’t breathe, the thought of watching his back as he ran into danger nearly rooting her to the ground

The agent releases her, but instead of walking away, he reaches for his wrist and unclips his glove, pulling it off his hand

She closes her eyes as his fingers graze her cheek, before his palm presses against her skin

Vanderwood cups her cheek, his thumb caressing her gently, softly

Hands that kill, hands that keep the world safe

Rough, calloused hands…scarred hands

How could they be this gentle?

He…he is gentle. A good man.

Despite what he thinks of himself, Vanderwood was never a monster, not to her

To MC, he was her light, a light she couldn’t find herself looking away from, didn’t want to look away from

Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me again.

“MC…” he whispers softly

“Vanderwood,” she whispers back, laying her hand on top of his

She looks into his eyes

Vanderwood gives her a small smile before his fingers move to her eyes and he wipes away the tears that started to fall

He leans in and plants a kiss on her forehead, closing his eyes

“Hey.”

“Baby, don’t cry. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

MC tries to stifle her sob but fails

She’s afraid, so afraid…afraid that she’d lose him for good this time

Yes, she agreed last year that this is the best for them…that being apart would be best

Because he knew his job would constantly put her in danger

And she knew staying by his side would make him vulnerable, give him a weakness, something he would drop all his weapons and defenses for

So even if they loved each other…they decided that staying far away from the other will keep them safe

Alive

Even if deep down, they’re both fucking breaking, every part of their soul screaming for the other half

And every night, she has a hard time sleeping, thoughts of where he was and whether he’s safe or alive haunting her

“MC…”

Vanderwood tilts her head up, so that she’s looking at him

At those beautiful brown eyes

And then she’s closing her eyes as his lips capture hers, a long overdue kiss between two lovers

Their kiss started slow…as though they’re both scared

Tentative

But then his arm goes around her waist and she’s pulling him closer

A fiery need consuming them as their kiss intensified

A reunion of souls

Their kiss doesn’t last long

All too soon, they are pulling away from each other

All too soon, he’s giving her that look —the one that says “I love you, please be safe”

All too soon, he’s running back to the forest, and she’s running back to the cabin

Different paths

But their hearts still beat as one

MC remembers bursting into camp, telling people there’s an emergency, that they needed to evacuate immediately

She doesn’t know how she manages to convince her friends

Maybe they knew MC would never joke about something like this

Maybe it was the frantic, panicked look on her face

But soon, they’re on the road, warning people along the way and making sure they evacuated the area as well

They were far enough now…

Far from him

But MC glances out the window and sees the campsite across the lake

Sees the bright flash of light

Whites, oranges and yellows reflected in her eyes

Before she hears the loud explosion

Her friends are gasping, screaming, shaking

Panicking

And MC is crying

Tears slip unnoticed down her cheeks as she plants her hands against the window

Eyes wide as she watches the area being engulfed in flames

No

Vanderwood

Baby

Their car stops and they’re all climbing out, several people doing the same behind them

Her friends are hugging each other

She slips away from them, walks close to the edge of the roadside

Eyes never leaving the terrifying scene

She doesn’t know if her heart is breaking

Or if it stopped beating altogether

Where are you?

Baby, give me a sign.

Please.

Please.

Her eyes are searching

For what? She doesn’t know

Usually, when Vanderwood had to be away, he would give her signs, leave her traces that he’s okay, that he’ll be home soon

Where’s the sign, baby?

“MC, come on…we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

No. No, he’s not here yet.

He hasn’t given me a sign

He has to let me know he’s okay

“MC?”

Reluctantly, she turns away from the sight and climbs into the car

Praying

Praying that he’ll let her know, one way or the other

That he’s safe

He’s alive

Because living without him has been rough…so damn heart-shattering and painful

But…

Living in a world without him?

I would rather not.

It’s been a week

No letters

No boxes with flowers, or bullet necklaces and keychains, or souvenirs from Italy or Vietnam

No cryptic emails

No shadows following her, no glimpses of a man with brown hair, a cigarette between his lips

There’s no trace of you

No trace of you, Vanderwood

The reports all said it was a gas leak

A cover-up…Vanderwood always said the agency was good at covering their asses

Everything seems so surreal…her friends were telling everyone about their experience, telling the story over and over again but from their point of view

Everyone kept asking her how she knew, though

How MC knew to escape

And she told them what first came to mind: she was taking a walk when she smelled gas in the air

It was stupid

To panic over such a little thing

But everyone ate it up

As long as there’s a story to tell

A 280-character status to post

Vlogs to share

And to be honest, MC was glad and relieved that everyone didn’t pry

Or ask anymore questions

Because her whole being is in turmoil

Broken

As though life itself is being sucked out of her with each passing second that there’s no news from him

She can’t sleep

Eat

She can’t function because seeing that explosion with her own eyes terrified her

Who could ever survive something like that?

Was he able to make it out in time…?

But it’s been a week.

A week

Where are you, baby?

She can’t even focus on her friend, who’s talking right in front of her

Can’t appreciate the bright rays of the sunlight filtering in from the glass windows of the coffee shop

Or the rich smell of the coffee underneath her nose

She’s nodding her head but she hears nothing, feels nothing but fear and dread

Despair and desperation

Her friend rises, to take a call or to go to the washroom —MC isn’t sure

She simply smiles and nods, does what is expected of her

But the moment her friend is gone, her mask drops and she stares into her cup, biting her lip and willing herself not to cry

MC takes deep shuddering breaths and grips the cup

When her phone buzzes on the table

She takes it and flips to the screen, seeing a new message pop up

When she opens the message, there’s only an icon of an arrow pointing to the left

From an unknown number

She sucks in her breath

Tentatively looks to the left…out the window

She’s scared, scared of what she might see

Scared that this is a lie

But there…

There across the street

A man wearing an oversized hoodie, the hood covering his face

His head bowed

One hand in his pocket, one holding his phone

He’s standing so casually, leaning against the lamp post, that most people walk past him, not paying attention or averting their gazes from a possible troublemaker

But she knows…she knows it’s him

Her love

Her Vanderwood

MC sits up straighter, unable to stop her tears this time

The man slowly lifts his head and meets her eyes

Her smile falters when she sees his face

The cuts on his cheeks, his forehead

His split lip

The bruising under his right eye

She just notices how he’s standing awkwardly, all of the weight on his right leg

God

She wanted to run to him

Hold him and treat all his wounds

But if I do, I’ll risk our safety

But…he needs me.

I need him

But Vanderwood is already shaking his head slightly

Giving her an answer to the battle raging inside her

MC settles back into her seat, trying to relax but not looking away from him

It’s then that one side of his lips quirk up

That trademark smirk making her laugh despite her tears

Vanderwood puts his phone in his pocket and forms his hand into a fist

Putting it against his chest before moving it in a circle two times

“Sorry”

The secret agent points to himself before tapping his wrist with his other hand

“I’m late”

Their own version of signs

His way of apologizing to her

MC shakes her head, covering her mouth with her hands and resting her elbows on the table

Her heart is beating too hard against her chest

Letting her know it’s awake again

That it’s beating

Because his heart is still beating too

He is alive

He is alive and he is smiling at her, looking at her with so much love in his eyes that she can’t help but think

Screw the rules

I want to fight the world with you, baby

He’s already straightening

Wincing as he applies a little weight to his other foot, but seeming to get more comfortable with it the more weight he puts

No

Don’t go yet

MC presses her hand against the glass and his gaze returns to her

She puts down her ring and middle finger down, keeping the other fingers out

“I love you”

She sees him chuckle under his breath

MC expects him to return the gesture, like he always does

But this time, he raises his hand, the one that was in his pocket

Holds his fingers up, the back of his hand facing her

Something glints on his finger

And God, the tears are definitely not stopping now

Because on his ring finger…

Is the ring that matches the one she’s wearing on her neck

The ring he never wears because it’s too dangerous

Because he never wants to put her in danger

The ring she always keeps close to her heart, by putting it on a chain and wearing it around her neck every single second of every day

MC tries to wipe away the tears on her cheeks but she can’t stop crying

The other guests must think she’s crazy but she doesn’t care

Vanderwood is laughing outside

Jerk

But she’s laughing too

A simple moment of joy

Of happiness

Celebrating their love

Celebrating each other

Vanderwood puts down his middle and ring fingers too, telling her he loved her

Before he puts his hands in his pockets, walking away slowly, disappearing into the crowd of people

She watches him until she couldn’t see him anymore

And MC sighs

Because here they are again

Their paths taking them away from each other

But the string tying them together still strong

Still whole

And she knows…

She knows she will always wait for him

Always wait for him to come home

“MC? Oh my God, why are you crying? Is everything okay?”

MC nods while continuously swiping at her cheeks

“Yes.”

“Yes…everything’s going to be okay.”

Did you like it? :D <3 Let me know what you think! :D

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3

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Also please check out my IG, reithedreamer, for an upcoming original story with @rossyele! <3 :D Thanks guys!

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

In and out (Part 1.) (Nathan Drake x Male reader)

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don't go so easily as they should. Well, isn't that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?

@bechobbi , let me know if I should tag you in this! :)

A/N: So okay. Let me establish some things before we even begin.

I hate changing the game's/movie's official canons, so you gave me a proper hard time, darling.

So this is a bit AU like they'll happen events from the original game, but most probably NOT in the original order/how did they really happened.

But yeah, I think that my Nate Mate might be bisexual. He's not strictly gay, bc of Elena and Chloe and you can't deny that.

I will also use my old oc pal Florence, who has some posts somewhere in the hellhole of my Tumblr, for my own satisfaction and someone to make the goofball of. A lot of you maybe will not like who she is in this, but guess what - I don't care baby.

This will be written in the third person because I think it suits the story better, just as Golden's book showed us.

And also my adoration of Victor Sullivan will probably show too much. I don't care. He's my man.

Ok. That's all.

Warnings: Just Nate and Sully being the comedic duo we know and love. Also, the first three to four chapters are an establishment for the whole story.

Word count: 2 691 (+/-)

"Real “greatness” is what you do with the hand you're dealt." 

- Victor Sullivan, Drake's Deception

"Oh crap!" The man yelled as another shot was fired at him. He almost got shot, but he managed to hide quickly before that happened. No one knew how he was able to do so, but he guessed that he has an infinite amount of luck.

But even he got enough of everything at that point - he had to escape in front some black bullshit, which was actually afraid of fire, with a dying torch, almost died during that, the worst bad guy Talbot, who was working for their concurrent Katherine Marlowe, had stolen the amulet right from his hand and he was pinned down at gunpoint behind a stupid wall at some mansion in France. The only thing that kept his spirits up was that he managed to draw the amulet to his small notebook and that he wasn't completely clueless after all.

"Better watch your back before you get shot, kid!" A visibly older man shouted at him before he shot back from his revolver. Nathan owned his life to that man for an unfair amount of times, but he would be definitely dead if that man wasn't watching over him.

The old man's name was Victor Sullivan, whom everyone called Sully, and he had some serious amount of kicking ass behind him. He was notoriously known treasure hunter and an ex-marine who dedicated his talent for shady businesses to make a serious life-lasting job out of it. He became a treasure hunter in his late twenties and he was one of the most dedicated people to this kind of life you could ever meet.

He could sometimes seem like a cold blood jerk and Nathan sometimes thought that his decisions are not logical - and usually later showed that those decisions were very clever in fact. Sullivan, even in his sixties didn't show any sign of aging except few deep wrinkles and white hair. The only other fact you could consider was his Cuban shirts, but that man wore them for years, so you couldn't really count them in.

His partner, a lot of younger man in his best years, has been doing this job alongside Sully for almost twenty years. They became a truly coordinated team during that time, more like father and son than friends.

That man's name was Nathan Drake. He was a self-declared ascendant of the famous pirate Sir Francis Drake, whom he dedicated his whole. He was considerably pretty handsome with his wild, dark brown hair and eyes which sometimes seem to be blue and sometimes they looked almost green - so he usually tried to charm off the situations. And oh boy, wasn't he the goofiest man you'll ever meet?

Right now, they both went on a search for something great and most probably greater than great. Their adventure lures them into London and France to get the clues they needed and it almost cost their life a few times. And as it usually went, they weren't the only one who was after the treasure. And the outcome usually looked like this - a big loud shootout between Nathan, Sully and "the bad guys", as he called them.

Being a bad guy also truly depended on a point of view in Nathan's world, none of them was only white or only black, everyone had some motivations and some vision because of what they actually did that thing. Some of them wanted glory, some of them wanted money and there were even some of them that went into the fight just because they actually liked to fight. Nathan didn't judge, he didn't care in fact. Everyone in these shady businesses was partly black and partly white, so everyone was grey in the end.

Even Sully and Nathan were pretty grey. Nathan was in the business because of discovering the truth about the past, and yeah, he did that for the glory. And Sully? He went in for the money. There was actually a lot of money in that shady business, more than you would expect.

This world was just too big, it had many sides and nothing was only good or only bad, partially fucked up was maybe the best possible definition when everything went well. And now it didn't go well, oh boy, something went terribly wrong and Sully with Nathan was actually pinned at a gunpoint. They couldn't even move without increasing the chance of being shot right in the ass.

"It looks like they aren't exactly pleased to see us, Sully." Nathan looked at his older friend and throw a grenade in the direction of bad guys. "Haven't you done anything to them?"

"I'm only an old man Nathan. They are more afraid of you than they are afraid of me." Sully laughed with his raspy voice and shot again. And even though he was so much older, he didn't miss his target.

"It's getting ridiculous!" Nathan yelled to the bad guys with his teeth clenched together in almost hurting way. He slowly managed to sneak out of his hideout near Sullivan. Nathan has got enough, he just wanted to cut the chase and get directly to the climax. "Why don't you let us just pass without this theatrics?!" Nathan stuck out his wooden pillar which was getting a ridiculous amount of shots at that point. Big pieces of walls were flying around his head, there were, in fact, huge piles of it everywhere and that place was actually going to fall down in any minute. "You're ruining an archeological goldmine here and you don't even mind it, assholes!"

"Way to go, kiddo, they'll definitely listen to that!" Sully walked forward too and pointed his gun on another of those asshats. Drake had to stay low if he didn't want to die there. He went through serious loads of punches to the face kicks to the stomach, so handling a few of jerks wasn't really a problem for him. So he ran straight to the action, jumping at one man’s back, using him as a shield. But it didn't go as well as Drake planned. Another man hit him with his gun to the temple of his head and Nathan fell down to the dust as another ten men circled around them. He was trapped. 

If anything, Drake served as a great sidetrack of attention for Sully, who started to quietly put man after man down, getting to Nathan the fastest way he could, using literally anything. Even a pile of dust was great to blind the enemy. And as a bonus, he was tall and pretty heavy, so he was great at hand to hand combat.

But there was something, that didn't add up there. There was so a little of the men when they were in such a big mansion. But Nathan didn't exactly think of that that intensely when he had a gun pointed directly into his face.

Sullivan almost didn’t make it so save Nathan’s ass that time. They almost shot Nate to the head when Sully finally managed to get to him and Nate had to give him a grateful look with a small smile.

“You’re alright?” Sully helped Nathan to get on his feet and patted on his shoulder with the intention to clean him from the dust.

"Maybe shocked, but all right." Nate agreed and looked at Sullivan, making his way to touch his bum. The notebook was still there and he longly exhaled. That was the only reason why they got into the fight, after all. And when it was safe in his arms, he just felt relieved.

"You did pretty well, I would say." Sully looked around on that completely destroyed place. That mansion was completely ruined, it was a disaster.

So they slowly and quietly walked out of the room, slow and carefully and not to be seen or heard. It was a long walk through an abandoned sample of mankind's crafting talent standing up in the middle of nowhere in France.

Both of them stopped at a sort of balcony which was created from molded wood that was just corrupted by the time. When they heard voices and steps, both of them shut up and crouched behind semi-broken brick walls. Nathan stuck out his head and tried to find out what's even happening.

"Empty those cans!" They heard a husky voice with a slight feel of the British accent. "Every last drop." The voice said again and Nathan with Sully just looked at each other.

"What the hell are they doing?" Nathan asked. Confusion and a sort of fear could be heard in his voice. Sully had a suspicion, but he didn't say anything out loud because of the fear it could be the truth.

"Hey Sully," Nate smelled the air and frowned. He looked around them and he just figured out that there is something that doesn't add up. There was so little of Marlowe's men, they were just trying to leave that place as soon as possible when Nathan, who had Drake's map in his notebook, was still inside of that building. Normally they would try to chase out the soul out of Nate and Sully. "Can you smell that too?"

Sully breathed the air deeply, looking into Nate's frowned face. He knew that smell very well. "Of course I do know that smell. It smells like,"

"FIRE!" Nathan shouted at the sudden realization, hearing another of the men shout Torch the place down!

"Sully we gotta get out of here," Nathan stated, extending for his gun. At the moment, some of the men noticed them and they started to shoot at them, mostly at Nathan. Drake and Sully didn't have a hard time shooting back, because Sully showed off his shooting skills again.

There wasn't even place for jokes at that time - Nathan felt his heart pounding hard in his chest. He didn't want to burn alive. He kinda liked himself too much for just burning alive. And Sully had someone who would kill Drake once more if he was hurt by his side, that was another reason he had to get sure that both of them manage to escape from that building.

"Ok Nate, go first, I'll cover your back." Sully patted Nathan's shoulder and loaded the revolver up again. Nathan wasn't completely sure about Sully's judgment, but he nodded and started to find a way out, or more like climbing out of the situation.

"Sully shoot 'em down!" Nate shouted over his shoulder with a furious look. Then he jumped over the beam he was hanging on and started finding some soft spots to climb. Sully followed him carefully and even managed to shoot someone down.

Everything went as usual - they almost died like twenty times, punched and shot on some bad guys and Sully had some seriously interesting curse words on his lips. What house was falling down at the speed of the light, which was caused by the old wood which caught on fire easier than normal wood.

They entered some halls which were completely red because of the consuming it without any problem, almost killing them by the pieces of beams falling down. But the worst ones were the staircases which didn't even hold together, there was no chance that they could climb them and yet they had to.

Sully saved Nathan a couple of times just as Nathan did saving him from falling down to the hell made of fire. They actually somehow, don't ask Nathan how because he doesn't know, managed to get to the rooftop and get out of that collapsing building.

Sully practically collapsed on a log there, fighting for every gasp of air he could get. Nathan did too, but he managed to pull back together faster than Sully.

"Here Sully," he offered him help with standing up, but Sully shooked his head and a disapproval gesture.

"Just gimme a sec. You always seem to forget that I have twenty-five years up on ya." Sullivan looked at Nate with frown and Nathan suspect which turn is this conversation about to turn. And oh boy, he wasn't fond of it.

"Oh come on Sully, you're strong as an ox." Nate put his hands on his sides and laughed uneasily at Sully's direction.

"Anyway, what's the hurry? They think we're in that." Sully pointed at the burning mansion and looked at Nate with a serious look. And they were on the path of that speech again.

"We almost were," Nate whispered, looking at the collapsing building again.

"I gotta say I'm losing the point here," Sully admitted with his look directed to Nathan's back. "Remind me again, why are we doing this?"

"No, no, no, no, no. If you're gearing up for one of those "I'm too old for this" speeches, spare me." Nathan turned around and looked Sullivan directly to the face. Sully had his age, he truly did, but that doesn't mean that he'll stop, at least for him.

Victor loved and lived for this kind of life without the option of woking up the next day safe and sound. He loved having adrenaline in his veins, that satisfaction when he shot one of those asshats down. He lived for this and Nathan knew that. And giving Nate speeches about how old he is and feels was his favorite way of torturing Nate.

"Nate these guys are playing for keeps."

"Yeah, so? What? You're just goin' to roll over for 'em now?" Nathan almost shouted with an unbelieving look on his face. If Sully thought about chickening out of this gig, it was already too late.

"Nobody's talking about rolling over," Sully answered in a calming voice. But Nathan was already too angry to calm down instantly.

"Then quit acting like you're ready to lie down and die, all right?" Nathan asked Sully with a frown on his face. He wasn't enjoying that conversation at all.

"Listen, kid. I've your back for twenty years. I'm not going anywhere, obviously. I just wanna make sure we're doing this for the right reasons. You've got your pride all tangled up in this thing. It's making you reckless." Sully stated and Nathan had to turn around to not giving Sullivan other shots.

Victor was right in everything he said and Nathan knew that. But he also knew that it was his life and his pride to discover the legacy of his ancestor. It wasn't the right of some blonde lady who looked like she's about to turn into dust in any minute. And Nate wasn't planning to give up any minute.

"I taught you better than that. Gonna get yourself killed." Sully finally got up and slowly went to Nate. "Damn. Hell, probably get us all killed." Sully slowly cleaned himself from the dust and stood up, putting his hands on his sides and shook his head.

"Oh, no..." Nate whispered and his eyes widened in the realization.

"What?" Sully asked while Nathan turned at him.

"Cutter and Chloe." Nathan reminded him and Sully's heart almost stopped too.

"Sully if we were followed, chances are they were too."

"Oh shit," Sully whispered and knew what is Nate trying to say. "We gotta warm them."

"Yeah, and get to Syria fast." Nate agreed and the moments Sully looked like he just saw a ghost. He could see the fear in his eyes and him gasping for air.

"And what about her?" Sully realized slowly that she was in danger too. Nathan took Sully's shoulder to his hand and shook him in a calming way.

"Sully, she would definitely kick those assholes into one small ball if they tried to hurt her in any way. Don't worry." Nathan promised him in low voice and Sully looked little relieved. Nathan was sure that she would be ok.

That person was Sully's soft spot and his only other two soft spots were his ailments (like his cigars and airplanes or money) and Nathan's life.

"Sure hope you remember where we left the car, 'cause I've completely turned around," Sully exclaimed as they walked from the mansion at a fast pace.

[chroma-asks]

Out-of-Context Chroma System Quotes

(Good luck guessing who said what if you don’t already actively know)

-Motherfuckin’ Spaghetti-O rectum

-Candied baboon ass

-You wouldn’t happen to have a blow torch, would you? (Followed by) The fuck do I look like, an inventor?

-Would you care for some hot grapes…?

-Pls don’t snu-snu the puppet

-Carbonara bananas

-A meme cowboy who says “Yeetthot”

-What if we had an alter named Bacon

-Skyward Sword isn’t bad, it’s just that the boy’s nose is stupid

-Weiss needs more buttcheeks to fill in for her many assholes

-You ever sit and think that battering rams were probably actually designed to look like dicks but history books didn’t like that?

-Fuck me vibrating spider

-It has a daddy kink and hit on Cthulhu, I’m gonna call it what I want

-I put the romance in ‘necromance’

-Go eat Donald Trump’s toenail clippings

-If you say ‘hachacha’ one more time I’m ripping off your dumb nose to put ice cream into

-Hail the Irish, bitch.

-Yes, please don’t ruffle my onesie, it’s Gucci.

-Stop eating all the orange flavored candies you pathetic weenie

-That’s like eating a burrito on Taco Tuesdays

-How are you doing that you have no pupils

-So If Orion walks around without a shirt, he’s completely naked

-You know your house has thin walls when you can hear grandma farting in the bathroom

-So the plural for tooth is teeth like foot with feet. So why isn’t the plural for boot…. beet?

-Gwen puts the “tit” in “competition”

-(in reference to the crusades)Ye Olde Mosh Pit

-Considering Damon’s been harkin’ Harold’s balls all week, I’d assume the latter

-We’re going on the road to El Dorito

-61 vagànias

-What’s this, the Cryptid Lottery?

-That’s it, I’m calling CPS…….Clown Protective Services

-They are seriously playing Blurred Lines in this old people dance club

-Make your ballet shoes 99.9% better by installing syringes filled with chemo in the back

-Black holes are like the Cotton Eye Joe of space. Where do they come from and where do they go

-Wouldn’t it suck if hurricanes and tornadoes were 96% gas?

-Imagine if Vague’s name was pronounced “vagoo”

-PAKA YOU CANNOT NICKNAME JELOSE “JELLO HENTAI” I SWEAR TO GOD

-Anything is mayonnaise when you put your mind to it

-Hhhhhh smells like gonorrhea

-So wait if YOU’RE me, and I’M me, then who’s piloting the flesh jaeger???

-It’s Meat Time™️

-I dance like a freshly peeled lizard

-If I punch a blunt out of someone’s mouth does that make me a weed-whacker?

-“If we get mistaken for an anime enough do you think somebody out there might write an Mpreg fanfic about Damon” “Dear god I hope not”

-I am become symbiote

-If Naraku can also spin webs can he knit a sweater too????

-REPTILES ARE ASLEEP DO ALL THE THINGS NOW

-Beans beans the good for your heart, the more you eat the more you…… love your girlfriend

-Silence you lesser potato

-So I know beefcake is supposed to refer to really muscly dudes but what is it actually like is it a cake made entirely out of beef or is it a cake shaped like a beef

-My love for cheese is canon

-TASTEY MAN

-That really peels my grapes

-Mom said it’s my turn on the flesh jaeger

-Fish-slapping has an entirely new meaning when it’s Damon and Mero going on a date

-Hello would you like to purchase some salmonella

-You must add the phlegm

-Please don’t put your dick in the Christmas water

-The fuck is a ceviche

-By process of elimination…. you are a bitch.

-You are the Mac to my cheese

-It’s the cloaca.

-SOMEBODY HELP TORY’S BEEN HIT WITH SEXY BITCH DISEASE

-Hey just poppin’ in to let you know the Bethesda thing is happening again, k thanks I love u

-Because stabby stabby blood freezy

-sumfin smlel liek toileeeeeeet

-do you want the beesing phuckchurger or not

-I vote we get a pole cause I wanna be the Lord of the Dance 2, Stripper Edition

-don’t forget to water your Satan

-funky funky chunky chunky, monkey butter pet a bee, beep beep sheep sheep, I’m a baby don’t bite me

-No you absolutely canNOT name my theme “Icy London Icy France”

-What is a serial killer but a humble door-to-door death salesman?

-“Deep-fried for your pleasure” “Only the finest of dildas for our resident slut~”

-Take me down to the paradise city where the cows are green and the grass has tiddy

-“An all nutter” you mean a bukkake

-They gonna make us eat at home like some dirty commoner???

-What was that one Disney movie? Humpback of Notre Dame?

-There is no Iceland, only California 2, Electric Boogaloo

-What if the Earth wasn’t actually rotating, it’s all just water currents pushing the continents at a steady pace

-“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s gasoline”“what the fuck”

-What am I, a BDSM version of a Tickle Me Elmo?

-Fanmade STDs

-Naraku, or as I like to call him; Prime Minister of Sluttington

-Take my gratitude and shove it up your ass

-The inside doctor listens to your insides, the outside doctor listens to your outsides because he forgot to use anesthetics

-Like and subscribe to die instantly

-Have you accepted Beefus as your lord and savior

-Go eat one(1) entire lettuce you fuck.

-up the shut slut

-Where there’s a will, there’s a gay

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN POODLES AREN’T A TYPE OF SHEEPDOG?? THEY’RE THE SHEEPIEST LOOKING MOTHERFUCKERS OF THE DOG WORLD

-I don't know if I wanna do the smashing or the mowing. Either way, your ass is grass

-Treat him gently, he’s just a meatball

-I refuse to believe I know big words