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ichorai · 1 year

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broken machine ; miles morales.

track four of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; miles morales x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; stuck in a time loop, miles had to witness the one thing that he dreaded the most in life over and over again: your death.

words ; 5.1k

themes ; angst, action, mild fluff, mutant au, time loop au, established relationship au

warnings / includes ; repeated major character death, descriptions of injury/blood, cursing, two brief mentions of sex, wolverine & omega red & doctor strange cameos, mentions of x-men & daredevil & wong, set in an alternature universe from the mcu, miles throws up at one point, one (1) reference to spider-man: nwh wink wonk, miles' parents are adorable and i love them

main masterlist.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE ONE.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession.

“Miles,” barked his dad. “Up and at ‘em, kid!”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Miles groaned into his pillow, propping himself up with his elbow and glaring at the closed door.

Outside, a car honked. A plump pigeon hooted by his windowsill. The sun beamed directly into his narrowed eyes.

With a muffled yawn, Miles swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could smell his mom making breakfast quesadillas from the kitchen.

The day droned on like any other. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, shrugged on the same black hoodie he wore yesterday, snatched a quesadilla from the plate—nearly burning his fingers in doing so, much to his mom’s dismay, and kissed her cheek apologetically when she scolded him for not taking out the trash like she’d asked the day before. His dad was scarfing down the steaming quesadillas by the small kitchen table, eyes scanning over the day’s newspaper.

“All these so-called ‘heroes’… and yet crime rates are as high as ever. What a joke.” Jefferson pulled a scowl, reading on about the newest debacle with X-Men and mutants in court.

Miles could feel his stomach twist at his dad’s words, but he pushed it down.

“Miles, come sit down and eat,” said his mom, urging him to the table.

With an apologetic grimace, Miles replied, “Sorry, ma, I gotta meet Y/N at the diner—I promised breakfast with them today. I’ll be back before dinner, okay?”

“Alright, mijo. I want you back before the sun sets—I don’t want you out and about during the night now,” she huffed, straightening the lopsided collar of his hoodie. “Tell Y/N I said hi. Remember what I told you, Miles—use protection. And don’t forget to take out the trash!”

“Okay, okay, Jeez, mom!” blurted Miles, clearly flustered at the prospect of his mom giving him yet another sex talk. He was already pulling on his shoes and waving goodbye to his dad, who muffled out something unintelligible around a mouthful of his breakfast. Just before he was about to stride out, he remembered to grab the bags of trash and toss them into the bins outside, before hurrying down the street to the diner.

Knowing you, you were probably already waiting at the diner, halfway done with your milkshake.

Correction, you were well into your second milkshake by the time Miles jogged in.

“You’re late,” you told him, a fond smile on your face. “I ordered for you.”

“Bacon cheeseburger with a side of curly fries? Lemonade with extra ice?” Miles asked, sliding into the seat across from you, the sticky red leather of the booth making him grimace.

You cocked your head at him. “Yup. Extra ketchup on the side, too.”

“See, that’s just telling me we spend too much time together,” said Miles, affectionately kicking at your feet beneath the table.

Scoffing, you popped a curly fry into your mouth. “You wouldn’t last two seconds without me.”

Before Miles could fit in a scathing remark, a loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Both you and Miles exchanged worried glances, peering out of the window to see civilians frantically running down the street.

“Got your suit?” you asked quietly. You had yours on underneath your sweater already, since you had planned to go training with Daredevil after breakfast.

Miles bobbed his head, the light-hearted atmosphere disappearing in an instant. “In my bag. I’ll meet you there?”

You nodded. “I don’t know what it could be this time—whatever it is, it doesn’t look pretty. Stay safe, Miles.”

With that, you slid out of your booth, planting a quick kiss to his cheek, before dashing out of the restaurant, running against the current of the panicked crowd. Squaring his jaw, Miles darted into the diner’s bathroom, hurriedly changing into the suit May Parker had gifted him, and hopped right out the small, rectangular window.

The fight was about two blocks from the diner. He swung down onto a streetlamp, eyes widening when he caught sight of a bloodied Wolverine pinned against the asphalt—Omega Red not too far from him, his carbonadium coils wrapped around Logan’s biceps and neck.

Wolverine let out a growl, his adamantium claws slashing out, but not long enough to reach his attacker.

Miles shot a web out to get closer. Though he wasn’t all that close to the infamous Wolverine, Miles knew he was a halfway decent guy, and deserved a bit of help.

Mid-air, he blasted web fluid straight into Omega Red’s eyes, blinding him momentarily. Furious, the large man roared out an expletive, letting go of Wolverine in shock and scratching the sticky webs away from his face with one fluid motion, before rounding his angry crimson gaze at Miles. One of the metal tentacles shot out in his direction, but before it could reach him, you came barreling forward out of nowhere, a purple blade of energy stemming from your clenched fist.

“No, kid, wait—!” gruffed Wolverine, a warning about Omega’s death spores just on the tip of his tongue.

It was too late.

Omega Red chuckled darkly as your blade of energy sunk into his abdomen with a sickly squelch. To Miles’ horror, he seemed practically unfazed by this. You snarled up at him when he wrapped one of his burly hands around your neck, the other coming up to lay over your skull. Miles scrambled forward, shouting your name, but Wolverine held him away, frantically telling him to stay back—something about deadly pheromones.

But Miles wasn’t listening. All he could see was you, and the final second of your expression shifting from determined rage, to raw fear.

A misty fog began surrounding Omega Red—his death spores. Your eyelids fluttered and you fell limp in his grasp. He was feeding off of your life energy.

A sick crack of bone as he effortlessly crushed your head in his palm.

A raw, blood-curdling scream tore from Miles’ lungs.

Wolverine wouldn't let him go.

And then, it all went black.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE TWO.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession.

“Miles,” the muffled voice of his dad drifted from beneath the doorway. “Up and at ‘em, kid!”

Outside, a car honked. A plump pigeon hooted by his windowsill. The sun beamed directly into his narrowed eyes.

He immediately sat up on his bed, breathing heavy and labored. A tear fell down his cheek and Miles hurriedly wiped it away with the back of his palm.

“What the…?” he muttered beneath his breath, glancing at his phone to see that it was November seventh.

Huh. So it must’ve all been a dream. Wolverine, that weird metal-tentacle dude, you dying…

It was all a dream.

Huffing out a sigh of relief, Miles swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could smell his mom making breakfast quesadillas from the kitchen. Funny, his dream-mom had made quesadillas as well.

“Miles, I told you to take out the trash!” she scolded, crossing her arms expectantly.

For a second, Miles froze. This was… eerily similar to his dream.

Realizing that he had yet to reply, Miles hastily choked out, “Sorry, ma. I’ll take it out when I leave.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Diner. Meeting Y/N there for breakfast,” Miles responded. “I’ll be back before dinner, okay?”

From the small kitchen table, his dad glanced away from the day’s newspaper. “All these so-called ‘heroes’… and yet crime rates are as high as ever. What a joke.” Jefferson pulled a scowl, before reading on about the newest debacle with X-Men and mutants in court.

Huh. Miles could swear his dad said the exact same thing in his dream…

“Alright, mijo. I want you back before the sun sets—I don’t want you out and about during the night now,” she huffed, coming forward to straighten the lopsided collar of his hoodie. “Tell Y/N I said hi. Remember what I told you, Miles—use protection. And don’t forget to take out the trash!”

“Alright, alright, Jeez, mom!” blurted Miles, flustered at the prospect of his mom giving him yet another sex talk. He was already pulling on his shoes and waving goodbye to his dad, who muffled out something unintelligible around a mouthful of his breakfast. Just before he was about to stride out, he remembered to grab the bags of trash and toss them into the bins outside, before hurrying down the street to the diner.

“You’re late,” you told him, a fond smile on your face. Cupped in your hands was your second milkshake, already half-empty. “I ordered for you.”

“Thanks,” said Miles as he slid into the seat across from you, the sticky red leather of the booth making him grimace. “Hey, something really weird happened this morning. It’s like—deja vu, but in my dream? Like everything I saw in my dream felt weirdly real and then when I woke up, the exact same things started to happen—”

Before he could continue explaining, a loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Both you and Miles exchanged worried glances, peering out of the window to see civilians frantically running.

This happened in my dream! thought Miles. Unless… unless it wasn’t a dream…

“Got your suit?” you asked quietly. You had yours on underneath your sweater already, since you had planned to go training with Daredevil after breakfast.

Miles opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

You blinked at him, miffed. “Miles? We gotta go help them.”

Head feeling stuffed full with cotton, Miles bobbed his head hesitantly. “It’s, uh, it’s in my bag. I’ll meet you there?”

You nodded. “I don’t know what it could be this time—whatever it is, it doesn’t look pretty. Stay safe, Miles.”

With that, you slid out of your booth, planting a quick kiss to his cheek, before dashing out of the restaurant before he could even begin to think to stop you, running against the current of the panicked crowd. Squaring his jaw, Miles blew out a deep exhale and ran into the diner’s bathroom, hurriedly changing into the suit May Parker had gifted him, and hopped right out the small, rectangular window.

As soon as Miles saw Wolverine and Omega Red a couple blocks down the diner, he knew whatever he had seen in his quote-unquote ‘dream’ hadn’t actually been a dream. Maybe he was in an alternate dimension? Or could it have been time travel of some sorts?

Whatever it was, Miles had to find you.

He swung down onto the road, ready to stop you from getting too close to Omega Red. Swiftly, he shot out web fluid straight into Omega Red’s eyes, blinding him momentarily. Furious, the large man roared out an expletive, letting go of Wolverine in shock and scratching the sticky webs away from his face with one fluid motion, before rounding his angry crimson gaze at Miles.

One of the metal tentacles shot out in his direction, but before it could reach him, you came barreling forward out of nowhere, a purple blade of energy stemming from your clenched fist.

“No, kid, wait—!” gruffed Wolverine, a warning about Omega’s death spores just on the tip of his tongue.

Prepared, Miles pushed you out of the way, frantically yelling out, “Stay back, he’s got killer pheromones!”

But it was too late.

The long, spindly carbonadium cords darted forward and snaked around both of your ankles, sweeping you off your feet and dangling you upside down in a matter of seconds. Desperately, you tried to hack away at the metal with your energy blades. The determined snarl on your face began to wane into one of fear when it proved to be fruitless.

Omega Red grinned manically, eyeing you like a wolf would a hare.

A misty fog began surrounding Omega Red—his death spores. Your eyelids fluttered and you fell limp in his grasp. He was feeding off of your life energy.

Miles yelled out your name, but Wolverine held him back, telling him it was for his own safety.

“They’re long gone, kid,” the X-Man gruffed, grip unrelenting. “I’m sorry.”

A raw, blood-curdling scream tore from Miles’ lungs.

“Let me go!” he cried. It wasn’t a dream. None of this was a dream—it couldn’t be.

Wolverine wouldn't let him go, no matter how much Miles struggled.

And then, it all went black.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE THREE.

Three knocks to his door, in rapid succession.

“Miles,” said his dad from the other side of the closed door. “Up and at ‘em, kid!”

He shot up from the bed, breathing ragged.

Miles swiped at his watery eyes, burying his face into his palms. If that hadn’t been a dream… what was it?

Car honk. Pigeon hoot. The sun beamed directly into his tired eyes. Right. This was the third time he’d lived through today. He must’ve been stuck in a time loop of some sorts.

But how was he supposed to get out?

Swallowing heavily, Miles slipped out of bed, changing out of his pajamas, and got ready for the day. He had to get to the diner.

The mouth-watering aroma of his mom’s quesadillas wafted from the kitchen.

“Miles, come have breakfast!” she called out just as she noticed Miles pulling on his shoes, tilting her head. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Out. Diner. Y/N,” said Miles, rushing. “Sorry, ma. I’ll be back soon!”

“Wait—!” she exclaimed, but he was already dashing out the door and sprinting down the block.

You were just starting on your second milkshake, brows raising when Miles stumbled into the diner, nearly ripping the door off its hinges in his haste.

“Hey, you’re not late for once!” you proclaimed, clearly amused at his haggard state. But your humored expression melted away when you saw that Miles was in no smiling mood. “What’s going on? God, Miles, you need to sit down.”

Blowing out a breath, Miles slid into the booth and began to explain. It was a terrible explanation, one that made no sense at all—but Miles was desperate and clearly not thinking straight.

“Right, so, I’ve been living today for the past two days. And I’ve seen you die before—twice! I wake up every time you die. It must be like, uh, like—”

“Miles,” you said, brows furrowed. “I’m so confused right now. You’ve seen me die? Like… like a vision or something?”

“No! Uhm, yes? Wait, no, I don’t think so, at least. I—”

Before he could finish, the loud crashing resounded from far outside the diner, followed by distant screams. Your concern skyrocketed, and you glanced out the window to see what was going on. Miles pulled at the skin of his face, frustrated.

Civilians were screaming and running every which way like headless chickens. A woman with a baby stroller tripped over the curb and you sprang up to your feet, immediately breaking out of the diner to help her.

“Y/N, wait, you can’t go—!” exclaimed Miles, rushing out after you.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled under your breath as the both of you caught sight of Omega Red and Wolverine barreling down the street in their altercation.

With no time to change into your suit, you clenched your fist, purple energy blade crackling to life around your skin, mildly burning at the cuffs of your hoodie sleeves.

“No, Y/N, listen to me, you can’t go, you’ll die!” Miles exclaimed, grabbing your forearm to stop you.

Rounding on him with a heated gaze, you shook your head. “Miles, hundreds of people are going to die! That’s Omega Red. He can kill anyone in a close vicinity. I can’t just stand back and let him do it. I need to go help Logan.”

With that, you shoved away from him, leaving Miles to stumble after you. He cursed under his breath, shooting out his webs to swing after you.

Omega Red caught sight of the both of you from afar, the red of his eyes gleaming hungrily.

The carbonadium tentacles curled around Miles first, crushing his lungs until he struggled to breath and black dots danced about his vision. He could only helplessly watch as you dived down and slashed at his legs, but were dragged out by the other coil, lifting you up by your head as if you were a ragdoll.

To his horror, Omega Red flung you hard across the street. So hard that you crashed clean through the windows of the opposite building, and straight into three consecutive plaster walls after that.

And then everything went dark.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE FOUR.

“Up and at ‘em, kid!”

Car. Pigeon. Sun.

Diner.

This time, Omega Red threw a car at you.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE FIVE.

Quesadilla. Newspaper. Trash.

Diner.

Miles was helplessly pinned to the street as Omega Red used Wolverine’s adamantium claws to slice you to pieces.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE SIX.

Running down the street. Your milkshake spilled all over the diner table. Miles frantically trying to tell you not to go out. He was so tired.

You went out anyway.

Omega Red picked you up and ripped you clean in half with his bare hands.

Bending at the stomach, Miles threw up all over the sidewalk.

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE SEVEN.

Miles didn’t go to the diner this time. He stayed in bed, eyes unblinking and wide, his stomach roiling nauseously.

“Miles!” came the muffled shriek of his mom. “Miles, it’s Y/N!”

Legs trembling, Miles stepped out of his room and slowly shuffled down the hall to see his mom and dad standing in front of the television. Rio’s eyes were quick to water, tears dripping down her cheek at the sight. His dad bowed his head and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

The news was on.

It was you, being recorded on a shaky camera—barely visible behind Omega Red, with his burly hands wrapped around your throat as he squeezed, squeezed, squeezed—

NOVEMBER SEVEN — TAKE EIGHT.

Three quick knocks to his door.

“Up and at ‘em, kid!”

Miles threw himself out of bed just as the car honked. He was so very tired, eyes bloodshot and limbs weary. But he couldn’t give up.

Hastily, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, he ran out of his room after grabbing his web shooters, barely acknowledging his baffled parents. He bolted out the door at lightning speed, using his shooters to hurl himself down the street, to the diner.

People gawked and stared at him with wide eyes. They all gawked and pointed fingers, exclaiming, “Hey, it’s knock-off Spider-Man!”

Miles couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not wasting any time, he barged into the diner, making his way to your booth. Before you could fit in any comments about how he was late, or how he looked like he’d just gotten run over by a bulldozer, he grabbed you by the shoulders, looking you straight in the eye.

“Listen to me. I’ve been stuck in a time loop, watching you die over and over and over again. You cannot leave this diner, Y/N. I’m being serious. Omega Red is going to come rolling down the street any second now—but you can’t help in any way, no matter how much you want to, or you’ll die and it just resets the loop for me. I need to keep you alive. Do you understand?”

With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared at your boyfriend as if he’d gone mad. A part of you thought this was just some elaborate joke—but the longer you looked into his eyes—his tired, weary eyes, the more you could see how sincere he was being. He was telling the truth.

“Time loop… like groundhog day?”

Miles nodded.

“Do you know how to fix it?”

Crestfallen, Miles blew out a shaky breath. “No. Every time you die, the day just resets and I wake up back in my room—your death is basically… inevitable.”

A sick feeling twisted in your gut. Not really at the fact that you were fated to die in this loop, but at the idea of Miles having to watch and relive that over and over again.

“Oh, Miles, I’m so sorry…” you began, unsure of what else to say. Eyes softening, Miles released your shoulders, sliding his hands down your arms to thread his fingers with yours.

A tentative idea sprung forth when your friend and vigilante mentor, Daredevil, once mentioned in passing a certain sorcerer living in New York that specialized in all things time-related.

“I think I might know someone that can help,” you said, squeezing his hands with a hopeful grin.

The Sanctum Sanctorum was a large, spacious building that remained suspiciously clean despite having only two ‘cleaners’ that looked far younger than you—Wong liked to call them apprentices, though. You’d passed by the building before twice—but never actually had any reason to come inside.

For such an important place, you were surprised there weren’t any guards by the door. You and Miles exchanged nervous glances, before stepping in.

Stephen Strange was by the fireplace to the right, nursing a mug of a thick purple liquid. Draped over his shoulders was the infamous red Cloak of Levitation, which seemed to perk upwards in the presence of guests.

“Y/N L/N,” he greeted, narrowing his eyes at you, as if he’d known you were going to come. “Miles Morales—what brings the two of you to the Sanctum Sanctorum?”

How the peculiar sorcerer knew your names, neither of you had a clue.

“Hello, uh… doctor, er, sir—uhm, I’m—I think I might be stuck in a time loop?” Heat flushed over Miles’ face as he stumbled over his words, clearly overwhelmed that he was standing in front of an Avenger.

One of Strange’s eyebrows arched closer to his hairline. “You think?”

Clearing his throat, Miles winced as he replied, “I know I’m in a time loop. I’ve been living the same day over and over again more than half a dozen times.”

The sorcerer tilted his head, free hand coming up to stroke his well-groomed goatee. “Yep… that’s a time loop, alright. I’ve been stuck in one before—nasty thing it is.” The unpleasant memory of Dormammu made a grimace pull his lips thin. With that, he began striding away, leaving the two of you awkwardly standing by the Sanctum's entrance.

After a second, Strange glanced back, rolling his eyes. “Come on, what are you two standing there dilly-dallying for?”

The two of you scampered along behind him, making your way further into the large building. Down a winding staircase you went, one that seemed to go on for ages. You peered over the railings, blanching upon seeing nothing but darkness for as far as the eye could see. Nervous, you reached out for Miles’ hand, which he gladly took.

Once the three of you had arrived by the floor, torches by the walls magically burst aflame, bathing the room in a warm clementine glow.

“Something incredibly wrong must have messed up your stream of reality’s timeline for it to fall back upon itself. Something that isn’t supposed to happen. Usually time loops occur when alternate realities collide into one another, thereby permanently damaging both realities’ time continuum—but it can sometimes happen on its own to prevent incursions from occurring in the first place. Like a safety net of sorts. It’s the universe’s way of giving you a second chance. Or… seven, in your case,” explained Strange, waving his hand in front of the Eye of Agamotto that rested just above his chest. The golden platelets pulled back to reveal a glowing emerald gem—the infamous time stone. Most of what he said had flown right over your head, but you nodded as if you understood anyway. “What is it that resets the loop each time, kid?”

Miles shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly feeling queasy. “Y/N dies,” he mumbled.

The sorcerer’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise.

“Ah,” he said, his usually stoic demeanor melting into one of stiff, uncomfortable sympathy. “My condolences.”

“Thanks—uh, condolences… taken? Received? Yeah,” Miles awkwardly choked out. If it weren’t the dire situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at your boyfriend’s inability to just keep his mouth shut.

A glimmer of amusement danced behind Strange’s irises, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

“Alright, kid, I can fix it for you—just promise not to talk during the spell. You’re not the only person who’s come to me asking to make life-altering changes to the time continuum.”

Neither of you really knew what he was talking about, but you stiffly bobbed your heads up and down nonetheless.

With that, Stephen clapped his hands together, chanting lowly underneath his breath. The time stone began to emit a bright, lime-hued light—one that nearly hurt if you stared directly at it.

And then… it all stopped.

Strange stopped murmuring in his foreign tongue, the stone stopped glowing, and everything felt eerily still.

Confused, Miles asked, “That’s it?”

A ghost of a smile traced the corner of Doctor Strange’s lips. “Yeah, kid. That’s it. It should all be over now—you’ll wake up in the real tomorrow, tomorrow. Now get outta here—before Wong mistakes you guys for his apprentices.”

“Thank you, Doctor Strange. This means the world to us,” you said, genuine gratitude shining through your expression as you squeezed Miles’ hand.

“Yeah, thanks Mr—Doctor—Sir… uh…” Miles began stumbling over his own tongue again, and this time, you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. Strange cracked an actual smile as well, jerking his head towards the staircase.

The two of you began walking back up the steps, a weight settled off both of your chests. Miles more so than you—having to watch you die over and over again had taken a serious toll on him.

In a blink of an eye, the stairs disappeared beneath your feet, and the two of you found yourself right outside the Sanctum. Bewildered, the two of you glanced back, only to see a golden-ringed portal just behind you. Strange saluted with two fingers, raising his mug to slurp at the mysterious mauve sludge within his mug.

The portal closed a second later.

You and Miles stood in a fragile silence for a long moment.

“Miles… what you had to go through… I’m so sorry, it must’ve been a living nightmare. I can’t possibly imagine what that’s like. Are you sure you’re okay? Because I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it,” you whispered, glancing his way. Your expression had softened with raw concern, practically bleeding with affection for the young man beside you.

Instead of answering your question, Miles just shook his head, tightly winding his arms around you and squeezing. His nose rested against the crown of your head as he inhaled the homely scent of your shampoo. After recovering from your initial shock, you returned the embrace, the fabric of his shirt crumpling beneath your grip. His shoulders began to tremble.

“Are you crying?” you asked when he sniffled quietly.

“No,” he replied, voice thick. “Doctor Strange just has… dusty magical carpets, is all.”

A peal of laughter fell from your lips, and you fondly knocked your forehead against his. “Careful now, wouldn’t want Wong to fire his ‘apprentices’ now, would you?”

Miles gave you a watery smile, before pulling away, holding you at arm’s length. “Can you stay with me tonight? I just… I don’t wanna lose you again. I wanna make sure I wake up in the real tomorrow—where you’d still be alive.”

Leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, you gave him a gentle grin. “Sure, Miles. Oh, we can watch the new season of Yellowjackets together!”

“Okay,” Miles said, watching you with a lovesick gaze as the two of you began walking down the street, one that made his dark irises all molten and doe-like. “Anything you want.”

NOVEMBER EIGHT.

Miles’ eyes cracked open blearily. A ray of sun was glaring through his window, shining directly into his face. From outside, he could hear cars honking and the flutter of a pigeons’ wings as it flew away from his windowsill.

Memories of yesterday—or rather—several yesterdays, came rushing to the front of his mind. Immediately, Miles sat up in bed, his foot accidentally knocking against the laptop sitting on top of his blanket.

Initial panic beginning to wane away, Miles looked to his side, relief flooding his veins upon seeing you splayed out on the other end of his bed, cheek smushed into his pillow as you slept. You groggily mumbled something unintelligible at his sudden movement, but slipped back into a peaceful sleep not two seconds later.

You startled back awake when Miles let out a sudden whoop of unrestrained joy, loud enough to alert his parents in the kitchen.

“Ugh, Miles,” you groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “Shut up.”

Wincing, Miles eased back into bed, patting your shoulder while whispering, “Sorry, sorry. Go back to sleep.”

He tugged you close into his side, finding solace in your warmth—a physical reminder that you were real.

This was real.

Miles grinned into your hairline, and clutched you all the closer.

By the time his mom and dad peeked their heads into his room to check that you two were alright, they were not at all surprised to see the kids fast asleep, limbs tangled and softly snoring away, with Miles taking up most of the space while you were squished against the wall.

The door softly shut once more, and Rio casted an amused glance at her husband, who also had the habit of taking up too much space in bed. “Like father, like son.”

Affronted, Jefferson followed after his wife as she strode away, thinking she was talking about his loud unconscious mannerisms (snoring, and, on occasion, talking in his sleep). “What? What do you mean by that? I told you, I don’t snore! Not anymore, at least…”

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everlastlady · 7 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎 '𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

✰ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! My little heroes, villains, and civilians. The first Miguel O 'Hara post. Hopefully it's good, I'm not really good with Spanish so I'm using a translation thing to help me with the language. I do plan on learning Spanish after I finish learning Italian on duo, anyway if you enjoyed this story then my request box is open. You can support me by blazing, commenting, hearts, or reblogging. Don't forget to eat, drink water, and take your medicine. Also support your local fan fiction writers.

✰ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: kidnapping, drugging, manipulation, violence, lies, and stockholm syndrome.

✰ Part 2

• You are an absolute sweetheart to everyone at the society. Always making lunches for those who you were friends with or patching them up from missions. You always put others first, your smile could lit up a room. At first Miguel didn't think much of you, he honestly found you annoying and sometimes would have to tell you and Peter to be quiet whenever you both were trying to make Mayday laugh. " cierra el pico both of you, go do that somewhere else. " so when you and Peter left. Miguel sat there for a while wanting to hear your laugh again but not with Peter around, not with anyone around.

• He loved your cooking, he would tell you that he's only accepting your food out of respect. But he would ever last drop as if he was starving. He wondered what meals you would cook if you two were married, what dishes would you make whenever he came home from working. What lunches would you pack him. Would the kids help you with dinner. Miguel started asking you to bring him lunch everyday saying that he didn't have time to make his own and didn't want to spend money on take out. " Gracias cariño " he likes how your fingers brush against his whenever you hand him the bento box.

• Recently he stopped sending you on missions and is having you help him in the lab or having you in the medical wing to patch up other spiders. You didn't mind but you missed going on missions, and Miguel could tell but he knew soon that you wouldn't miss missions. And he was right, you started to distract yourself by stopping crime in your own universe and hanging out with the other spiders. Miguel didn't like this, what if get hurt in your own universe or worst fall in love. Miguel swore that he heard you talking to Noir and Peter B about this guy from your favorite coffee shop called Steven Grant. How you almost got hurt trying to stop a robbery in your neighborhood. He needed to plan something, it might be painful and hurt him emotionally but he needed to teach you a lesson.

• Boredom was killing you as you sat in the lab and started playing with paper clips but you jumped when Lyla flashes on your watch. " Woah, don't fall over and die (name), I'm blessing you with my presences to tell you that Miguel is sending you out on a mission since everyone else is busy or Miguel thinks they aren't capable. He thinks you can handle it so chop chop get to it! ". With that Lyla vanished. You let out a gleeful noise and put on your mask as you open the portal and jump through. You thought this was going to be fun and easy especially since you been training but you thought wrong. Everything in this universe was wrong; it was all dark and gloomy. Here you are running away like a scared child while bleeding. You suit in had claw marks and tears slide down your face. Crying into your watch for help. You were covered in claw marks, bruises, and your wrist broken.

• No one seemed to be answering their watches when you had Lyla contact Jess, Peter, Gwen Noir, Miles, and Hobie. No one picked up but Miguel did when you screamed for Lyla to call him. And when Miguel showed up he took care of the threat. " ¿Estás bien querida? You had me worried when you didn't return, come on let's get you to the medical wing. " Miguel picked you up, your injuries made you pass out but you could have swore that Miguel was smirking before you shut your eyes.

• You eventually woke up but you weren't in the medical wing, you were in a bedroom and it didn't belong to you. A delicious smell entered your noise and you looked down to see your wrist bandaged. You carefully got out of the bed groaning. Still sore from your injures. You left the bedroom and walk down the hallway and into the kitchen where Miguel stood cooking a delicious meal. He eas wearing a tight black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Miguel turned around and saw your confused look. " Ah! corazon your awake! I brought you here because your injuries were so bad that I decided to treat you, also I didn't want the others to feel bad for not answering you. Good thing I answered you or else you would have been dead, now you know why I don't want to send you on anymore missions, you aren't strong enough which is fine, you were made for better things. " Miguel turned around and went back to cooking. You stood there and looked down, was Miguel right are you weak?

• Miguel had you sit down at table which you did still looking upset. " Now don't pout, until your injuries heal you can stay with me. I'll tell the others that you are on vacation a well deserved vacation. You do so much for everyone and take care of everyone. It's time for someone to take care of you~ " Miguel lifted up the fork to feed you some of the food. A break did sound nice and you could try to mentally recover from what had happened on the mission. So you agreed to stay at Miguel's place until your injuries healed. It wouldn't take that long for you to get better right?

• Wrong..... you always felt so weak and sleepy after every meal, Miguel made for you from breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even small snacks. You body always ached, you threw up, felt dizzy, and tired. Miguel ran some test and told you that you were sick but didn't know what you were suffering from. When you wanted to leave because you didn't want to be a burden. Miguel shook his head telling you that you weren't a burden that he would take care of you and that he didn't mind the company especially after all he lost. That made you feel sad so you stayed. Miguel bought you anything you wanted to make you feel at home, he even brought your clothes and other items from your apartment which felt weird at first because you didn't give anyone your address.

• While Miguel was gone and didn't come home the usual time he did. You were hungry and Miguel always cooked for you. So you wanted to surprise him and cook a meal for him and you. As you were going through the cabinets. You find a strange green bottle with some purple liquid inside. You ask Lyla about it, as she was painting her nails and not looking at you, she said the ingredients along with the side effects. " Not safe for human consumption, why do you ask? " She called out. Your whole body froze, was Miguel drugging you? Did he plan this whole thing to trap you here. You ran towards the bedroom to look for your watch but couldn't find it.

• " Looking for this corazon, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye or even a thank you mi amor for taking care of me... " You turned to see Miguel holding up your watch. Before you could react, Miguel threw it down and stepped on it. The watch broke into pieces. " oops... " Miguel quickly walked towards you and caged you with his body as your back was pressed against the wall. Tears stream down your face, this had to be a nghtmare. " D-Did you drug me, why did you drug me!? Did you send me on that mission knowing what would happen to me!? " You screamed at Miguel. Who stared at you with those red eyes. " Yes... because I needed to teach you a lesson that you are weak and only I can protect you because..... (Name), I love you~ " you flinch when Miguel strokes your cheek and wipes your tears away. " You are sick... " You said in between panic breathes. " I'm not sick, I was doing what was best for you... for us and you'll understand that soon but let's get you calmed down wouldn't want you to pass out again... " Miguel leans foward as you struggled. Miguel bit down sinking his fangs into your soft skin as you scream. But soon your body froze. " Shhh, te quiero. " Miguel laid you on the bed and left the room.

• You stayed trapped in Miguel's home for weeks. He told the others at the society that you quit and didn't want anyone to contact you since you wanted to retire from being a hero and didn't want any reminders or memories of the society. Of course everyone was upset but respected your wishes, if only they knew that truth. Just because you were kind that didn't mean you don't have a fighting spirit. You always fought to escape and tried taking Miguel's watch but he always overpowered you and knocked you got, always yelling his lungs out at you. " 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 fighting me, I'm trying to care for us for you! I don't want to keep fighting you. But you leave me no choice but to do this..... " Those last words from Miguel made your stomach drop. He locked you in a room and only left you a blanket and a mattress. The room had a bathroom but no windows. " I'll let you out when you learn to be a loving partner. " And he left you alone in that dark room. The only time he came back in was to bring you food but said nothing and left.

• Being in that room was driving you crazy and the food wasn't good it was just microwave meals that weren't cooked all the way and the room was cold. You sat there on the mattress crying all day and all night. Screaming for Lyla but she didn't respond because Miguel instructed her not to. After a month you sat there feeling mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. The door opened as the hallway lights burns your eyes. Miguel stood there with his arms out while staring at you, he stood there waiting and you got up. Walking over you hug him tightly. Miguel smirked and hugged back as he planted a kiss on your head. " Have you learned your lesson, do you love me? " He asked while rubbing your back. You nod your head. " Then say it, say you are sorry and that you love me. " Miguel said while hugging you tightly so tight that he could snap you in half. " I'm sorry for being selfish for not appreciating what you do for me, I love you Miguel, please don't send me back into that room, I'll behave, I love you, I love, I love you. " You said in between sobs.

• Miguel smiles and kissed you. " Good, let's go get you properly cleaned up and a good meal~ " Miguel picked you up and did as promised, he gave you a bath, fresh pajamas, and cooked your favourite meal. The two of you even sat on the couch watching your favorite movie. What made Miguel happy was how you cling to him. How whenever he went to the bathroom you would panic and try to follow him. " Don't worry cariño, I'm just going to the bathroom I'll be back watch your movie and be good and I won't put you in the punishment room. " Miguel kissed you and left. That night you laid in bed with him and quickly fell asleep since you were in an actual nice bed. Miguel watched you sleep and was finally happy that you had you.

Part 2 coming soon comment if you wanna be tagged in part 2

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faithshouseofchaos · 6 months

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Hades and Persephone— devil!Max verstappen x reader.

Tagged— @moss-on-tmblr @toasttt11 @omgsuperstarg @otako5811 @hollie911 @sarahedwards16 @venusisnothere @astraeaworld @charlesf1leclerc @harmonity-vibes @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @norrisleclercf1 @reidsworld

Max used to be an angel, not just any angel, an Archangel God's second in command. Who retaliated against the rules that started the rebellion and was cast out of the heaves. As punishment, he was sent down to hell to punish those who deserved it. Max ruled hell for a millennium until he decided to leave. Why should Max stay in hell for the rest of the entity when all he wanted was for humans to have free will, and the power to choose their destiny? It was decided right then that Max would leave.

Max's first night on earth he was walking around the city it looked different from the first night he fell.

Walking around and taking in the sights and sounds he heard something, the sounds of scuffling and screaming. Following it he saw a girl being attacked. Jumping into action Max pulled the attackers off the girl and marked them condemning their souls to hell.

As the months went by Max had gained many different titles. Some called him the Angel of Death, The Grim Reaper, The Black Knight, The Man in Black, and even the Boogeyman. Some knew his real name but they were not supposed to say it. Even in hell, a name was power after all. He heard of demons telling stories of Max to their young to scare them into behaving.

Max used some of his skills from hell to fight crime, one thing that had worried him was being spotted. And so the idea came up to hide his identity. By day Max hid from the world by night he was the crime fighter known as The Black Knight. A name people had feared for centuries. It was like the boogeyman, you don’t dare say the name unless you are willing to die. By the time they knew Max’s real name, he would have vanished into the night and back into legend.

Some feared him, others worshiped him, and some even feared and worshiped him.

Max was not used to being on earth but he soon learned that humans were very unpredictable. He soon became more used to humans, they grew on him. He was still the boogeyman but he did not harm humans anymore. He started to take on the role of a protector and he became a spirit guardian. Max was an angel turned Devil turned Protector.

Max was a protector especially for you he loved how you melted through the cold exterior he had.

You made Max venerable. He remembered the first day he met you. He decided to go on a walk in the city when he came across this little bookstore it was new and piqued his curiosity so he went in.

“Be right there” he’d heard a voice call out from a back room.

When Max saw you for the first time he immediately felt a connection. He was attracted to you. Not physically but emotionally. When he is with you he feels vulnerable. Not that he was used to feeling anything. No one ever made him feel anything. But when he was with you he felt like a child around you. You were the only one he felt safe with and you felt safe with him.

“How can I help you?” You asked the man who stood there in front of the counter staring down at you with his deep blue eyes that had reminded you of the ocean. You couldn’t help but smile at the man.

Max tried to keep his emotions in check. But he couldn't help feeling something in his stomach every time he looked at You. He was attracted to you. You were the only one who did not see him as a monster; he felt a connection with you.

Max tries to speak.

"Uhm, I was wondering if you had any books on Greek mythology"

“I can help you. I loved learning about Greek mythology as a kid. I still do. So just follow me” you said walking around the counter grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him towards your favorite section of your bookstore

Max couldn't fight the feeling about you anymore. He wanted to kiss you. At this point, Max's feelings were becoming too much to keep in check. He didn't want to scare you so he tried to keep his distance. But that feeling in your stomach kept coming back.

“Alright here we are why don’t you take a look through here and see if anything catches your eye” you said

Max felt like he could be himself in front of you. He always feared people discovering his true self. That he wasn't this scary boogeyman that everyone feared, but that he was just a guy with feelings.

Max looked at the titles. He then saw one that caught his attention…

“The tales of hades and Persephone”

Max it off the bookshelf looking at it.

“That’s a good choice it’s one of my favorites”

"You like the story of Hades and Persephone?" Max asked you.

Max had a soft spot for Persephone. So you already had good points with him.

"That is my second favorite. I like the story of Eros and Psyche. I think it is a beautiful story of love winning against all odds" Max replied.

This woman was the first person whom Max could be himself with. So he felt comfortable enough to talk to you about his passion.

“Yes, I love the story of Hades and Persephone. Most people think that Hades was a horrible husband but he was one of the only faithful ones. Hades was only devoted to his wife and when he noticed how sad and homesick Persephone had gotten he let her leave to go home to see her Mother. They say that's part of the reason why we have winter and spring

"I agree I never understood why people thought Hades was a bad God. He truly felt for Persephone and just wanted the best for her." Max replied.

"I know some people say that he kidnapped Persephone, but let's be honest she did fall for him," Max said.

“Exactly”

"I've just always believed that Persephone chose Hades herself and did love him," Max replied.

Max then looked back at you. Max felt drawn to you; he didn't understand why but he felt a connection with you.

"So what's your name by the way?" He asked you hoping to know more about you.

“I’m y/n”

"My name is Max"

Max said before flashing you his most attractive feature, a smile.

"But you probably know me by my old nicknames: The Angel of Death, The Grim Reaper, and even The Boogeyman," Max said as a joke.

“You're joking right?” You asked

"Well no not really" Max replied smiling.

"I was once an angel until I was cast out of the heavens for my rebellion."

"And when I was sent to hell to rule and punish those who deserved it I had no real name so my subjects just started calling me The Angel of Death, The Grim Reaper, or even just the boogeyman," Max said. He then said " I am the boogeyman" With his scary voice he used to intimidate people he wanted to punish.

“Oh okay”

Max could see a glimmer of awe in your eyes and realized that he scared you.

"Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you. I have been told I have that effect on people '' Max replied, trying to reassure you.

“Weirdly I’m not scared I don’t know why,” you said

Max was confused; he was used to people being scared of him when he told them he was the boogeyman who rules hell.

He didn't understand why you didn't show any sign of fear of him. But Max liked that in you. You were different.

Max's feelings for you started to get stronger.

"I guess you are built differently," Max said to you.

“Yeah I guess I am”

Max was still stuck on the fact that you were not scared of him. And you were a mystery to him.

Max was intrigued by you. He wanted to learn everything about you. You were his mystery girl.

"So I know this sounds weird but what do you do in your spare time?" Max asked. He wanted to know what made you tick.

Max took a step closer to you and looked into your eyes. He was so deep in his feelings that he wasn't aware of the physical space between you too.

He wasn't used to talking to a girl and he wanted to know everything about you but he also didn't want to appear like a creep.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I just am curious about you, that's all" Max said with a smile.

“I don’t do anything outside of my bookstore it takes up all my time I love it here”

Max thought for a minute about what you said.

"Have you thought about taking a little break from working so much and doing something fun? I hear the world is beautiful"

Max tried to get you to realize that you needed to live a little. That you couldn't be stuck up in a bookstore all the time.

“I never thought about it I would like to actually. You see the world”

"Why don't you see the world with me?" Max said to you.

Max's feelings for you were increasing.

He wanted to take you to see the best of the world. He wanted to show you the world. He wanted to make you happy.

“I just met you though isn’t that a little weird?”

"Just a little"

Max said with a flirty grin.

He could see that he was starting to get to you. As you started to get flustered. He continued.

"But I think it would be nice if I showed you the world it is really beautiful"

Max said with a big smile. But he could see you were contemplating his proposal.

"It's not like we are going to do anything weird we are just going to see the beauty of the world that's all"

“Alright then I’ll go see the world with you”

As you finally accepted to see the world with him Max could see the joy on your face. As your face lit up in excitement.

"Are you free this weekend?" Max asked with an excited smile.

Max was starting to have feelings for you.

“Yes I’m free this weekend max”

As you said this the smile on Max's face grew even more as his feelings for you increased. Your smile was so magnetic he could just get lost in it.

Max was lost In thought and then snapped back into reality.

"Great! This weekend it is then. I'll take you to a perfect spot on a sunset" Max said with a smirk.

Max had plans. This was not just seeing the sunset. This was going on a date with the most beautiful girl Max had ever seen in his entire life.

“I can’t wait”

Max couldn't wait either.

The weekend couldn't come soon enough.

Max thought about what he would do to make this date as romantic as possible.

The date was set.

Max now had to find a way to make sure that it was an unforgettable date. He had to pull out his A-game.

———

It had been a year since you met Max and found out that he was the devil you didn’t care about, that you loved him and he loved you.

You spent everyday together, every moment together, I knew he wasn't like the other devils, he wasn't the one to play tricks on people or scare them.

You were the only human he ever loved and he made sure to always look out for you.

You wanted to say it neither one of you had said those three little words yet.

“Max I love you,” you said looking up at him

Max had a moment to process those words before he responded

"Y/n I love you" he replied whilst looking into your eyes and slowly coming closer to you.

You couldn't help but smile at him.

"Do you want to come back to the underworld? We can spend eternity there," Max asked, looking down at you.

“I’d go anywhere with you Max”

"Even hell?" Max asked you before placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close to him.

“Even hell Max” You looked up whispering

Max smirked at you.

"Alright, then darling" he whispered to you before pulling you in for a heated kiss.

"Let's go," he said to you whispering in your ear.

As Max kissed you deeply, he grabbed your hand and then disappeared into the underworld.

Time had been kind to the underworld as you found yourself in a large open area that was full of lush plants and beautiful colours.

As you looked up you could see a beautiful house amongst the open area.

"Welcome home," Max said to you softly, "Would you like for me to show you around?" He asked.

“Yes I would like that”

Max took your hand and led you from area to area throughout the house introducing you to the staff and the room's in the house.

The place was filled with beauty, every corner of the house was filled with flowers, paintings, plants and all sorts of art pieces.

"Do you like the place?" Max asked you whilst smiling softly down at you.

“Yes I like it here it’s not what I expected honestly”

"Wait until you see your room" Max said before looking down at you. "But I think you will have to sleep in my room" he said whilst winking at you.

“I’d like that you know sleeping with you”

Max let a smirk grow across his face."Alright then" he said whilst taking your hand again and leading you back to his room.

Max opened the door to his room and you were immediately greeted by the sight of beautiful paintings , plants ,and a soft scent of the flowers you had seen around the house. Max led you over to his king-sized bed

"You are going to look beautiful resting here" he whispered whilst pulling you close to him.

“Max kiss me please”

Max pulled you right up against him placing his hands on your waist

"Only because you asked so nicely"

Max kissed you softly before slowly and gently pulling you down with him on the bed.

As the two of you laid on the bed Max slowly placed his hands on your thighs as he looked down at you with a smirk

"I think we both know what's going to happen next don't we" he whispered whilst grinning.

“Yes and I trust you”

"That's good," Max said as he kissed you passionately. With one hand on your thigh, he began to gently massage you, working over the tension you had held for the entire day. He kissed you once again .

Before he pulled away he whispered into your ear

"I love you y/n, I will always take care of you"

“I love you too”

"Max smiled as he looked at you before looking down at your leg . He slowly started to climb on top of you . "I'm going to show you how much I love you"

“I need you max”

Max kissed the top of your head before running your fingers through your hair gently.

He leaned down and kissed your neck softly and then started to kiss along your jawline.

Max kissed your bottom lip slowly , before his lips met yours once again.

Max broke away from the kiss slowly and looked back down at you .

He stared into your eyes for a moment before starting to kiss your neck once more, slowly moving over to your collarbone.

He bit into your skin , creating a warm sensation of pain before kissing it again and running his tongue over it slowly.

Max bit into your collarbone again ,this time harder causing a small bit of your blood to escape. He kissed the wound closed and licked up the blood that escaped. Before kissing your collarbone again ,this time licking up all the blood.

"I think I have proved how much I love you " he whispered to you whilst grinning

"I am yours" he said

“I am yours too max” you said, pulling him for a much needed kiss.

That night as you were laying in Maxs arms you realized something…

Max was hades and you were Persephone.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen icons #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen #devil!max verstappen x reader

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whorergal · 1 year

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SHE'S MINE (PART THREE)

summary: you and ethan form a plan but in order for it to work, you need to make it look believable…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. follows the plot loosely. happy ending, i promise.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: here's the final part! i just wanted to say thank you for all the likes and reblogs!! it's honestly so sweet of everyone and it means a lot to me! i have a bunch of ideas for ethan so look out for more imagines and hopefully a masterlist for easier navigation (i'm still new to this lol) :-) i love u all so much

❗️: u can find part one here and part two here <3

——————————————————————————————

To say that you were surprised when finding out about Ethan and his relation to Richie Kirsch would be an understatement. He had been someone that you had hated and even vented to Ethan about when you two first met. It just seemed very ironic. Although Ethan did love his brother, he knew the things he did weren't right once he realized how much shit he put you through.

The late night calls because of your nightmares, the flashbacks you would get whenever someone touched you too roughly, having to avoid the scars on your body because it brought you back to Woodsboro; it opened his eyes.

You weren't entirely shocked to find out Quinn was the other Ghostface that attacked you. She always had some unsaid vendetta against you and you realized now it was just because of your history. What did shock you was to find out Detective Bailey was the mastermind behind it all—not only that, but he was also Ethan and Quinn's father.

He showed up the moment you and Ethan met your friends outside their apartment. Mindy had stolen you from Ethan, leaving him alone with Chad, who was asking him questions to confirm his whereabouts. Luckily, you made sure to practice what to say with him on the train ride there. It seemed your excuses sufficed because Chad nodded, apologizing for thinking the worst.

While on your trip to the run-down theater, Chad had taken Mindy, thanking you for lifting her mood (you three had always been close since you were kids). You walked in the back alongside Ethan, holding his hand to calm your nerves which ended up in you receiving a look from Bailey. You don't think he knew you noticed but ever since you found out about him, you had been unintentionally tense around him.

The memorabilia that had been collected scared the hell out of you. It increased your worries despite knowing everything would end up being okay.

Tara seemed to notice how your breathing began to increase and stepped closer to you. "Hey, you okay?"

You looked at her, faking a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just going to get some air."

The group all watched you leave. Chad was going to follow after you but Tara stopped him when they saw that Ethan had already been on your trail. She smirked at him.

"You owe me five bucks," Tara informed him.

"Shut up," Chad replied, shaking his head.

No one found you two suspicious. If anything, your sudden relationship seemed to throw them off your tracks.

Everyone left the theater, finding you two on the steps, you tiredly laying in his arms. Tara smiled at you two, gesturing for you to follow. When you got up, Mindy reclaimed you as her own again, pulling you away from Ethan as she needed your comfort. You talked with her the whole walk to fill her mind with distractions.

They all needed somewhere to recoup and to come up with a reliable plan. You offered your apartment, knowing theirs was most likely still a crime scene. Yours hadn't been messed up in the sense that there was no broken doors and bloody messes all over the floor. Mindy actually agreed, saying she wanted to sit in Anika's room alone for a little bit.

"Don't mind the mess," you joked once entering. Your books were scattered about the place. "And the…blood," you muttered when you saw some it trailing where you had dragged yourself across the kitchen.

None of them cared much, getting right into what to do next. You ended up leaving to your room because your stitches were hurting like hell and you didn't want to cause any alarm to them about it.

You sat there, alone for a few minutes until you heard a quiet knock on the door. Honestly, you were expecting Tara, or maybe Chad because he kept eyeing you frequently, but Ethan peeked his head inside and you sighed of relief. He gave you his awkward smile and entered slowly, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" he asked, walking over to take a seat on your bed beside you.

You nodded, holding back a wince at the movement he caused which made you flex your muscles. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Nothing I'm not used to."

"Your stitches," he realized aloud, leaning closer. "Shit, I forgot. Do they hurt?"

"Sort of," you responded, gripping your stomach as if it would make the pain go away.

"Is there anything I can do?" He looked at you softly, as if his eye contact could harm you.

You forced a smile. "Distract me, please."

"Well, I, uh," he stuttered. "I came up with a plan."

"A plan?" You questioned, confused.

"Yeah. I talked to my dad while at the theater and I found out the last steps he and Quinn will be taking," Ethan informed you which wasn't exactly the distraction you wanted but nevertheless, it was useful. "He doesn't know about you, or about us so I have him convinced that the reason I saved you was because I wanted to kill you myself."

You widened your eyes. "Oh."

"Obviously, I'm not going to—"

"I know, E."

He nodded before continuing. "Quinn's going to get Gale next. Then she'll be heading for us. I'm not too sure what she wants to do but I know it'll involve someone in the group in order to keep them all from going to the theater. My guess will be Mindy. When that happens, she'll go for you next so you have to stick with me."

"Go for me next?" you repeated for more clarification.

"I told my dad that I wanted you there for act three. Quinn will knock you out, take you to the theater, dress you up in a robe and frame you as a Ghostface." He paused, scanning your expressions. It wasn't a bad idea, actually, other than the fact that you'll be framed as a psychotic murderer.

"Okay, so I just have to pretend that I don't know?" you questioned, wanting to make sure.

"Yes, exactly," he answered. "They're under the impression that I'm going to kill you so they'll tell Sam and Tara you're the Ghostface to throw them off and when the reveals happen, you'll be given to me."

You nod slowly, taking a second to let all the information sink in before worrying aloud. "What if they don't? What if Quinn ends up hurting me again?"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he declared, grabbing your face in his hands. "She knows better now."

Your eyes softened as you nod again for the last time. Then you fell forward into his arms, just wanting to be held. He did as told, being careful with your injury, and just played with your hair which made you smile.

"You know, when I said distraction, that wasn't really what I meant," you mumbled into his chest.

He furrowed his brows. "What did you—" then he stopped himself when he realized. "Oh."

You laughed until it turned into a wince. He pulled you apart from him to make sure you were okay. You nodded silently, diving right back into his arms again. It gave you comfort.

You and Ethan stayed close to each other the entire time you were with the group. He didn't want you to be without him, afraid losing you for one second would mean he would lose you forever. His hand was interlocked with yours or settled on top of your thigh—whatever physical touch he could get from you. You even ended up falling asleep on his shoulder inside the van with Kirby, Chad and Mindy.

Then when you guys detected the call was coming from Gale's apartment, kudos to Quinn, that was where you all headed to next. It was where you learned that Gale had actually survived her fatal attack which you wanted to snicker at because Quinn failed again but you held it back to not look weird.

Sam had created a plan with Kirby and Bailey to head to the theater in order to lure Ghostface and lock him in. Apparently that was Bailey's idea which made sense seeing as he was one of the Ghostface's. So you all headed to the train station in order to get a lift to the rundown area.

Someone had ended up shoving you away from the group, elbowing you right in the stomach. You had to pause, grunting in pain until you looked up and couldn't find anyone. You forced yourself to suck up the pain and roughly shove everyone out of your way which helped you catch sight of Ethan's worried expression, searching the crowd presumably for you.

He found you almost immediately, adjusting his backpack and running straight to you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when he got to you.

"It wasn't your fault," you reassured him.

You two finally reached the train right when it began to ride away from you. You groaned, knowing everyone had caught it together but then you saw Mindy ahead, doing the same thing as you.

"Mindy!" you hollered, causing her to turn and let out a sigh of relief to find out she wasn't alone.

"Thank god," she muttered. But then she saw Ethan and pulled you away from him protectively. "Get your Ghostface ass away from us, Ghostface."

Ethan gave her an offended look, watching as she created a safe distance from him. He kept looking at you two, making sure you were okay but Mindy would gesture for him to stop with arm movements. It caused him to roll his eyes.

When you entered the next train, you tried to convince Mindy to stick close to him in order to eliminate one of you from being attacked. She didn't listen but knew better than to force you to stay with her so she told you to "go to your boyfriend". You scoffed playfully at her childish behavior, finding her stubbornness amusing.

You had to squeeze through people to reach where he stood in the middle. When he saw you, his expression softened as he went forward to help you. Thankfully, there was a seat open right by where he stood so you sat there, mindlessly staring around as the train shook you.

The lights kept flickering and it gave you immense amount of anxiety. Ethan's eyes seemed to be fixed on Mindy, as if making sure she was okay as well. It must have meant Quinn was nearby seeing as she was targeting Mindy next.

Once the train finally came to a stop, Ethan turned to you and helped you up since your wounds were hurting more than usual. You instantly looked for Mindy but couldn't find her, sending you into a panic. You let go of Ethan, pushing people out of the way until you saw her lumped figure against the back of the train, a large stab wound in her gut.

Ethan and you both let out a jumble of curses while helping her up, leading her out of the train while calling for help.

You three were escorted to the nearest hospital where she went under immediate surgery and you even got yourself checked. Your stitches had reopened—which explained why they hurt so much—so they sewed them back together and even wrapped it up which made it feel a lot more secure.

The doctor released you, letting you return to where Mindy's room was. When you reached her floor, it was strangely quiet. Ethan had left you earlier, saying he needed to find Quinn, which you didn't pay much mind to as you assumed it was so he didn't look suspicious.

You scrolled through your phone, having not received any texts from Tara or the rest of the group that wasn't with you which made you nervous. They were probably busy setting up the theater but you couldn't help but assume the worst. In the midst of your distraction, you found yourself stepping into an unknown liquid which caused you to look from your phone to the floor.

It was blood.

Your mind immediately went to Mindy, but before you were able to worry about her, you were smacked across the head which sent you falling to the hard floor. Your vision started to become black when you swore you heard Ethan's voice.

"Ssh. It's okay, I got you."

- -

You awoke by the sound of excessive footsteps happening all around you. The bright lighting in the room caused your head to throb, making you squint your eyes until you felt well enough to open them all the way. You immediately recognized the room and knew you were inside the theater. You had no idea where Ethan was or what the hell was going on but you were positive that answer would come soon.

Slowly, you started to get up from your position, propping yourself up on your elbows. You looked around but your eyes couldn't help focusing on the black robe covering your entire body. Even though Ethan had informed you about this beforehand, you still felt yourself starting to panic.

What if he changed his mind? What if this was the plan all along; make you think he was on your side just to easily lure you into this trap. No, no, Ethan wouldn't do that.

"Look who's awake," the familiar voice that belonged to Detective Bailey spoke.

You searched around the room until his figure came into view, wearing an evil smirk. "What the hell is going on?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Actually you did. "You know the plan. You know why we're here; to stop Ghostface. It was pretty easy to convince Sam that Kirby was mentally unfit and had taken the mantle in her own hands for the best friend she lost…but she couldn't do it alone. That's where you come in."

"What are you talking about?" Your voice was groggy. Your mind was still fuzzy from the hit you received so his voice didn't really sound as close as it was to you. "Are you saying that Kirby's Ghostface?"

"Well, to Sam and Tara she'll be," he told you. Then he crouched to reach your level. "And you'll be to."

"What?"

"Kirby needed someone to do the dirty work for her while she couldn't." He shrugged, his voice becoming more and more angered as he continued talking. "Don't worry, you won't be the only one. My own accomplices will take the fall with you until the time is right. But we have to fuck with Sam somehow. We have to make her feel betrayal to throw us off her radar for the best reveal. Make her feel what she's made us feel for the past year."

"You're Ghostface?" you questioned. Your fogged up mind was really helping you play the part of confused.

He nodded. "And so are you."

You looked at him in disgust. "What the fuck?"

"It has to be this way, Y/N," he tutted in sarcastic sadness. It pissed you off. "You were the easiest pawn in this game. Your betrayal will weaken them the most. It's the perfect fucking idea!"

"Fuck you!" you yelled, kicking him straight in the face.

You were able to throw him back. Your uneasy state didn't help you much in your favor because as you lifted yourself up, your knees gave out. The mix of pain coming from your wounds plus your throbbing head made you nauseous that you didn't even completely register the feeling of Bailey gripping you by the hair until the cold touch of his gun was placed against your temple.

Unable to move in general, you froze.

"Unless you want your brains splattered across this wall, I'd suggest you follow my orders," he threatened. You winced at the rough shake he gave your head in order to emphasize his words. You immediately surrendered to which he noticed and nodded at. "Good."

He let go of your hair forcefully, it caused you to fall forward, catching yourself. You heard shuffling coming from behind you but when you turned to look, his back was the only thing you could make out. "What are you doing?"

"You need this to complete your costume," he responded, walking back over to you. He was enthusiastically holding a mask in the air. "This is Mickey Altieri's mask. I thought he would fit you well, you know, once I paint you to be this psycho who wanted to kill your friends for fun."

You glared at him. "They'll never believe you."

"Oh, I think they just might." He nodded, forcing the mask over your face which you tried to fight against. Then, there were gunshots heard which made you flinch and Bailey chuckle. "It's showtime."

He forced you on your feet by your robe, holding you tightly in his grip as he dragged you out of the room. You had no strength so he was basically holding your entire weight as you struggled to find balance. With your lack of stability, there wasn't much you could do and also because you felt his gun poking your back as if to keep you in your place.

"Get away from the girls!" Bailey announced his presence, pulling you along with him like a rag doll. "It's over, Kirby! I got you and your partner!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Kirby questioned in utter disbelief and you didn't blame her.

"Cut the bullshit!" Bailey hollered. "I saw this one helping you out to stage your attack!"

"What?!" Kirby's voice rose an octave.

"Who is this, Kirby? Huh?" he asked, referring to you as he shook you in his grip.

"I have no idea, okay?! It's not me!"

"Well, I'll just have to see for myself—" he was muttering to himself, using the hand that held his gun to rip the mask off your face. "Oh my god…"

"Y/N?" Sam looked at you in betrayal.

"What the fuck," Tara whispered, backing away from you.

"Stop! It's not me!" you yelled, squirming but he readjusted his grip. "It's not Kirby either! He's lying!"

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Bailey questioned. "How could you? Where the hell are the others?!"

"You're insane!" you yelled at him. You redirected your attention to them, finding it hard to breathe. "I'm not Ghostface! He is! He knocked me out and forced me into this costume! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Did you and Y/N kill Quinn?" Bailey asked in anger, his question targeted at Kirby. "Did you two kill my daughter?!" He shook you, looking at you when he finished his question.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby let out.

"We didn't do anything!" you answered, feeling your voice beginning to give out. "You know that, you asshole!"

"Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him! Y/N and I are innocent!" Kirby defended you both. "He's probably Ghostface."

"Why would he kill his own daughter?" Sam couldn't help but question, glancing back and forth between you and Kirby.

"Because he's a psycho!" you answered loudly.

"It doesn't make any sense—"

Kirby's voice overpowered Tara's concern as you saw her eyes go wide and gun straighten. "Behind you!"

You heard loud footsteps rushing toward you from behind but everything went silent the moment Bailey shot his gun, landing two bullets in Kirby's stomach. She fell to the ground, causing you to gasp. You let out another shriek when you felt a pair of strong arms grab you from behind, restricting you from movement as they dragged you along with them to stand beside Bailey.

It was Ethan.

"Great job," Bailey complimented. "Both of you."

"What the fuck?" Sam breathed out in confusion until she saw your frightened figure still being held. You saw guilt flash across her face for not trusting you.

"Let her go!" Tara screamed, heading for you but Sam had to hold her back.

It caused Bailey to chuckle. "Oh, you should've seen the look on your faces. To think your only friend would betray you but she's actually innocent; just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Fuck you!" You let out.

Ethan covered your mouth with his gloved hand and you instinctively relaxed in his grip but forced yourself to fight him in order to make it look believable. You assumed he wanted to make sure your words wouldn't end up pissing Bailey off so he didn't do anything rash to you.

You were fading in and out of reality. You weren't paying attention until Bailey nudged Ethan to take off his mask.

He pulled it off with a smile on his face.

You looked up from where he had you, your mouth dropping into a fake gasp. "E-Ethan?"

"Hi, baby," he whispered in your ear. "Mindy was right. It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you guys was to room with a conceited, condescending asshole, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him!" His tone made you flinch; he sounded really insane. Then he rose his mask in the air. "This was your grandmother's Sam; Nancy Loomis. Really runs in the fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family…my names not Ethan Landry. Isn't it, dad?"

Tara looked lost. "Dad?"

"Had to keep it secret. I mean, I had to get close to you guys somehow," Ethan stated, leaning his cheek to be against yours. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek which would've made you blush in any other circumstance. "Had to have Y/N for myself."

"You're psychotic," you told him.

Catching him off guard, you managed to shove his arms away from you. Tara and Sam were prepared to pull you away but he gathered you rather easily as you didn't make it much of a battle to. You just needed to look like you weren't comfortable with being in this position.

What startled you was the feeling of his blade being placed against your throat. "Not so fast," he whispered.

You gulped. Now you were really afraid.

"Let her go, you asshole!" Tara shouted.

Ethan pulled the knife away and rose it at her which absentmindedly made her flinch. "Oh, come on. Y/N doesn't mind this. Don't you, baby?"

"Fuck you," you breathed out.

"So vulgar that mouth of yours." His attention was purely on you as his knife was placed back against your throat.

Tara watched in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Ethan was the one who came up with this plan," Bailey said proudly, squeezing his son's shoulder. "He knew how easy it would be to make Y/N fall for him. It kept him from looking suspicious because nobody suspects the caring boyfriend."

They both began to chuckle together. You rolled your eyes at them. It caused Ethan to dig the knife deeper into your skin, on the verge of slicing you.

"Wait," Sam interrupted them. "If it's you two, then that just leaves…"

While they all gawked in betrayal at Quinn's reveal, Ethan leaned his lips close to your hair to cover his words. "You okay?"

You glanced at him and you could see the apologetic look in his eyes for the position he had you in. You nodded very slightly before trying to squirm out of his grip again.

"Hey, roomies. You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!"

"Kind of didn't." Quinn tilted her head. "I had to get off the suspect list. Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy in the train, take Y/N because Ethan couldn't do it himself!"

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"It's funny, isn't it," Quinn continued. "Poor Y/N. She was just trying to help her friends which only led her straight into the trap. Come on, how fucking stupid can you be?!"

"Let her go," Sam stated sternly. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"She has everything to do with this!" Quinn yelled back, walking over to where Ethan still held you. She traced the tip of her knife along your stomach which caused you to shiver as she pressed into your stitches. "She's a killer, just like you, Sam. That's why it'll be easy to frame you both."

"What?" Tara questioned.

"Oh." Quinn jumped from her spot. "You didn't really think we'd take the blame for it. It'll all fall onto Sam, the villain of Woodsboro. She couldn't get enough so she just had to go on another killing spree and she couldn't do it all alone! She needed someone to help her."

"Y/N's not a killer," Sam stated matter-of-factly, watching in disbelief. "Neither am I. We're not killers."

"Oh, shut up!" Quinn snapped.

Bailey walked forward, pulling out a mask from his jacket and raising it for her to see. "You're a killer just like your father."

"No, I'm not!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!"

Tara furrowed her brows. "You said your brother died in a car accident?"

"No, no, no, you sweet dumb thing," Ethan jumped into the conversation. "He died in Woodsboro at the hands of your bitch sister with the help of Y/N, here."

Sam's face fell in realization. "You're Richie's family."

"Now she's finally getting it." Ethan smirked.

He gripped your robe, tugging you carelessly to follow him as he and Quinn ventured around the seats in order to get behind Sam and Tara, significantly trapping them. It caused the two to tense and you as well. You weren't sure what was going to happen next.

"Y/N didn't kill him," Sam declared in annoyance. "I'm the one who slit his throat; I'm the one who watched him bleed to death as he cried like a fucking baby."

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn lashed out, walking forward to push Sam, catching her off guard.

"Hands off, Quinn!" Bailey demanded loudly which seemed to set his psychotic daughter in place. "Before we get into that, we have something else that needs to be done first." It seemed all their attention fell on you. "Ethan, why don't you go take care of Y/N. Plant her body just where we discussed."

"No!" Tara yelled, attempting to head toward you but was stopped by Quinn, who stepped in front of her with her knife.

Sam pushed Quinn, causing an uproar as they tried to fight her but Bailey put their actions to a pause by facing the gun to their faces. They both shuddered and stopped fighting, having to watch you be dragged away.

"Go, Ethan," Bailey instructed.

"No, no, no," you heard Tara cry out until he pushed you inside the room and the door was shut, silencing all sound.

"God," Ethan groaned, dropping the act, even dropping his knife in the process as he rushed towards you, grabbing your face in his hands as he checked for any injuries. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? They didn't touch you, right? I didn't mean anything I said; I promise. I hate this so much—"

"Ethan," you interrupted his rambling. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine, I promise. I've been through worse."

Not wasting another second, he leaned down to pull you into a passionate kiss. Several emotions were coursing through you but once feeling his lips on yours, you felt yourself relax as if you two weren't on the verge of being potentially murdered by his fucked up family.

He couldn't pull away, afraid if he did, he would lose you so you had to be the one to do it—even if it hurt you to. "What's the next step?" you asked him.

"Faking your death," he told you casually. It almost made you want to laugh. "They're too indulged with Sam and Tara to pay attention to us. Besides, they can't hear much but I have to make this look quick."

You nodded, listening as he was about to get into what he wanted you to do next but the sound of footsteps caused you both to go rigid. When you looked past his shoulder, you felt relieved when you saw Kirby, miraculously still standing despite the amount of injuries she had endured, with her gun aimed at Ethan.

"Let her go," she instructed him.

"Kirby, wait," you interrupted, pushing him behind you so now her gun was facing you. "He's innocent."

"What? But I heard him. He killed Chad—"

"I didn't. I didn't hit any major arteries," Ethan defended himself.

"What are you talking about?" Kirby questioned.

"Ethan was Ghostface but he had to be in order to keep me safe so I offered to help him kill Bailey and Quinn for saving my life," you explained very vaguely, your words slurring together. "Please, you have to believe me. He would've done something to me by now if he wasn't."

Kirby took a second to process your words before she began to slowly drop her aim. "Okay. Okay, I believe you."

"Good," you thanked her, turning to Ethan. "What's next?"

"Down the hallway will lead you into the room where the back entrance is located. The plan for them is to make Sam understand what she's done before attempting to kill them both," he told you and Kirby, who had approached you two to watch your backs for any unwanted guests who would pop out. "Our backs will be facing you two and which gives you both the opportunity to get either of them because they won't see you coming."

"Okay." You nodded. "You got that, Kirby?"

"One step ahead of you," she responded.

"And this is for you." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife. "For your protection."

You chuckled breathlessly, taking it from him as you looked up from the knife to him. "We got it from here," you assured him. "Go before they find you suspicious."

Ethan nodded, preparing to leave until he paused, leaning down to pull you back in for another kiss. You sighed into his lips, wanting nothing but to kiss him all day and not have to face the reality that lied outside the room.

"Wrap it up, lovebirds," Kirby said in impatience.

Ethan pulled away, his cheeks flushed red. "Be safe," he demanded more than said.

"You too," you told him, smiling.

He squeezed your hand, as if reassuring you, before he let you go and headed towards the door. He grabbed his knife, taking a second before finally leaving the room.

"Let's go, kid," Kirby demanded, already walking away which gave you no choice but to follow.

She took lead as she was the one with the gun, securing the place before gesturing for you to follow.

While stopped at a corner, her peeking past the wall to make sure it was clear, you couldn't help but question aloud to distract you from your thoughts. "How are you still alive?"

Kirby turned and gave you a look, as if saying 'right now really isn't the time'. You sucked in a breath and nodded, letting her go back to what she was doing.

When you both made it to the room Ethan was talking about, you found Chad propped up against a counter. He looked dazed, on the verge of passing out—or dying. You immediately ran to him, crouching to his level.

"Chad, hey? Can you hear me?" you asked stupidly, grabbing his face.

"…Y-Y/N?" His voice was quiet and weak.

"Yeah, it's me," you answered. "I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? It's almost over with."

"I'm trying," he hissed through his teeth.

"Y/N, when should we make our move?" Kirby asked, making you look to see her peering through the window.

You rubbed Chad's arm reassuringly before getting up to look through the other one right beside her. You could see a video of Richie when he was younger playing on the projector, causing you to scoff.

Kirby glanced at you and back at the scene. "That's the fucker who got you guys last year, isn't it?"

You nodded, feeling angry. All the pent up emotions you forced yourself to swallow over the past year were resurfacing. "Let's get them now."

She nodded, opening the door very quietly. You put your finger to your lips, gesturing for her to stay silent as you crawled forward to the memorabilia. Kirby whispered a bundle of words but you didn't listen as you discreetly reached up at one of the cases, opening it and stealing the knife that was being displayed.

You had no idea who it belonged to previously but you needed to get it just in case Tara or Sam needed one.

When you crawled back to Kirby, she had a surprised mixed with disbelief look on her face. "What the hell?"

"I had to get one for Sam and Tara," you responded.

"Just get behind me," she instructed, which you followed because she was someone you didn't want to piss off.

Kirby took a moment of contemplation, preparing herself before she leaped out, shooting perfectly at Bailey. She had two shots in his stomach but was stopped from continuing as Quinn tackled her to the floor.

You jumped out from your spot, stabbing her straight in the back and throwing her off Kirby.

"Y/N?" Tara questioned, running toward you.

You gasped in surprise when you felt her body being thrown on you, her arms wrapping around your waist. You had pry her arms off of you. "Here, give this to Sam," you said, handing her the knife. "Kill that motherfucker."

"I thought Ethan killed you," she said sadly, tears in her eyes.

Before you could respond, you fell forward into Tara's arms as Quinn stabbed you in the middle of your back. She pulled it out and was prepared to land another one until Ethan shoved her back to the ground, keeping her in place by shoving his knife straight into her chest. At this, Tara looked extremely confused, helping you gain your balance.

You glanced behind your shoulder to see what she was looking at and groaned as you straightened your posture to help yourself stand. "He's on our side," you let out before you pushed her toward Sam. "Just go help Sam—hurry! I'll take care of Quinn."

Tara nodded, making sure you were okay before running back to where Sam was struggling to keep Bailey down.

You turned to help Kirby up from the floor. She dusted herself off and grabbed her gun. "Thanks."

Then you two hovered over Quinn, who was gasping for air as Ethan twisted the knife, causing her to gasp. He pulled it out, blood flying to coat his face as she winced loudly.

Kirby rose her gun, aiming it at her forehead but you stopped her before she could pull the trigger. "Wait."

"What?" Kirby asked, confused.

You didn't answer, leaning down instead to hover above her face as she struggled to move, let alone speak. Blood was spewing out of her mouth as she tried to say something, probably an insult of some kind.

You straddled her waist, gripping her hair as you brought her face close to yours. "Ready to die just like your brother?"

Quinn's eyes widened but she wasn't able to do much as your knife sliced her throat, causing blood to run out. You stood up, returning back to your spot between Ethan and Kirby, watching as she took her last breath. Her eyes fell motionless, staring at the ceiling.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. "You okay?"

Ethan glanced at you, nodding. "Yeah. She was always a terrible sister, anyway."

His response made you smile. Kirby watched the two of you with a smile of her own. "You two did good."

"So did you," you complimented.

She ruffled your hair, earning a smile from you.

A gunshot caused you three to jump, turning around, prepared to attack but became aware that it was from Sam. Tara had the knife in her hand, covered in Bailey's blood as Sam was the cause of the bullet between his eyes.

When you approached them, Sam flinched at the sound of footsteps and rose the gun.

"Hey, it's just us!" Kirby hollered.

Sam nodded until she furrowed her brows, turning her aim at Ethan. He widened his eyes in fear, raising his hands.

"No, wait!" you shouted, jumping in front of him like you had done with Kirby previously. "He's with us."

"What?" Sam questioned.

"It's true," Kirby confirmed, taking a spot next to you in order to shield him as well. "He was the one who told us what to do in order to save you guys."

"But your dad and sister—"

"Are insane," Ethan finished her sentence. "I wanted nothing to do with this. The only reason I helped was because they threatened to kill Y/N," he explained to them, making you reach to hold his hand to comfort him. "I'm sorry for what I've caused and not being able to stop them before we got to this point. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry won't bring back the people we lost," Sam told him.

"I know." He nodded sadly.

"Sam." Tara brought her hand up to force her sister's arm down, making her lower her aim. "He helped us and he saved Y/N. He could've just let us die."

"We don't have time for this," Kirby groaned in annoyance, sticking her gun back into her holster. "You have to get to Chad. I'll call for help."

"Chad?" Tara questioned.

Kirby nodded, leading her into the room where he was situated. She left you, Sam and Ethan alone for any further conversation that needed to be made as she went to go help Tara and call the police.

Sam sighed, dropping the gun. "I can't forgive you, Ethan but I'm sure as time goes by, I can find a way to. You mean a lot to Y/N and she means a lot to me. So, if she's able to trust you and then I am too," she told him, giving a brief smile until she turned serious. "But if you do anything to hurt her, I won't hesitate to—"

"Got it," he interrupted, nodding sternly.

"Good," Sam responded. "I'm glad you two are safe."

"I'm glad you are too," you told her sadly, walking forward to give her hug. "Don't believe anything they said, Sam. You aren't like your father."

"I know, Y/N/N," she whispered, caressing your head.

You heard soft chatter coming from outside the theater room, catching your attention. "It must be the police."

"Let's go," Sam told you both.

You nodded, letting her walk first as you grabbed Ethan's hand in yours. Before you two continued, you paused, turning to face him with a sad expression. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Ethan smiled, genuinely smiled, looking down from where you held his hand back into your eyes. "I will be because I got you and I couldn't be more thankful."

You grinned. As long as I got you.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x you #jack champion #scream imagine #scream vi imagine

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piived · 5 months

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𝐃𝐏𝐱𝐃𝐂 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 — 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧

Danny gets stabbed on his way home from campus, caught unaware and doesn’t have time for a reaction other than reflexively lashing out after he feels the pain and ends up knocking the thug out with one hit (barely remembering to pull his punch enough not to actually brain the guy). He’s not too worried about the wound and the knife is even still buried in his side (which, score, he’s building up quite a collection) so he’s ready to just pull it out and continue on his way home (laundry is going to be a bitch and he’s debating if he should just use this shirt as a rag now and buy a new one later) when fucking Red Hood drops down from the sky and nearly makes Danny involuntarily turn invisible (like he’s 14 again and doesn’t know how to use his powers, like come on dude pull yourself together).

Red Hood takes a look at this guy who he just saw get stabbed and punch the lights out of a thug at least three times his size and is thoroughly impressed and also strangely worried because the kid doesn’t even look phased (which like, it’s Gotham, he knows most residents are fairly desensitized to crime but being stabbed normally warrants a stronger reaction from even the native Gothamites). And then he catches sight of the wound and even in the dim light of the alley they’re in he can tell something is wrong and suddenly he’s seeing the same green the guy is bleeding tinged around the edges of his vision and fuck. He hasn’t had a Pit Episode in a while and he really really hasn’t missed the boiling, festering rage.

Meanwhile Danny is wondering wtf is going on and if Red Hood is going to say anything or let him go, when he gets the worst Ghost Sense he’s had since leaving Amity but it’s not normal; it’s too intense and makes his stomach whirl in nausea and everything in him is screaming WRONG WRONG WRONG —

— and then the pieces slot into place and he realizes that it’s stemming from the vigilante in front of him who has green seeping from behind the eyes of his helmet and Danny feels such an ache of sorrow and fierce protection that it makes his breath catch and he knows he has to help this guy who is so clearly like himself but not quite right.

He invites Red Hood back to his apartment after calming him down and making the vigilante furiously curious and thrown off by, well, everything about Danny (who casually pulls the knife out as they walk as if it’s an afterthought that he forgot about and not a gaping wound on his person).

And they go from there, getting to know each other and helping Jason clear out the last of the Pit and come to terms with the whole ghost concept, etc, etc…

Divider Credits:

green line divider from @/kitsunecafe

green slime divider from @/magicalboything

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompt #dead on main #dead on main prompt #danny x jason #if you use this idea tag me!! i wanna see :)#i may write an actual drabble of this at some point but we shall see #vee’s prompts #vee’s writing

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lucky-bucky-boy · 11 months

Text

Blooming Showers

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: A split-second decision leads to a night full of changes

Word Count: 3610

Warnings: Angst with some fluff at the end, little use of Y/N, assigned nickname towards the end, distrust, anger, wound/mention of blood, anxiety, racing thoughts, friends-to-lovers

A/N: This is definitely my longest piece I’ve written in a really long time. I started watching TASM with my cousin and friends and immediately fell in love with Andrew Garfield all over again so I NEEDED to write something. This isn’t smutty but I kind of want to do a part two thats smutty and angsty

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Rain softly padded against the window, causing the lights from outside to cast soft shadows, the lights from passing cars making those shadows dance. It was quiet, almost serene in New York - the sirens were few a far between tonight, and distant as well, the occasional coo of a bird trying to find shelter - there were no kids running down the fire escape trying to sneak out, no couples in petty arguments that shook through the thin walls.

Nights like this were few and far in-between, where for a few minutes you were able to fall in love with your city all over again, and you were able to remember every reason why you wanted to be here.

The only thing that would've made the night better would have been seeing Peter, your lifelong best friend, and partner-in-chaos. Your phone lit up occasionally with messages from him, apologizing over and over for missing another scheduled movie night.

It wasn't the end of the world, Aunt May needed help with something so you understood, but it still stung. This was the 4th one this year he'd miss. You understood when there was a foot of snow on the ground, and when midterms then finals week came, but it had felt like since graduation two weeks ago that Peter had been avoiding you.

Trying not to dwell on the sinking feeling was hard, so many changes were happening and your brain was becoming more and more hyper-aware that more changes were bound to come. Graduation may overall be a good thing, opening up new opportunities and finally not having to worry about classes you'd never use a day in your adult life, but it also meant that you were about to start a new chapter of life.

In an attempt to stop the racing thoughts, you decided Fuck Peter for missing your movie night and decided to watch a movie anyways. Pressing play on an old favorite, you left the comfort of your bed to grab some snacks from the kitchen.

Ten minutes. That's all you were gone, but in those ten minutes, the city's beloved vigilante slid your window open, practically tumbling off of the fire escape and onto the floor. He did his best to avoid your bed, not wanting to soak it in the rain or the blood that was on him.

There was a cut through his suit, not deep but enough to nick the skin and have scarlet drops dripping down. He reached for a towel that had been carelessly discarded by you earlier in the night, haphazardly tying his cut up with his free hand and then pulling his mask off.

Peter's breaths were rugged, head now leaned back against your bed as he tried to calm himself from the adrenaline rush of the near-death experience he just had. Sure, he only had a cut and a few bruises to show for it, but he knew deep down without his enhanced sense he surely would have been dead. He hadn't even processed the split-second decision he made to go to your apartment instead of Aunt May's house.

It wasn't until your shrill scream, the sound of the snacks hitting the floor that Peter's eyes flew open, looking at you as if he had just been caught committing a crime. His eyes were wide, realizing at that very moment the weight of his actions and inactions for the past several years. He didn't dare move, only a breathy sigh of your name leaving his lips.

Your brain moved quickly once you realize that the intruder sitting on your floor was Peter… Your Peter, dressed in a red and blue skin-tight suit, holding a mask, with your towel wrapped around his arm. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

"Peter?" You knew it was him, but your brain was still attempting to come up with some explanation as to why he was dressed as Spider-Man.

You quickly grabbed the stuff you had dropped, putting it on the bed and kneeling next to him. "Peter, what the fuck is going on?"

He stared at you, blinking a few times and not sure what to say. He knew there was a lot he needed to say, a lot that needed to be explained but he didn't know where to start. He's been lying to you about a part of himself for years now.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, breaths still shaky.

You now realized the towel was covering a cut, the smell of iron mixed with city rain present in your nose. "Shit, what the fuck. Are you okay? What the hell is going on?"

He nodded, "I've been worse," he mumbled. "I'll be fine, don't worry 'bout me." He leaned his head back against your bed again, taking a heavy breath in.

That was the worst thing he could have said to you. Don't worry, at this point, you were worried and confused about everything.

"Peter, you're my best friend, you know I love you, but if I do not get an answer as to what is going on in the next minute I am kicking your ass and calling May."

His eyes opened, looking over at you. The look of regret and hurt was evident, "I'm so sorry," he said, barely moving. His body ached but his heart was aching more as he watched the expressions on your face change the more you noticed and pieced things together, "I should've told you but I was scared you'd get hurt."

"Peter, what should you have told me?" Your voice was betraying you, breaking and quivering as you attempted to be firm.

"I- I'm Spider-Man, I've always been. That's- Something happened tonight and I had to go help-"

"So you've been lying to me for 5 years now?"

He went silent and all he could muster was a small nod.

"You've been hiding this from me for 5 years? Peter - I - we tell each other everything. If you've been lying about this, then what else are you fucking lying about?"

The hurt in your voice was evident. It was more like betrayal, and distrust, and it wrenched his heart and gut. The silence lingered as you started piecing more and more together.

Five years. For five whole years, through your senior year of high school and the entirety of your college career, you spent attached at the hip to Peter Benjamin Parker - and he had been lying to you about a pivotal part of his life.

In hindsight, finding out Peter had been Spider-Man all this time made a lot of things make sense. Five years’ worth of last-minute cancellations, questionable excuses, black eyes, and bruises.

There was your senior prom. Aunt May was so excited that Peter and you were going together, she had always joked and wished the two of you would end up as more than friends. "Just memories for your wedding one day", she would say.

Everything leading up to prom was great. Peter went dress shopping with you, he got a tie to match the color of your dress, Aunt May made sure the two of you had a matching boutonniere and corsage, he even took you to and from your appointments the day of prom.

However, an hour into prom itself he had to leave hurriedly, frantically coming up with an excuse of not feeling good when moments prior you had just finished taking pictures and laughing at the cheesy poses.

That one stung, but you never admitted it, at least not to him. Peter had insisted you stay behind, spend time with other friends and he'd see you the next day. You're not even sure if he knows you left 20 minutes after he did, heartbreaking and feeling stupid for hoping Aunt May could be right.

The summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college was filled with last-minute cancellations.

Since you were kids, specifically since second grade every Friday night was movie night and a sleepover. Even as you grew into teenagers Aunt May and your parents worked out an arrangement they could both be comfortable with to let you two continue your little tradition. But that summer every single one was canceled or Peter would leave early.

For weeks you were convinced Peter no longer wanted to be friends with you, that somehow, some way you upset him and he hated you. Until a week before college started and he called you out of the blue for coffee and school shopping.

Suddenly, things seemed normal again. Aunt May's house was close enough that Peter would go home for the weekend, and you would usually just follow along for Friday and then head back to your dorm Saturday. You'd meet up to study a few times a week or go run errands together, you were even back to gaming together once a week.

So, you figured that Peter's sudden change in behavior could have been from his break up with Gwen. You knew he didn't take it easy when she ended things after finding out she was accepted into Oxford. You couldn't blame her really, but you weren't happy to see Peter's heart breaking. He talked about it some, but his eyes would always tell you more than he actually would.

Of course, Peter would bail occasionally throughout college, but a lot of it made sense. He forgot about a project due or was just plain tired from working part-time and doing school.

The part that never made sense though were the bruises and scratches. Peter always had an excuse; got hurt in the lab, fell skateboarding, hurt himself helping Aunt May. But at the end of the day, that's all they were; Excuses.

Peter reached out to you, the touch of his cold hand bringing you back from your racing thoughts. "I…I know I shouldn't have hid it, (Y/N), I'm sorry I did. There was so much going on, so many threats and I- I just didn't want you to get hurt. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you got hurt."

Tears began to prick your eyes, instantly jumping away from his touch, the feeling of dread and distrust sinking deeper into you with the singular move. "And what if you got hurt? How do you expect me to live with myself if you died?" Your voice was still shaky, fear now starting to fill in the gaps between each emotion.

Your eyes wandered to the towel he had tied around himself, blood beginning to seep through. "Peter," you reached for his arm but he grabbed your hand, stopping you and making you look him in the eyes.

"I'm okay, I promise. It'll heal quickly, just needed to stop the blood… I'll buy you a new towel." His voice was soft, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I'm not worried about the stupid towel, Peter." You sighed, "I- How could you have hidden this from me for so long?" You asked again, this time much more upset than angry.

Peter let out a shaky breath, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline and the full weight of his actions set in. "(Y/N), I mean it when I say I wanted to tell you," his voice was sincere, still holding onto your hand that had reached for his cut, "But I was more worried about your safety and making sure you wouldn't prioritize worrying about me over the rest of your life. The only person alive that knows is Harry. I never told anyone else, Aunt May doesn't even know."

It still hurt that Peter never told you, but it was starting to make sense, "How does Aunt May not know?"

Peter shrugged, offering you a soft chuckle, "You know she only sees and hears what she wants to. I never told her, but I'm also shocked she hasn't figured it out."

Peter gave you a look that made you know he was truly sorry, lower lip pouted out some, eyes big and wide, almost looking like a kicked puppy. "I know I have a lot to explain to you, and I know I need to rebuild your trust in me, but I need you to understand that I am really sorry for hiding it for this long. I've wanted to tell you since it all started, but I was told that it could put everyone around me in danger if they knew so I didn't want anyone to find out."

As much as you hated it, you did understand it. Giving him a soft nod, you let go of his hand instead of moving to rake your hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "I understand, but I don't like it."

"You don't like anything that doesn't go your way," he teased with a soft laugh, quickly earning a glare from you that made him laugh more. "I'll also explain everything once I'm not still soaked and healing." He said, motioning to his arm.

You nodded, "Did you wanna go take a shower? I can make some food or order takeout."

Peter thought for a moment then nodded. He unwrapped his arm, looking at the little scratch that was left behind from the wound he had not even 20 minutes prior. "Yeah, yeah let me go shower… do yo-"

"I'll put your clothes and a clean towel by the sink for you once you're in the shower. I'll also take your suit and the towel you have and throw it in the wash, okay? You just go get cleaned up while I find us some food."

Peter nodded, giving you a quick hug and kiss on the forehead before disappearing from your room. It took you a moment, immediately sitting down on the bed, attempting to process everything.

Your best friend of 15 years is Spider-Man. Your favorite person is your favorite superhero. Your best friend has lied to you to be able to go save people. Your best friend could have died, and has probably almost died countless times.

To say it was a lot to take in was an understatement.

You could hear the shower start running in the room next to yours, the sound thankfully pulling you from your spiraling thoughts and panic. As you moved through the apartment, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and collecting some spare clothes Peter had left behind at your place before, the emotions started to make sense.

Yes, it did hurt that Peter had hidden this, but his reasoning made sense. The hurt that you couldn't shake was how many times you could have lost him. He could have been dead on top of a skyscraper, no one able to discover his body with how high up he is, and you would've been none the wiser. Or if he died on the streets and eventually was unmasked you'd be left to mourn with the rest of the world instead of being able to process the loss of your other half in private. You'd be learning and losing so much so quickly. You'd be lost in a pool of emotions so chaotic it would make this moment seem calm.

Peter was back in your room about 20 minutes later, the pizza fresh out of the oven and sitting on the bed with you. You were looking at the TV, not really watching the forgotten movie you put on. As much as you tried to not let your thoughts continue to run wild, your brain didn't want to listen.

He moved the pizza to the closest surface and sat on your bed, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he saw the lost look on your face. Your mind felt like it was a broken record, spinning fast but on repeat.

"What's going through your head?"

There was no reason to reiterate the same thing you had told him earlier. You pulled off of him, sighing deeply before giving him a small smile, "A lot, but I'll be okay."

He nodded, "So… movie night? I definitely owe you one."

You nodded, looking up at the screen momentarily, your gaze being pulled to your phone as a new news alert popped up about Spider-Man. You didn't bother checking it, but you're brain did finally click the two puzzle pieces together fully that Peter is Spiderman.

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes and a slight pout, "You're fucking Spider-Man," your tone was accusatory which caught him off guard, a slow nod all he was able to offer before you continued, "You have let me tell you for years that I'm in love with Spider-Man. That I would marry this person I thought I'd never meet. That's so embarrassing!" You whined at the end.

Peter chuckled, a blush on his features and his hand going to mess with the back of his head. "Yeah… you finally realize that means you've been saying you're in love with me for like… 4ish years now?" He teased.

It was a joke. It was just banter which was typical for Peter. He was always teasing, playful, and borderline flirty with you. But that statement rang a little too true. You froze, movements and breath seemingly paused, and Peter quickly noticed that your heart rate quickened.

It wasn't the first time that happened around him. He's noticed countless times before how your skin would heat up and your heart rate would increase when he complimented you. He even noticed when he would do something, only sometimes accidentally, that would turn you on. Peter, not wanting to ruin your friendship or make you uncomfortable, never acted on it though.

"You okay, daisy?" It was a nickname he didn't use often, but one that he's called you forever. It held a special place for him, a reminder of some of his first memories of you - flower hair pins and daisy doodles all over your school papers. It was also a term that usually had you flustered and stumbling.

"You finally realize I've been in love with you longer than that?"

Now it was Peter's turn to freeze, taking a moment to make sure he heard you right. He watched as you squirmed some, re-situating yourself and pulling at your clothes, heart rate quickening and eyes avoiding his.

It made sense really, but he couldn't believe it. Peter has had a crush on you since your 5th-grade school dance where you wore a dress your parents let you pick out, so you were beaming with pride and excitement. He remembers you spending the night at Aunt May's after, staying up all night eating snacks and playing video games.

Every day since he's made himself believe there was no way you'd like him back. Peter believed you were far out of his league, and even if that wasn't true he was too scared of losing you to take the risk of pursuing something more.

"How long?" Maybe that wasn't the right response but he wanted to know, felt like he needed to know.

"Longer than I can remember," you responded, breath shaky, "I can't lose you, Peter… I - Spider-Man or not, I can't lose you. And you coming in tonight, wounded and dropping a massive secret like that on me - Peter, you really scared me. I love you and losing you would kill me."

"You're not gonna lose me," his voice was soft.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," you could feel the tears starting to form.

Peter moved to you, his large hands coming to cup your face and make you look at him. "I'm not making a promise I can't keep. You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not because of being Spider-Man, not ever."

He waited for you to blind away your tears, using his hands to squish your cheeks in an attempt to cheer you up a little. Once he got a soft laugh out of you, he broke out into a smile. "I love you," he said firmly, "I'm in love with you. I have been since we were kids." He confessed to you. "So I mean it, I'm not going anywhere."

Peter watched your eyes get wide as you processed what he said, feeling your skin heat up under his hands, "Can I kiss you?" His voice was soft and airy.

A slight nod was all he needed before he pressed his lips to yours. It was intense and soft and sweet, everything and anything all at once. Butterflies erupted from low in your belly and vibrated your chest. His chapped lips moved in sync against your bite-swollen lips, sending waves of electricity and emotions down your spine and through every nerve.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours as the both of you caught your breaths. His hands fell from your face, searching for your own hands. "I know I have a lot to explain, I have a lot of work to do to make you feel secure and know I'll be here, but I'll do whatever it takes, daisy, I promise."

She huffed out a small laugh, pulling away and nodding, "Thank you, Petey," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before pulling away fully, giggling at the almost shocked look he had on his face, "Looks like we both have a lot to get used to." Your gaze softened some, "No more secrets?"

Peter laughed as well, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips, presently multiple kisses to them. "No more secrets

#tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm peter x you #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #tasm!peter angst #my writing

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frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months

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7 Psychopaths: Seonghwa

x Summary: You are X, a seasoned assassin, and your boss has just assigned you an unusual task. You have two weeks to gather six men for a top-secret mission that requires their unique brand of psychopathy. The trick is, you've got romantic history with all of them.

A detail that might make this a walk in the park or the fight of your life. Time to find out...

x Pairing: assassin!seonghwa x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

x Genre: angst/crime au/smut

x Word Count: 1.8k-ish

x Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, some moments of deep/hard sex w/ scratching, sex in the desert cause danger is fun, pet names (baby), Hwa likes to talk dirty, fire, side character death via said fire, blood, teeth pulling w/ pliers, mini-explosion, a punch gets thrown, a lil enemies to lovers, strong language, tried to cover it all but lmk if anything's missing!

x A/N: This is #4 in a series of 6 stories featuring two members from TXT, two from ATEEZ, and two from Stray Kids. They all follow the same theme and can be read chronologically or you can jump around. I support the chaos.

Previous Psychopath: Wooyoung | Next Psychopath: Soobin | OR Start From The Beginning

The average adult has 32 teeth. 28 if they’ve had their wisdom teeth taken out. Seonghwa shoves a pair of pliers into the mouth of the man he has tied up in the trunk of a car, clamping the metal jaws around the first molar on the right side. The man’s screams are agonizing, his wrists and ankles fighting against the frayed rope as the root tears out of place. Seonghwa holds it in the red glow of the taillights, ignoring the blood soaked cries of his present company.

“You really should brush your teeth more'' he frowns, noting the plaque buildup on the bloody tooth before tossing it aside. “Don’t worry though. Once I’m done you won’t have any left to brush.” Seonghwa grabs him by the neck, shoving the pliers into his mouth as a mixture of spit and blood drips down the man’s chin. Gripping the next tooth in line, he rips it out much easier than the last and the screaming continues. 2 down, 30 to go.

If they were somewhere in the city Seonghwa might've done something to quiet him down. Duct tape his mouth shut. Shove a sock in there. But this is the desert, the absolute middle of nowhere, during a time when even the sun has abandoned them. There are no people for miles in either direction and any encounter with the other living creatures that stalk the desert night is sure to end in this man's death. Make no mistake. He will die either way but first, there’s business to attend to.

“You have the misfortune of having a lot of teeth,” Seonghwa grins, waving the pliers around with tooth number 4 wedged between metal, “Fortunately, I don’t have a lot of time so why don’t you tell me what I wanna know and we can go our separate ways.” “You…you’re gonna let me go?” the man blubbers, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Of course, I will.” A lie. “Don’t fuck with me, man!” “I’m not fucking with you.” Another lie. Seonghwa takes a seat on the edge of the open trunk, patting the man on the shoulder like they’re two old friends grabbing a beer. “I’ll let you go. I always keep my word.” The final lie. The biggest lie of them all.

But it works. In seconds the man confesses to Seonghwa, a sinner in search of forgiveness. He answers every question without pause. Spills the details of who hired him for the job that led to their paths crossing. Hell, he even starts in on his troubled childhood, going on about his mommy issues until Seonghwa can’t stomach his voice anymore. “Alright, well, thanks for that,” Seonghwa sings, hopping up and tossing the pliers into the trunk before walking out of view. “Hey! Where are you going?” the man shouts, wiggling towards the edge of the trunk.

Idling a safe distance away is Seonghwa’s car, soft white headlights illuminating the horizon as classical music flows from the radio almost too lightly to be heard. He pops the trunk, retrieving a 5 gallon gas canister. “Calm down, I’m coming back,” Seonghwa huffs, dragging himself back to the other car. The man’s eyes widen when he sees the canister, what little color is left in his pale skin drains to nothing. “No! You can’t do that! You gave me your word! You’re fucking crazy.”

Seonghwa digs a lighter out of his back pocket, flicking the top off of the canister with his thumb, “I know.”

You awaken from your slumber like a sweet baby angel to the gentle sound of orchestral music. The surface beneath you is the softest you’ve slept on in days and the blanket wrapped around you must be made of some luxurious fur because regular cotton could never feel this lush. You sit up, yawning, eyelashes fluttering, and wait for your vision to adjust. As the sleep wears off you suddenly notice how dry your throat is. Then there’s the pain. You bring your hand up to the side of your neck, touching the tender spot where you were injected with something, and it all comes back to you.

Woo. Seonghwa. They did this. Where are you? The driver’s side door swings open just as the pieces shift back into place. Nearby screams muffled by the crackling of a raging fire draw you in like a moth to a flame. There’s thumping inside the trunk of the other car. You’re too concerned about if you’re next to care who’s in there. “You’re up!” Seonghwa cheers, hopping into the car and turning to check the backseat where you’ve been passed out for hours. “How’s it going, baby?” “‘Baby’, my ass!” you shout, punching him in the face. You hate to hit something so pretty but he deserved it.

“You fucking drugged me!” Seonghwa holds his nose, tapping his foot to distract from the pain, “I did it for your own good.” “For my own good? You set me up. Where’s Woo? Son of a bitch.” Blinded by your anger, you storm out of the car, charging barefoot through the desert with the blanket still around you. Seonghwa chases after you, his head tilted back to avoid a nosebleed, “You can’t just walk around out here. You’re gonna get hurt!” “I’ll get hurt?” you scoff, turning back to launch another hit in his direction.

Seonghwa grabs you by the wrist, bringing an arm around your waist to hold you to him, “Look at me and tell me you think I’d ever bring harm to you.” The aching in your neck tells you not to trust him again but your heart won’t let you forget your shared history. All of the times he’s put his life on the line to protect you before. Whatever he’s done, there must be a reason. It better be a good one. Seonghwa lets out a sigh of relief as he senses your body has begun to relax. The fire behind him has doubled in size, making it impossible to ignore.

“Who’s in the trunk?” you ask, kissing the bridge of his nose right where your punch landed. It takes everything in him not to blush. “Someone that did want to hurt you but don’t worry. I hurt him first.” “What did he want with me?” “You’re joking, right?” he laughs, “There’s a trail of corpses behind you in the name of a mission no one knows anything about. They’re coming for you. You have to stop.” This was bound to happen. An occupational hazard. When you run around fucking shit up you draw attention to yourself and it’s never the good kind.

This is the life you signed up for though. Turning back isn’t an option. “You know I can’t do that.” “Yes you can,” he says, the pain in his voice undeniable, “I’ll keep them off of you as long as I can but once they get to me—” You kiss him, letting the blanket fall to your feet as you cup his face. “Don’t talk like that, Hwa. I won’t let them touch you. I promise.” The kiss heats up rapidly. The knowledge that you still care for each other deeply drives you into a breathless frenzy.

You tear at each other’s clothes. His hands traverse your curves, massaging your ass and thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Your everything. Before you know it you’re laid out over the pile of clothes, his tongue rolling across your nipple as he parts your thighs to stroke your pussy. Your throat might be dry but your pussy’s delectably wet. Seonghwa dips a finger into you, humming against a mouthful of your breast as he taps his thumb at your clit. The finger inside of you curls in just the right way to make your hips stutter.

“Mmm, is my girl ready for another one?” You shake your head, nails raking up and down his back, “Two. I want two more.” “Anything for you” he smiles, feeding his fingers into you one by one. He moves his wrist in slow circles, giving you that satisfying fullness in your belly, all the while stretching you in preparation for the cock he can tell you want so badly. You reach down to stroke his length and it jumps for you like an overexcited puppy happy to see its owner. You are its owner. No amount of time apart will change that. You’re the only woman who's ever been able to get him hard as steel and you know it.

“No more fingers. I want you to fill me up” you whisper, tugging at his hair. Seonghwa picks up the pace, fingering you faster just to hear you scream his name. Your hips raise off of the ground, walls locked around his fingers. He wiggles them free, using the hand dripping with your arousal to stroke himself as he aligns with your entrance. He comes up to kiss you, pushing into you until he bottoms out, turning you into a giggling mess.

Watching you has him falling in love all over again. “Fuck, I love it when you’re like this,” he says, lifting one of your legs up and pounding into you. Each thrust is so perfectly angled to please you that you can't even steady your hands enough to touch him. In fact, nothing about you is steady. Your entire body reacts to his, obeying commands without a word spoken. “Ooh, your little pussy’s pulsing. Ready to cum for me already?” he teases, bouncing you on his cock. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes…” your voice trails off, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as you crack under pressure.

Seonghwa pins you down harder, slowing down to feel every moment of your release. He may have his sadistic side but his heart never softens more than when he sees you happy. And knowing that he’s the reason why? It gets him every time. He cuddles you as you come down, only peeling his body away from yours when the sudden combustion of a gas tank startles the two of you. “Aww, isn’t that romantic?” he beams. “Romantic?” “Like fireworks.” You roll your eyes, scooching over to lay your head on his chest, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Despite the circumstances, laying here with him is the most peaceful night you’ve had since this all began. It feels almost normal enough to pretend you don't have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Seonghwa disrupts the delusion. Someone has to do it. “Nothing I say will make you back out of this mission, will it?” You sigh, drawing hearts in the sweat that slicks his chest, “No. I have to do this, with or without you and Woo, but I’d prefer with.” Seonghwa hugs you, kissing you on the forehead, “Then ‘with’ it is.”

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst #ateez angst #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez smut #ateez au

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suzukiblu · 7 days

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WIP excerpt for Jan; the Gotham Kid.

“Alright,” Pete says, then drops back down to the floor, rolls his shoulders back, and cracks his neck. “Mike, Lou, you’re going left. Vito, you’re on the right. Don’t worry about covering me. Kid–what the fuck’s your name, kid?”

K-i-d, Kid signs. Pete gives him a dry look.

“Very funny,” he says. “Alright, fine. ‘Kid’ it is. Kid, get your ass out there as soon as you see an opening and don’t get killed before you do something useful about it.”

yes, sir, Kid signs instead of bothering to waste time explaining it actually is his name, or at least the closest thing to one he’s got, and Pete snorts.

“Uh, boss–” the guy Pete called “Mike” starts, sounding wary. Lou and Vito are already drawing guns, looking resigned.

Kid finds out why about half a second later, because Pete throws open the bolt on the main doors and kicks them open into the faces of the bodies outside without another damn word before charging straight into them.

Okay, then, Kid thinks. That’s . . . an approach, yeah.

Admittedly, more planning was involved than Kid tends to use himself. But Pete probably isn’t bulletproof.

Kid doesn’t have time to figure it out either way, since Lou and Vito are already out the doors too and Mike is running after them with a string of curses.

“Kid, don’t be a–!” Candi starts to hiss warily. He doesn’t look back at her or anyone else in the building; just runs out too and slams the doors behind him.

And flips the bolt back shut with his TTK, too.

It is Clayface, apparently, because the bullet holes Pete just put in the lead guy’s face are full of clay, and so are the ones Lou and Vito put in the others’ chests. Mike yelps in alarm; Kid runs straight past him. If he gets shot, well–they won’t know the difference, as long as he hides any holes in his clothes.

Worst case scenario, it’s not like they’re from around here. Nobody’s got any reason to care what they say. And a lot of people out there are bulletproof, anyway. Nothing about getting shot a couple times and not dying from it is identifying information that’d ever leave Crime Alley anyway.

And Kid’s not even really bulletproof. He can just pretend to be.

He’s always pretending, after all.

“Jesus, boss!” Mike yells as Pete jams a taser into the clay-spattered mess of the guy in front of him’s face and fires it. All of the fake Falcones fall at once, thrashing and twitching, but only the first one screams.

And then they all collapse into roiling, thrashing brown clay, and start rippling and crashing towards each other. Lou nearly gets knocked off his feet and Vito goes down with a sharp, bitten-off curse, hitting his back on the gravel and concrete. Pete jams his taser into the nearest massive lump of clay as it lunges past him and it splatters everywhere.

Pete bares his teeth in a vicious, grim imitation of a grin, like an old habit he hasn’t quite shaken.

Superman’s memories tell Kid to expect something else from him, again, but that’s what he gets.

#jan #wip: the gotham kid

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sillypiratelife · 4 months

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Falling for zosan and namivivi because I am a sucker for parallels and relationships that are not what people would expect of them.

For example, I prefer when Zoro and Sanji don't get together because they are sexually attracted to each other, but because there is literally no real reason forcing them together but they choose to be together either way.

Why do they fight? Why each other?

There's nothing about fate or blind love in there.

Loving Sanji is a decision for Zoro. He picks Sanji. He decides he wants to tease Sanji and fight with him and offer to Sanji those parts of himself that no one else has seen. Zoro loves deliberately, with all his being. He knows what he's getting into and he accepts it, a promise made to last forever. He did the same with Kuina and Luffy, so it doesn't make sense to me to have a version of Zoro that loves romantically 'cause there's no other option. Remember when he preferred to die over denying his ambitions? Or all the times he has sacrificed himself expecting nothing in return? Or the fact he is praised for following no one he doesn't want to and nothing but what pleases him?

And Sanji can only choose to love Zoro. It'd be a fight with his traumas and the persona he created to keep the hurt at bay, you know, "the romantic cook that loves and lusts for women". It wouldn't be fair or pretty either if Sanji was forced into it. I'm not saying he can't be sexually attracted to Zoro —and I must clarify, for me Zoro is fully on the asexual spectrum— but ultimately, I think that Sanji would never dive on it if not fully conscious about what it entails. Sanji has a lot of issues he must start working on before involving himself in anything romantic or sexual with a man. It's the guilt? The shame? The way he represses himself and denies himself happiness? The way he thinks he needs to fake an easygoing persona so that others wouldn't worry? The self-loathing? Zoro sacrifices himself because that's his duty and he knows himself and his wishes— he'd die to be the best swordman and he'd die for Luffy to be the pirate king and he'd die for his crew. He doesn't wish death, tho. Sanji? His self-sacrificing is born out of suffering and self-deprecation. Loving Zoro would be a choice, no doubt.

With Nami and Vivi, it's that the circumstances make them perfect for each other, just to later keep them apart.

Vivi and Nami fit together. It took Nami one single night and she knew she'd sacrifice anything— that they would sacrifice anything to help Vivi. Nami saw her own fear and loneliness and guilt and desperation reflected in the way Vivi made her lip bleed from her bite while the Igaram ship was on fire. They were "cursed" to survive. To fight and struggle and survive, because no one else could face Arlong or Crocodile. Little girls —kids, then teenagers— sailing to a world of crime where they got claimed by the organizations they hated the most, the one they wanted to tear down because they were hurting their home. Young attractive teen girls who turned their bodies into weapons to distract and surprise their enemies so they could have a chance to defeat them.

Girls who know what it's like to smile when you want to break down, what it's like to kneel out of frustration and scream and feel useless helpless.

The strawhat girls were to fucking hell as mere children and got out of there walking, okay?

What allowed the princess and the burglar to find companionship within the other were those things like the trauma of being the only one who could reclaim back their home or the fear of being alone against a situation bigger than themselves. Being honest, I'm not sure if they'd have clicked without it. In the end it's a bit funny, isn't it? Alabasta is the reason Vivi met the strawhats and the reason why she can't sail to go on adventures with them. In fulfilling the promise of saving Alabasta, Nami made it so that Vivi wouldn't be able to leave with them. Well, she could, but not really. Vivi is a good princess and she wouldn't abandon her people = her country.

Vivi suffered for being a rich princess, but saved herself + her people 'cause they underestimated how influential and powerful she could be. On the other hand, Nami suffered for being a poor no one first, then for being too important for Arlong to discard, yet they never expected that Nami would have so many people willing to fight for her.

Like a moth to flame, a girl reflected on water.

Vivi and Nami are an echo of each other, one that rings clear and true across the seas. For me, there could be no one else for them. Who else would get it? Who else could understand what they can't explain? What they've lived through? Who held Vivi and swore it'd be okay that night at Whiskey Peak? Who took care of Nami when she was at death's door with fever for days? All the moments become a giant picture with them at the center of it. There's no one else. It couldn't be.

#zoro and luffy are queerplatonic to me and they deserve their own posts #no romantic no platonic but a secret third option (an aroace relationship between a captain and his first mate)#ANYWAY #shan blogs about one piece!#one piece anime #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zosan #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #vivi nefertari #namivivi #vivinami

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blueraineshadows · 2 months

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Blood Bound Part Five

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian heads into the unknown to break MC out of Azkaban. MC struggles to adjust to the outside world. Leander descends deep underneath London to scope out the illegal duelling ring.

15k words. Tags: NSFW / threat / blood / violence / angst / unresolved sexual tension / torture / organised crime / PTSD / anxiety

Chapter Master List and AO3

Mutuals taglist at the end 💖✨️

Five: The Prince, the Villain, and the Maiden Fair

Sebastian

Looking at the map Black Dahlia had made one last time, Sebastian was fairly confident that he could find his way through the corridors of Azkaban towards MC's cell. The hum of anticipation throbbed through him as he folded the parchment, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and touched his fingers to the blood amulet. Clenching his jaw, he glanced across to where Rosier stood waiting, dressed all in black like him, a serious expression on his pretty face.

He was going to get MC. This time, when he arrived at the cell door, she would be real and not a phantom in a memory.

“I'm ready when you are, mate,” Rosier said, holding out his hand.

Sebastian nodded, reaching out to grasp Rosier along his lower arm, and Rosier grasped him the same way. Their eyes met, an acknowledgement passing between them that they were about to travel into a highly dangerous and horrific place, breaking Wizarding law to bring out a convicted prisoner.

“Let's go,” Sebastian said firmly, his stomach twisting viciously as he visualised the reception chamber from the memory and Disapparated them both with a crack.

The first thing that struck Sebastian was the chilling oppressiveness, his stomach catching up from the long distance Apparition as he stumbled into existence inside the Auror reception chamber, Rosier catching his breath beside him. As his eyes swung about the room, recognising it from the pensieve memory, he shivered at the utter desolation and icy chill that crept up his neck.

“Well, this is nice,” Rosier huffed, ruffling his hair as he gazed around. “I love what they have done with the place.”

Throwing Rosier a dark look, Sebastian stepped up to the signing in book on the counter, his finger brushing over the column of entries written by Prewett. He had been here nearly every day for the last few weeks, the last entry only yesterday. Adrenaline was pulsing through Sebastian, his hands curling into fists as he turned his gaze towards the door that led into the prison proper.

“Have your wand at the ready,” he said quietly, slipping his own out. “Those Dementors will likely be on us straight away.”

“Have you ever come up against one before?”

Sebastian swallowed as he looked at his partner in crime and shook his head. “No, but I’ve practised the Patronus charm plenty enough,” he said, gripping the handle of his wand tightly. “I hope you have, too.”

Rosier’s blue eyes darkened with a memory, and his gaze flicked down. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m up against. Dementors came for my father. I was just a kid, but I’ll never forget it.”

The leaden ball of grief that Sebastian carried in his own chest tugged sharply as he took in the shadows on Rosier’s face. He knew what it was like to lose a parent so young. He nodded and turned his gaze back towards the door, lifting to pat his hand against Rosier’s back in a gesture of understanding.

“We get to the cell, get MC out, and then we get the fuck out of this place. Alright?”

“This girl better be worth it, mate. That’s all I can say,” Rosier said, readying himself.

Sebastian felt his throat constrict, his eyes hardening. “Trust me. She is worth it.”

The frigid weight of despair grew heavier as they walked swiftly down the corridor, the fire sconces casting flickering shadows in their wake as they approached MC’s wing, the distant mournful screams of those trapped here making Sebastian’s heart thud rapidly beneath his ribs. Trying to shut out the sounds became almost impossible as they entered the colossal prison wing, barred cell doors offering unsettling glimpses into life here that he tried to avert his eyes from.

Above their heads swooped the tattered robes of the guards, the chilling rattle of their death breaths spurring Sebastian on quicker, his own breathing harsh and tight as two Dementors broke free from their pack and rushed downwards towards him and Rosier.

“Expecto Patronum!” Rosier cast, his arm thrust upwards, a burst of white erupting from his wand in a swelling arc. The Dementors hesitated, retreating back towards the high ceiling, their shifting shapes being swallowed in the darkness beyond.

“It’s not much further,” Sebastian muttered, already looking forward to getting out of here. He held the back of his hand against his nose, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of abandoned humans. The true horror of Azkaban was laid bare as his boots scraped against the dark stone, eyes checking the numbers above the doors until he came to the one he needed, and he slowed his step.

“Is this it?” Rosier asked quietly.

A rasping chuckle sounded from the darkness, and Sebastian glanced to the opposite side of the corridor, the gnarled hands of an old crone grasping the iron bars of her door. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her, repulsed by the gaping maw of her mouth and the filth of the ragged prison garb she wore. This one had been here a long time and was still clinging to mortality by a thread of madness.

“Merlin’s bollocks,” Rosier hissed, flinching back. He visibly shivered, and the woman cackled even louder. “That ain’t her, is it?”

“Don’t be a twat,” Sebastian scowled, grabbing Rosier by the front of his coat and shuffling him away from the crone and towards MC’s door.

He was impatient to see her, desperate to get her out of here, his guilt making the oppression feel thicker than it had any right to be. With his heart in his mouth, he stepped up to the cold iron bars of her door and peered into the gloom, his eyes sweeping the cell. A slight crease formed on his brow as there appeared to be no sign of her.

“MC,” he whispered, taking hold of a bar of the door and gasping as it swung on its hinges. It was unlocked.

Stomach plummeting, icy fear prickling the back of his neck, he yanked the door open and stepped into the cell, calling her name louder, but the room was empty. It was impossible. Panic gripped his throat, and he darted back out to check the cell number again, certain it was the right place. Tugging out the piece of parchment, he double-checked the details, his chest so tight his breathing sounded too loud to his own ears. He was in the right place.

“What’s going on?” Rosier asked, his eyes glancing up and down the corridor nervously, his throat bobbing.

“She should be here!” Sebastian said, returning to the cell as though MC would have appeared in the seconds he had been gone, but the room remained stubbornly empty. A bucket and a mug stood on the floor, and on a stone ledge, next to a dirty blanket, was a small glass potion bottle, the stopper discarded beside it. “Where is she?”

Rosier shrugged, glancing around the cell himself, the cold squalor of it making his cheeks paler than usual. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes,” Sebastian snapped, his fingers wrinkling the parchment as he felt his fear shift into fury. His cheeks flushed with it, eyes so dark they glittered as he strode out of the cell. “If that bitch, Black Dahlia, has tricked us, then she is going to die a very slow and painful death.”

Rosier was close on his heels, worry creasing his brow as he glanced up at the gathering interest above their heads. “Seb, we need to hurry up,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here.”

Grabbing at his hair in frustration, Sebastian realised that he couldn’t even search the prison in case she had been moved to a different cell. It made him almost choke. MC could be anywhere in this vast tomb of horror, and he had neither the time or the resources to hunt for her.

Fear and fury twisted together and he felt like screaming, the burn of it choking up his throat as he swung his arm out, wand lighting up and blasting a huge ball of fire down the corridor in his rage. The prisoners screamed and yelled, the clanging sound of tin cups on bars filling the air and the rasping, maddening cackle of the crone in her cell.

Ignoring Rosier’s attempts to calm him down, Sebastian rounded on the scrawny hag, his eyes narrowing. She stared at him through the bars, her eyes lit with gleeful madness.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” she crooned, wheezing with delight, her withered frame shaking with mirth. “All these pretty boys after the maiden fair.”

Sebastian stalked towards her, his wand up. The old bitch didn’t even flinch, her eyes pale and glowing with mischief as she eyed him. “Where is the girl from the cell opposite?” He demanded.

Her toothless grin was hideous, and his fingers flexed on his wand, his rage searing through his blood. MC had been within his grasp, and now she had been plucked out of thin air. Gone.

“Tell me!” He yelled. “Where did she go?”

“Bloody hell, mate, easy,” Rosier said, stepping up beside him. “How is she going to know? She’s fucking insane. Look at her.”

The hag tittered, her gnarled fingers clutching excitedly at her bars. “Every maiden fair must have a prince to rescue her,” she rambled. She began to sway, her smile almost idiotic. “But, princes and men can be fickle. He left her, made her scream like he’d torn her heart asunder.”

“What does that mean?” Sebastian demanded, his breaths now shuddering into his lungs. “Who left her?”

She went quiet, her eyes sly as she peered through the bars, her mouth curving into a wicked grin. “This one is jealous. Perhaps he is the villain here. He wants her for himself, but the prince came and took her away.”

Prewett’s name written in the book flashed up behind Sebastian’s eyes. Along with the memory from the pensieve and the sound of Prewett’s name on MC’s lips with that desperate look in her sunken gaze. Teeth clenching so tight it hurt, Sebastian’s fury seemed to flicker in front of his eyes. The very thought of Leander Prewett whisking MC away from under his nose like a knight on a white horse made his blood boil. That wasn’t how things were meant to be.

Why would he take MC out of here? It didn't make sense.

This pathetic witch and her fairy tale taunts were too much, his jealous temper flaring in a white, hot spark that fizzed down his arm as he thrust his wand towards her. Her eyes screamed of madness, and it curdled his blood, the need to expel the horror made the curse burst from his lips.

“Crucio!”

Her howls of pain filled his ears, her skeletal face grotesque as she reeled back from the door, clattering to the floor like a bag of bones as red sparks flickered in the darkness. He waited for the satisfaction to come, but it didn't. The sight of the wretch bucking and screaming did nothing to ease his horror or his fury. Inflicting agony on this pathetic creature wouldn't bring MC back here, and yet he held the curse on her, trying to syphon out his pain.

Those he loved kept being stolen from him, and he wasn't sure how many more times he could take it.

“Bloody hell!” Rosier grabbed him, trying to pull Sebastian’s wand arm back. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian had lost sense of what was going on around him, his fury so thick and hot that he shoved Rosier back, slamming his hand against cold iron with a scream of rage. “Who took her? Where is MC?”

Gasping and drooling, the old crone trembled and clawed at the stone floor, her eyes rolling as she made guttural moans of pain despite the curse no longer holding her. Sebastian’s lip was curled in disgust, his eyes blazing whilst his heart seemed to squeeze behind his ribs. It felt like it had been drained bloodless. How could MC not be in her cell? How could she have left this place without him knowing about it?

A cold thought entered his head, wiping out his fury in an instant, and he stilled, eyes horror struck as he glanced back at MC’s cell.

Was she dead?

Immediate denial slammed through him, but he bent forward, unable to draw breath as the possibility refused to be quieted. He winced as his knees hit the hard stone, all colour draining from his face as he shook his head. Desperate now, he grabbed the bars of the hag’s door, his breathing shallow.

“Did she walk out of here?” He asked, his voice switching to pleading now. “Please, tell me she walked out. She can’t be…no. She isn’t dead. I would know.”

His hand fumbled into his pocket, fingers caressing over the bloodstone amulet, seeking reassurance. Surely, if MC were to be dead, the stone would cease to hold true to the pact. It would shatter into pieces, no longer useful or functional. Much like his heart if he ever lost her.

The hag turned her head, her bloodshot eyes fixing on him with a stare that made him feel even colder, goosebumps shivering along his arms and up his neck. Her mouth worked as she tried to speak, her chin slick with drool and blood where she had smashed her face when she fell. To Sebastian’s horror, she began to laugh. A rasping, gurgling chuckle that escalated into screeching howls of mad cackling, her head thrown back as she clutched at her wasted midriff.

Strong hands gripped him under his arms, hefting him upwards. “For fuck sake, Sallow. Get up!” Rosier berated, pulling Sebastian up to his feet. “We’ve got to run. Now!”

Recoiling from the mad wretch in her cell, Sebastian forced himself to look up, his eyes widening at the gathered mass of Dementors circling above them. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Come on,” Rosier said, pulling on his arm, his wand raised upwards. “Run, for Merlin’s sake!”

They ran, boots thudding on the stone as the other cells passed by in a blur, their breaths beginning to mist from the spreading ice of the Dementors presence. Wraiths began to swoop downwards, and the terrifying rattle of their breathing sounded loud in their ears. Sebastian saw the door to the Auror’s chambers and grabbed Rosier by the arm, hauling him towards it. He felt the brush of tattered robes ghost near his ear, and he ducked, turning swiftly on the spot and jabbing his wand upwards.

With a fierce glare on his face, he allowed his mind to fill with memories of better days, soft dreamy images of his friends at school, Anne running through the fields in Feldcroft with her hair wild about her rosy cheeks. He thought of nights secreted away in the Undercroft with a good book and even better company, summers with his parents sailing on the lochs, and the addictive taste of kisses with the girl who had stolen his soul at the sweet age of sixteen.

Better times, happier times, before the darkness had come to claim him.

“Expecto Patronum!”

The spell burst from his wand with such force he had to clamp two hands around it to hold it steady, the brilliant swell of white light filling the corridor and pressing the Dementors back. As the black wraiths spiralled upwards and away, chased by the white phantom of a leaping fox, Sebastian began to step backwards into the doorway. Rosier watched his Patronus charm with a look of awe on his face, the light of the magic reflecting in his blue eyes.

Slamming the door of the reception chamber open, Sebastian came to a stop before the long counter, bracing his hands against it whilst he caught his breath. Rosier gasped beside him, shaking his head as he planted his hands on his thighs.

“Get us out of here,” he panted. “I am done.”

Sebastian nodded, his gaze catching on the wooden boards hung on the wall opposite him, all the prisoner numbers and their images on display. Eyes moving swiftly, he came to where MC’s prisoner board should have been in the order of cell numbers, and his stomach turned to lead. The board was missing. A blank space with just an iron peg jutting from the stone. She really was gone.

Dragging the heavy signing-in book towards him, he looked at the last two entries for her prisoner number. Harrington and Prewett, and then Prewett again yesterday. If anyone knew where she was, it was going to be Leander. His eyes narrowed in thought. It was time to have a little chat with Andrew Larson. He needed to get to Leander and fast.

Taking hold of Rosier’s arm, he nodded and then Disapparated them out, his feet landing on the wooden floorboards of the small room in the Black Rose that he shared with Rosier. With a flick of his wand, he lit the lamp, pushing back the darkness, craving some warmth and normality after the dark oppression of the prison. Slumping in relief and defeat, Sebastian sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. How had it gone so horribly wrong?

Rookwood was going to be furious. They had risked their necks going into that prison, and they had come out empty-handed. Solomon had always said he would amount to nothing, and no doubt would side with Ominis and Anne over his choice of companions lately, but to fuck up at something like this. Solomon would be laughing from his grave, no doubt.

“I always knew you would end up a failure, boy.”

Shuddering at the darker memories of his childhood struggles, Sebastian shoved them away, his insecurities starting to eat into him. His fury now dissipated, Sebastian felt the ball of grief in his chest swell, and he swallowed through it, rubbing his face at the loss of MC all over again.

“What the fuck was that all about back there, Seb?” Rosier asked, still getting his breath back. “You cast Crucio on that crone, and for what? She was crazy, talking about a load of rubbish. Why get so mad?”

Sebastian glanced up at Rosier, once again lamenting his need to keep the man at arms length. When people knew too much, they became a liability, and he rather liked Leo. Losing his temper back at the prison had revealed his hand, and he mulled over his words as he looked up at his camp mate.

“It was fucked up,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I will be lucky if Rookwood doesn't torture my own arse the same way for failing.”

Rosier studied him, slowly taking a seat on the twin bed opposite Sebastian, drumming his fingers on the faded bedspread.

“This girl, this MC. Just what, exactly, does she mean to you, Seb?” He asked, drawing his lower lip into his mouth thoughtfully. “You lost your shit when you realised she was gone, and when you mentioned her being dead, you were as white as a sheet. How would you know if she was dead? What's going on? There's more to this, isn't there?”

Sebastian pressed his fingers to his lips, eyeing Rosier with a sinking realisation that he had definitely revealed too much. He had managed to deflect his questions in the Leaky Cauldron, but Rosier was as smart as a whip, and Sebastian wouldn't be able to fool him for long. With a sigh, he let his hands drop between his thighs, his expression one of defeated exhaustion as he looked at Rosier. He was tired, so very tired of feeling alone.

“She means something to me,” he confessed. “I thought I was going to get her back tonight, and yet her cell was empty. After four long years of waiting, I feel like I just lost her all over again.”

Rosier closed his eyes and nodded, glancing down at his booted feet for a moment before speaking. “Does Rookwood know?”

“He probably suspects,” Sebastian admitted. “I've never openly talked about it, only that I know her.”

“And Lulu?” Rosier lifted his gaze to Sebastian, his eyebrows lifted in enquiry about the beautiful witch.

Sebastian groaned and shook his head. “She hasn't heard a thing from me about MC, so if she knows anything, it's whatever her father has told her.”

“Merlin’s beard, Seb. You walk a tight line, don't you?” Rosier smirked. “I've always had the feeling you've got deep secrets. But, I never realised just how close to the edge you walked with Rookwood. Withholding information, fucking his daughter on the sly…are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Sebastian matched Rosier’s smirk and shrugged. “What's life without a little adventure?”

“You're a slippery bastard, Sallow,” Rosier huffed, shaking his head. He pushed his fingers through his blonde hair and smiled. “I won't say anything about your prisoner girl. I have to say, though, I'm rather looking forward to meeting her. All this excitement surrounding her, she sounds like fun.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “You'll be keeping your hands to yourself, Rosier,” he warned. “Not only do I know where they've been, it would be a shame to hex them. They are rather useful in a scrap.”

Rosier laughed, falling back onto his bed and holding his hands up. “I swear to all gods known to man, I won't make a play for her.”

“Then I guess we can remain friends,” Sebastian smirked, laying back on his own bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

A quiet settled over the room as both men processed the last hour or so, shadows of darker memories trying to creep into Sebastian’s thoughts, the echo of the old crones screams pressing on his conscience.

“MC means that much to you, and yet wasn't she serving time for doing your uncle in?” Rosier asked, turning to look at him.

Sebastian worried at his lower lip, keeping his gaze fixed upwards as he thought about Solomon and his cruel mouth, his swinging fists, and unforgiving eyes.

“My uncle was a mean bastard,” Sebastian said flatly. “MC was the only one who really understood.”

She had understood, and she remained at his side. She had bled for him, lied for him, and she had spent four years in that chilling nightmare of a place for him. Seeing the reality of Azkaban and remembering the image of her in that pensieve memory, the leaden ball in his chest that held his guilt and grief seemed to spread into every fibre of his being. Had he really done enough to help her? Her sacrifices were huge in comparison to his efforts to save her, and it weighed heavily on him, his fingers caressing the scar on his palm.

That old hag had called him a villain of MC's story, and Sebastian had retaliated by hitting her with the Cruciatus curse. A curse he had cast on MC in the Scriptorium in order to save himself. Maybe he was the villain of her life, and the thought was not a comfortable one. Next to him, Prewett would be a knight in shining armour, a prince coming to save the maiden fair.

“So, she killed him for you?” Rosier asked. The question hung heavy in the air, rather close to the bone in truth. She didn't take Solomon down, but she took the fall. She did it for him.

“I owe her everything, Leo,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “I've got to find her. Whatever it takes.”

“Then we find her,” Rosier said with finality. “What's the plan? Are we still going to track this Auror down that you knew?”

“That's top of the list,” Sebastian said, determination darkening his gaze. “Prewett knows where she is. His name was in that prison ledger, inked by his own fucking hand, and that nasty crone pretty much told us that MC left with a man. It was him. I know it was.”

“Then that's what we'll do. As long as Rookwood doesn't kill us first.”

Sebastian threw Rosier a smirk as he adjusted the lumpy pillow under his head. “I'd like to see him try. He talks a big game, but I reckon I could take him easily enough. He'd be too scared to get his gentleman's coat dirty in a real fight. That's why he has men like Carrow around to do the hard work.”

Rosier chuckled. “Do you reckon you could take Carrow?”

Sebastian’s grin split his face, his eyes gleaming at the thought. “You're looking at a duelling champion here, mate. I take great pleasure in bringing down bastards like Carrow. I took Prewett down a few times during the duelling matches we used to fight. He might have passed the Auror Program, but I could still take him on.”

The villain against the white knight. He had never wanted to be a villain. He wanted to be the one MC needed. He would rather be her white knight than bring any more darkness into her life. The shadows of their secrets probably made that impossible, so if he had to, he would take on the darker role. He knew that he would do whatever it took to get her back, especially now, no matter how dark.

For once, Sebastian wanted the villain to win the maiden fair, his chest aching at the absence of MC. They could rewrite the trope. Together. She should have been here with him tonight, beside him, where he could hold her close. Whether for her comfort or his own, he wasn't sure who needed it more.

Everything was so clean and bright that her eyes burned in their sockets, her trembling fingers shielding them from the glare of the real world. There were no screams here, no sobbing and wailing, no banging of cups against cold iron. There was just peaceful quietness, the soft sound of the breeze outside the window, and the distant chirp of a bird singing their joy. A fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth that felt like an inferno compared to the cold stone of Azkaban, and yet still MC shivered.

The room she stood in was charming. A picture-perfect image of a country cottage, with an inglenook fireplace and a bowl of fruit on the table. There was a high backed armchair near the fire, similar to those found in the common room, and a settee with deep cushions. Leander had called it a safe house, and she wondered how true that was. It did look soft and warm, inviting, and yet she stood there almost recoiling from it all.

She felt out of place, fractured, like she had wandered into someone else's dreams, and she did not belong. The soft rug beneath her filthy feet was a strange sensation, her toes curling experimentally into what felt like a guilty pleasure. Eyes brimming with tears from the overwhelming emotions swarming in her chest, MC looked up at the man standing next to her, his fingers slipping from her elbow where he had held her to Apparate.

How strange to look at Leander now and be wary of his proximity, and yet she also craved for him to be close, to stand right beside her so that he could hold her up should her wobbling knees buckle. It was dangerous to be so dependent on a person. She used to pride herself on being able to stand against whatever life threw at her, but her eyes were drawn to the tall Auror who had whisked her out of captivity, fearing that he might vanish at any moment and leave her lost and alone. Feeling this fragile had her slamming her walls up out of habit, but there were no Dementors here.

She was no longer in Azkaban. She was free.

The sight of Leander at her cell door after the way he had left her had set her pulse flying, hardly daring to believe he was really there after the way he had said goodbye to her, leaving her screaming for him at her cell door. When he had placed the release parchment into her hands, she had stared at the inked words, trying to make sense of this new turnaround to events. Her cold demand to Harrington in the questioning chamber had earned her freedom, her answers enough to revoke charges and reduce her sentence. The details of the probation seemed like child’s play compared to the horror one faced within the walls of that prison, and she had signed the papers immediately, ignoring the offer of twenty four hours to think about it. What was there to think about? Why stay another day in that hell when she could be free?

Now, though, now that she was out of the dark walls of oppressive cold, she felt the urge to seek out more darkness. It was as though the light would burn her, expose her, and leave her vulnerable. Would her mental walls of protection work out here? Who were her enemies now that she had escaped the malice of the Dementors?

How at ease Leander looked in these lovely surroundings, how neat his clothes, his pretty copper hair shining in the sunlight filtering through the window. Tall, with wide shoulders and slim hips, long graceful fingers, his pale skin sprinkled with dozens of freckles. He stood with confidence, sure of his place in the world, and she envied him. Where did she fit now?

“A Healer will be along shortly to take a look at you. Make sure you are alright,” he said with a soft smile. “There are clean clothes for you in the bedroom and a bath so that you can get cleaned up. The store cupboard is stocked so you won’t go hungry. Would you like me to make you something?”

MC stared at him, her arms wrapped around her midriff as she trembled on the pretty rug, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under her feet. In the last 24 hours she had been strapped into a chair and questioned, and then he had left her, leaving her sobbing on her cell floor thinking she would be alone in the dark again, and then the appearance of the strange woman in the hooded cloak that had made her question her sanity.

Now, she was here, with him. He had pulled her out of that darkness, bringing her to an image of domestic bliss. His calmness grated on the frayed edges of her nerves. The choking maelstrom of emotions in her chest seemed to fizz through her veins, and she clenched her hands into fists, her face contorting into fury. The smile slipped from his lips as she glared at him.

“Give me my wand,” she hissed, her eyes glowing with fire. “I don’t care about the stocked cupboard and your bath, I just want my wand.”

Leander paled, licking his lips as he moved towards her, his hands out. “Your wand isn’t here. It’s still in secure lock up at the Ministry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, MC.”

Finally, she moved, backing up away from him. Her eyes darted to the side as she sought an exit route, the over stimulation making her mind scream for quiet darkness. “Save your apologies,” she spat, her adrenaline making her shakes become more pronounced as she skirted the settee. His hands reached out again, and she flinched away. “Don’t touch me!”

If he touched her, she would crumble, and she was barely holding up the walls of her defences as it was. It was all so surreal, so outlandish and wrong. She needed her wand. She needed security.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t touch you,” he said, holding his hands up. “But you need to calm down. You are safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you, and this house is warded so nobody can get in or out without permission.”

“So, I am just as much a prisoner here as in Azkaban?” She screeched, her eyes becoming wider, filled with desperate panic. The notion that this might be a trap entered her head, and now she couldn’t shake it, her heart hammering so fast she thought she might pass out. “I can’t do this. I need to get out.”

In her haste to escape, she bumped her leg against a side table, making the lamp there wobble precariously. She stumbled, catching herself on the arm of the settee. She pulsed with the need to flee, to run, to hide. Never would she have imagined that she would miss her cell, but right now, it was the only sanctuary she could think of, encased in the dark walls.

“Where are you going?” He asked, hurrying around the back of the settee to cut her off.

“Away from you,” she ground out, reaching to grab a cushion from the settee, the soft plushness of it a shock to her hands. The urge to squeeze it was almost like an ache, but she ignored it, heaving the cushion towards Leander’s head as she scrambled in the opposite direction to him.

Of course, he caught it, tossing it aside as he hurried after her. Her feet thudded across the wooden floor towards a door, her hands grabbing for the handle, but she was infuriatingly weak, and he caught up to her easily. To his credit, he didn’t touch her. He just slammed his hands against the door to prevent her from opening it, his body towering over hers and effectively pinning her against the wood.

“Please, don’t run from me,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I would never hurt you, MC. I meant it when I said that.”

Panting, her trembling frame pressed up against the door, she refused to look up at him. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands wrapped around the door handle. Her legs were shaking so badly she feared she would fall, her ears roared with her pulse and she felt the tell tale sting of tears behind her eyes.

“You lied,” she rasped. The walls around the cavern in her chest cracked, a whimper leaving her lips as she sagged against the door, her fingers bone white with her grip around the handle. “You left me.”

Leander’s hands slid slowly from the door, and he backed up, her eyes blinking up towards him and catching the look of devastation on his face, his soft lips parted. He shook his head in denial, his gaze one of sad regret. “You will never know how hard it was to walk away from you like that.”

MC squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear that softness, that look on his face that sent tendrils of warmth around her ribs, seeking a way in. She couldn’t let him in, not again. He had walked away, and left her feeling so hollow. Her pride was a broken thing, her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts, and there was still too much light in the room.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, she twisted the door handle and pulled the door open to reveal the well stocked food larder. The irony was not lost on her as she stared at tins of food, a basket of bread sat on a shelf, and herbs were hanging from hooks along the far wall. She huffed a laugh of disbelief at the sight, a cracked chuckle that quickly shifted into tears that scalded her cheeks as they leaked from her eyes.

“MC…”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she sobbed, bringing her hands to her face.

Gentle hands on her shoulders had her turning on the spot, the firmness of his chest pressed against her cheek as his arms enveloped her, holding her in an embrace that dissolved the rest of her defences. Her fingers curled into his waistcoat, her tears leaking into the snowy whiteness of his shirt as she breathed in his scent, something that was becoming so familiar to her.

“You won’t be doing this alone,” he assured her, his hands sliding up the length of her spine until he was cupping the back of her head. “I’m your probation Auror, remember? And I think we both know that this has become more than just a job to me, MC. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The ancient power that slumbered in her veins meant that she didn’t really need anyone to protect her. If anything, she was more dangerous than the worst of the Ashwinders once she had a wand in her hand. But, for now, she let Leander hold her and tell her that she would be safe. He took her hand and led her to another door, opening it to reveal a bedroom beyond. He paused in the doorway and nodded for her to go in.

“I’ll let you get yourself sorted out,” he said, his hand lingering on hers before he stepped back. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything. Alright?”

Backing into the room, she stared up at him. The risks he had taken, the kindness he had shown, it was more than any other Auror would have done for her. It was true. This was more than just another assigned job for him. Again, she was reminded of how dangerous it was to become close to him. How addictive his warmth was becoming, and whilst craving just that, she was also wary of it.

As the door clicked shut, her hands and forehead pressed against it, a stifled moan of grief tried to escape her lips. She didn’t even know what she was grieving for, but she felt so empty, so heavy and yet faded, like she would drift away into nothing.

Turning, she gazed around a bedroom, just as cosy and warm as the main room. There was a double bed made up with white sheets and thick blankets, and a vase of flowers sat on the bedside table beside a stack of books. Light bathed the space through a window that looked out across fields, the gentle roll of hills in the distance. She had no idea where she was. She could be anywhere.

Gasping in her breaths, she hurried to the window and gripped the floral curtains, yanking them closed to block out the light. The room darkened, but it wasn’t enough. Tight panic gripped her chest again, and she dived for a shadowed corner beside a wardrobe, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. Shivering and gasping, she pressed her forehead to her knees and bit back her scream, tears flooding her eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t as free as she first thought. The darkness still held her in its grip, and Leander could only do so much to hold her shadows at bay.

….*....

Stomach hollow with hunger, and her eyes tight and raw from tears, MC sat on the seat before the dressing table and stared at her reflection. The girl who stared back was a stranger. In the dim light of the room, her pale skin looked ghostly, drawn tight over the jut of her bones. Her hair was long and lifeless, but it was her eyes that chilled her the most. She recognised them as her own, but the haunted darkness that dwelled in them spoke of loneliness and loss. The girl she once knew was long gone.

She looked down at her hands, her fingers so pink and clean, the skin puckered like dried fruit from soaking in warm bath water for so long. It had taken three baths to get her clean. The first left the water so black she'd climbed out almost straight away. By the third, she had just sunk under the warmth of the rose scented water, waiting for the comforting feeling to seep into her bones, but it didn't.

After the fire of her tantrum earlier, she now felt numb. She had cried until her chest had hurt, rocking back and forth, her fingers tracing constantly over the scar on her palm. At last, her memories could flood her mind, no longer at risk from being sucked away by the Dementors kiss. Her longing to look upon Sebastian one more time was joined by the fear that he wouldn't even know her, that he had moved on with his life and she was just some girl he used to know.

There was no one else in the world to wait for her. She had no family, and she was sure her friends from Hogwarts would want nothing to do with a murderer. Sebastian was the only one who knew her truth. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture him, the boy she knew.

Sighing softly, she shook her head and looked into the mirror again. No longer a child, she was a woman, and Sebastian would be a man. No doubt he looked different now, perhaps taller and stronger, like Leander. She imagined he was just as handsome, though. Four years was a long time, and she wondered if he had found love with someone new.

Could she blame him if he had? The years stolen from them stretched out like a lifetime. Surely, he would be a different person now, just as she didn’t recognise the girl staring back at her in the looking glass.

Pushing the thought aside before she began to cry again, she stood, smoothing her hands down the front of the pale blue blouse she had chosen from the wardrobe. She couldn't deny the simple pleasure of clean clothes, although she had left the corset where she had found it and chose trousers instead of a skirt. She'd never been one for airs and graces, and she wasn't about to start now.

Moving towards the door, she pressed her ear against it, her brow furrowing slightly at the soft sound of voices coming from the main room on the other side. Slowly, she turned the handle and opened the door, peering out.

At the table sat Leander, a teapot and cups laid out before him, and in a chair adjacent to him sat a beautiful, dark-haired woman. MC’s eyes narrowed as she studied this woman, recognising her as the Auror from Leander’s memory in the pensieve. She had suggested that Leander make her talk by implying that Sebastian was in a relationship with Rookwood’s daughter.

Her mouth tightened with instant dislike. She watched as they talked together, the woman reaching out to touch her hand to Leander’s arm. His cheeks flushed pink, his gaze rather bashful as this simpering bitch fluttered her dark lashes at him. MC’s stomach coiled tightly and she swung the door open wider, stepping out into the room to reveal herself. Leander glanced up, his eyes widening as they swept over her.

“MC…wow…you look…Do you feel better?” He stuttered, getting to his feet. He reached for another cup and placed it before the empty chair on his other side. “Let me pour you some tea. Come, join us. I would like you to meet my colleague, Odessa McKinnon. She will be taking some of the watches here with you, starting with later on this evening.”

MC moved closer as Leander poured tea from the pot, slipping into the chair that Leander hurried to hold out for her whilst keeping her suspicious gaze on McKinnon. Leander tucked her chair in, his fingers grazing her shoulder as he moved to return to his own chair. Cleaner than she had been in years, and feeling slightly more human now that she was dressed in proper clothes, MC felt her spine stiffen as McKinnon gave her the once over.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, MC,” she purred, one beautifully shaped eyebrow arching slightly as she lifted her tea cup. “I have heard so much about you, all your notorious deeds and wonderful magic. I have to admit, I have been rather intrigued.”

“You’re here to watch me tonight?” MC asked, her voice flat calm. She turned the saucer holding her teacup on the table top, relieved that her fingers did not tremble as she did so, her eyes cold and blank as she stared at the smug woman. “Aren’t you concerned that I might try to kill you?”

Leander hissed air through his teeth in a gasp. McKinnon didn’t move a muscle, but there was a subtle flare in her eyes as she put down her cup. “Out of prison a mere few hours and you’re already risking being thrown back inside,” she tutted. “I didn’t take you for a fool, MC.”

“But you take me for a murderer, correct? I have previous experience in that department. The man whom I thought to be Rookwood disappeared into a cloud of ash by my hands. They would have a hard time proving I did anything to you without a body as evidence,” MC said coolly. Her eyes glittered with cold malice as she lifted her cup and took a sip, the hot liquid washing over her tongue and making it tingle, the flavour blooming inside her mouth after years of tepid water.

Leander rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his eyes disapproving as he glanced her way, but she only smiled as she returned her cup to its saucer. McKinnon flicked an uneasy frown in Leander's direction and shifted in her chair. “You haven’t tried to hurt Prewett, so your heart can’t be that cold, love,” she said, tilting her head. “If you are trying to scare me, it won’t work. I’ve seen much nastier dark wizards than you.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, then,” MC said with a smirk. She slid her eyes towards a rather awkward looking Leander, and her gaze softened. “Besides, why would I want to hurt Leander? I rather like him. You, on the other hand...”

MC's eyes hardened again on those last words, the instant dislike she had for this Auror setting her teeth on edge. She would need to ensure that her defences were on full alert around this one, there was a gleam in her eyes that MC did not like, a smug assurance that took some of the edge off her beauty. If only she could have her wand.

McKinnon shifted in her seat again, perhaps not as smug as she was trying to portray as she leant her elbow on the table top, her hand supporting her chin. “Luckily, I enjoy a challenge, too,” she said, her eyes becoming devious slits. “Speaking of challenges. Your old flame, Sebastian Sallow, is rather handy with a wand, isn’t he? He put up quite the fight when I tracked him down in Glasgow. Quite the handsome devil, too. I can see why you liked him.”

MC stiffened, her fingers twitching to grip against the table top at the mention of Sebastian’s name. McKinnon’s smile was far too arrogant, too knowing.

“Rookwood’s daughter seems to think so as well. Quite the striking pair they make when they fight,” McKinnon continued.

Leander sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps we should keep the conversation to more relevant topics, ladies,” he suggested.

“How is Sebastian not relevant?” McKinnon asked, shifting her gaze to Leander. “He is in deep with Rookwood, and MC needs to be prepared.”

Trying to keep her temper was difficult considering the violent swing of her emotions today, but MC did her best to sit still and keep her mouth clamped tightly shut. She knew what this bitch was doing. She was trying to bait her, to wind her up and make her show her hand, and MC didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of succeeding. This is what McKinnon had suggested Leander do to her, her snide comments revealed in Leander's pensieve memory, but he hadn’t done it.

Her hands came together, her fingers touching against the scar on her palm, a reminder that Sebastian would never turn his back on her. He couldn’t. Just like she could never turn her back on him. As difficult as it was to think of him being with Rookwood’s daughter, if that is what he wanted, then what could she do? The very thought of him touching another woman made her stomach twist, sadness engulfing the dark space in her chest at the loss of what could have been, but she would never allow McKinnon the satisfaction of knowing that. No matter how harshly it scraped along her deepest fears.

“I am well aware of how Sebastian fights. We used to train together,” MC said, shrugging her shoulders as if she was not concerned. “When the time comes for me to track down the Ashwinders, I can’t see it being a problem. Like you said, I have such wonderful magic available at my fingertips, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Now, that is a showdown I would pay good galleons to see,” McKinnon said. Her sly smirk swung towards Leander. “Perhaps the idea of sending her into the pits is a good one, after all.”

“What pits?” MC asked, glancing between them.

McKinnon chuckled and got to her feet, taking her robe from the back of her chair to put on. Leander stood too, always the gentleman, stepping forward to help her with her robe. MC watched them both, noticing the flirty gleam in McKinnon's eyes as she smiled at Leander when she thanked him.

“I'm sure Prewett will fill you in on all the details regarding the pits,” she said, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. Her smug smile lifted her lips. “I have some errands to run, so I shall say goodbye for now. I will return for my watch duty later.”

“I can't wait,” MC muttered, rolling her eyes.

Leander walked her towards the door that led outside, MC watching through narrowed eyes as McKinnon touched her hand to his arm again.

“I will see you later,” she said, leaning in a little, her voice low and intimate. “And I shall tell Harrington that you will meet him as suggested.”

Leander nodded, that delicate blush staining his cheeks again. “Thank you, Odessa.”

Watching the exchange, MC realised she hadn't given much thought to what Leander's personal life might be like. She had only seen him as the Auror in his visits, with glimpses of the boy she remembered from their short time together at school. For the first time, she wondered what he liked, the kind of books he read, or what his favourite food was.

Did he have a lover? Watching him with McKinnon, she didn't think they were that close, but perhaps the suggestion of something more being possible lingered in their glances and smiles. The idea was oddly repulsive, and MC's mouth tightened with disapproval as she sat back in the chair and folded her arms.

Leander returned to the table and began to gather up the teacups after McKinnon had left. MC watched him, her gaze following him as he took the cups to the sink under the window.

“What are the pits?” She asked.

He turned to face her, brushing his hands together. “There is an illegal duelling club that takes place in the new London underground train tunnels. Rookwood is involved, and his Ashwinders take part in fights for money.”

Her eyebrows shot up with interest. “So, it's like a bigger, more dangerous version of Crossed Wands?”

Leander huffed a laugh and came back to the table and picked up the teapot. “Definitely more dangerous. People die down there,” he said pointedly. He held up the teapot. “Would you like some more?”

MC nodded and slid her cup forward to be refilled. “That delightful colleague of yours suggested I would be sent to these illegal duelling fights. Why is that?”

Leander bit his lip. “That hasn't been agreed upon yet. We need to do some more investigating first before we even consider sending you down there. It could be a good way to infiltrate you into the gang.”

“Does Sebastian duel there?”

Leander slowly put down the teapot and placed his hands on the back of his chair. She could see the reluctance in his eyes, but she needed to know, almost holding her breath as she waited.

“I can't say for sure that he does, but it is likely he will be there,” he said. He met her eyes. “Would you be alright with that? I don't want to place you in situations that might be difficult.”

Whilst her pulse raced, MC once again maintained a cool approach, shrugging her shoulders as she picked up her tea. “I can handle myself. I wouldn't make a very good spy for you if I couldn't. I will be fine.”

Leander pulled back his chair and sat down facing her. He placed a hand on the table top near hers but didn't touch her.

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to hurt you, and that includes placing you in dangerous situations. I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't be concerned. Harrington and I are going to check these duelling pits out later and see what they are like,” he said. “McKinnon will be here while I am gone, and I will tell you what I can once I return. Nothing will be finalised until I speak with you first.”

It was so very hard to maintain that cold exterior when he looked at her like that, his eyes so open and earnest, but she kept her face still as she returned his gaze. She tried to imagine him in a highly dangerous situation, tried to picture the transition from soft hearted Lee to a fighting Auror, and it wasn't easy.

Her hand shifted on the table top, her little finger brushing up against the warmth of his hand.

“Be careful while you're gone,” she said quietly. Her lips twitched ever so slightly. “Don't leave me alone with that smug bitch for too long. I'd rather not risk being sent back to Azkaban, but I won't rule out the desire to slap her irritatingly perfect face.”

He looked down to where she was touching him, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. “I will only be there a few hours, and then I will come back. I promise. Try and get some sleep. McKinnon isn't so bad once you get to know her. We trained together.”

MC stared into his eyes, the air feeling heavy between them. “She fancies you,” she murmured and watched as a deep flush coloured his freckled cheeks.

“We are just colleagues,” he assured her, touching his fingers to his tie to straighten it. “She is naturally flirtatious. She does it with everyone, not just me.”

“Would you like it to be just you she flirts with? The way she looked at you makes me think you are in with a chance there.”

“I’m not sure if that’s entirely appropriate,” he gulped.

Leander cleared his throat, his fingers now fiddling with his tie, rearranging it and ensuring it was tucked neatly into his waistcoat. His flush now darkened his neck, and his gaze skipped away from her as he stood.

MC felt a genuine smile twitch at her lips, seeing the awkward, flustered boy from their youth as he tried to calm his fluster. She reached out and took hold of his hand, her thumb sweeping over the softness of his palm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you, Lee,” she said gently before letting her gaze dip to their joined hands. It was surprising how just that brief and gentle contact could bring such comfort. Reluctantly, she let him go. “Besides, your personal life is none of my business. Forgive me.”

The look that they shared lingered, the moment feeling heavy and poised in the silence of the room. MC felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, a deep ache swelling within her to feel like she belonged somewhere, the black cavern in her chest warping with a loneliness that stole her breath.

“Let me fix you something to eat,” Leander said, breaking the strange tension in the room. “You must be hungry. I could make you a sandwich?”

MC blinked, nodding quickly as she compressed the confusing ache within her, masking it with her walls of cold stone. She was hungry. Although, when Leander placed down the plate onto the table before her, she stared at the cheese sandwich and wondered how she would ever be able to swallow it over the tightness in her throat.

The first bite filled her mouth with stinging surprise, all the texture and flavour so strange against her tongue as she chewed. It had been so long since she had eaten normal food, and as she took more mouthfuls, she began to chew faster. Her stomach gnawed with ravenous hunger, and she ate the entire sandwich, her belly rumbling and squeaking at the new contents she had thrown into it. Immediately, she felt very full, her hand rubbing over her stomach carefully as she groaned.

“It’s probably best to start with small meals until your stomach gets used to eating again,” Leander said, smiling at her like a proud parent across the table. “You will be eating roast dinners before you know it.”

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze, and she didn’t just mean for the sandwich.

He nodded, a knock at the door breaking the moment before it could become loaded again like before. They both turned to look towards the door, and Leander stood. “Ah, that will be the Healer,” he said. “Perfect timing.”

As Leander went to open the door and greet the Healer, MC remained at the table, her belly full and her body feeling clean from head to toes. Although the future stretched out huge and uncertain before her, for the first time since her feet landed on the perfectly swept floors of this house, she thought maybe she could do this after all.

Sebastian

Keeping a lid on his own rage was increasingly difficult as those around him spoke with raised voices, the private room at the back of The Black Rose pub filled with Rookwood’s closest henchmen. Sebastian and Rosier stood near the wall, watching as all hell broke loose, each man having his own piece to say on what they thought the Ministry was up to.

“Since when is a prisoner released without some kind of announcement in the Daily Prophet,” Carrow said, his eyes narrow and suspicious. “Especially a high profile prisoner such as this girl. It was all over the front page when she was convicted and sent to Azkaban. I don’t like it.”

Rookwood sat at the head of the table rubbing his chin slowly, his face in deep thought, his eyes shifting towards Sebastian with a dark look. “This had better not be a trick, Sallow,” he said darkly. “You didn’t get her out and hide her somewhere, did you?”

Sebastian clenched his fists, his face darkening at the suggestion. Rosier tapped his fingers against his elbow, his blue eyes flashing with a warning to be careful.

“You can take the very memory from my head if you doubt me so much,” Sebastian offered, straightening his spine. “Believe me, I’m just as pissed off as you are. We risked our necks going into that place. If anyone is up to trickery, it’s that bitch, Black Dahlia.”

Rookwood hummed thoughtfully, his gaze sliding back to Carrow. “Any word from our little whisperer?”

“Not a thing,” Carrow said, his mouth tight.

Sebastian’s top lip curled with his disgust and fury. There was no love lost when it came to Black Dahlia where he was concerned, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin, his hand lingering near his wand in its holster. He folded his arms and leant against the wall, chewing at his lower lip in frustration, his head drifting into a darker place as he considered painful ways of making her talk.

At the table beside Rookwood sat his daughter, Luella, her blonde curls held up in a twist, loose strands breaking free to hang around her face. She was sitting quietly, taking in the words spoken by those around her, but her gaze kept drifting over towards Sebastian. Her blue eyes were lit with a familiar gleam as they passed over him, lingering on his mouth and wandering downwards over his body with a hunger that had once stirred him.

She had arrived yesterday, curious and eager to meet the escaped prisoner, but had walked into the angry fallout of MC being missing. Last night, Sebastian had dodged her questions, soaking his innards in shots of whiskey to try and drown out the deep ache in his chest. When her hands had wandered, her lips soft against his ear, he had been tempted, but eventually spurned her advances outside his bedroom door. His bleary gaze had wandered over her hair, her eyes, the shape of her mouth, and it was all wrong. She wasn’t MC.

Here, in the meeting room, he was careful to avoid holding her gaze for too long. He needed to keep his distance from her, his main focus now being the seeking out of Leander Prewett and tracking down MC.

He had managed to corner Larson this morning, coercing him into a side alley near Gringotts Bank, and he’d asked him about Prewett. Larson hadn’t changed much since school, but he had surprised Sebastian with a steely determination not to be pushed around. Sebastian had changed tactics swiftly, using his silver tongue to suggest that he just wanted to talk to Prewett, that he had information that could prove useful. He had sent the blonde Ravenclaw off with assurances that his message would be passed on.

Rookwood stood up, adjusting his long gentleman’s coat, his eyes softening briefly as he glanced Luella’s way. He cast his eyes around the room, his eyes lit with a devilish gleam. “Let’s not fret, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll get to the truth of it in due course,” he said, his gaze landing on Sebastian. “Sallow is already chasing a lead within the Ministry, and once Black Dahlia shows her face, her lips had better start moving. For now, let us enjoy some entertainment. There are fights to bet on in the pits, and whores to slake our lusts. I say we adjourn to the tunnels and start the night early.”

A rousing murmur of agreement went up around the room, and Rosier grinned beside Sebastian. “I’m up for that,” he said, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and tucking one between his lips. He held the packet out to Sebastian, but he waved him off. “Are you coming, Sallow?”

Sebastian turned his gaze from Luella and considered Rosier’s question, his fingers caressing along the handle of his wand. “Actually, I could do with a damned good scrap,” he said thoughtfully, the burn of his frustration like an itch in his veins. “A few fast duels ought to satiate the hunger.”

“Or you could put Lulu out of her misery,” Rosier smirked, shaking his head. “Honestly, the eye fucking is becoming too obvious. I’m surprised Daddy Rookwood hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

Sebastian huffed and began to walk towards the door, following the others as they filed out of the room. Rosier joined him, and Sebastian leaned in to speak quietly. “I’m done with all that,” he muttered. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about. If you want to hit her up, go for it. Maybe she will leave me alone once you’ve got your hands on her.”

Rosier looked doubtful. “Lulu has always been picky with her men. She’s only got eyes for you, mate. But, you know me, I’ll give any ride a go.”

Sebastian’s mouth spread into a grin as he looked towards his friend, slinging an arm about his shoulders as they entered the bar of The Black Rose. “I do know you,” he said, ruffling Rosier’s dark, blonde hair. “And I appreciate your enthusiasm for life. Come on, let’s get down into those pits and inflict some damage. My wand is thirsty for some action.”

Leander

Despite it being the evening, the Auror office was just as busy, some at their desks whilst others were having meetings or gathering files for cases. Leander made his way through the desk cubicles, heading for his own to check if the file containing the gathered evidence for the duelling pits was there. He always liked to refresh his thoughts on the most recent information before heading out for field work. Knowledge was power, and going down into those tunnels was risky enough without knowing plenty of details.

His desk was as neat as he had left it, his files stored in a perfect pile in his tray. He flicked through them quickly, frowning slightly as he couldn’t find the one he was looking for. He glanced over at the untidy chaos of McKinnon’s desk and sighed, moving over to begin checking her scattered folders, but it wasn’t there either. Harrington’s desk turned up nothing, and so he headed towards the researcher's room in the hope it was there rather than being back in the archives.

The team of researchers that worked for the British Auror Office were methodical fact checkers, gathering and storing any evidence attained by Aurors and ensuring it was all filed correctly. They were also rather good at picking out patterns in evidence, and they were often an invaluable asset in solving cases. If Leander hadn’t managed to pass the tough Auror program, he had thought to become a researcher as a backup career. It was the pursuit of justice without the field work and fighting, all from the comfort of a desk inside the sanctuary of the Ministry.

As Leander walked down the hall towards the research offices, his head was filled with thoughts of MC. The knowledge that she was safely tucked away in the safe house, warm and comfortable, made some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Seeing her out of that dark and cold prison had brought a lump to his throat, especially when she had stepped out of the bedroom dressed in clean clothes, her hair soft about her face, her skin still slightly pink from her bath. He had been glad that McKinnon had been there to stop him from immediately going to her, his fingers aching to brush against the lines of her cheek, the pull of her stronger than ever despite his effort to hold back.

This case was so big, and she was a key part of it, he could not afford to mess this up. He had to be so careful, but one look at her big, haunted eyes was enough to make that soft part of himself that he hid so carefully behind his ribs, swell to a chest tightening bloom. It was a lesson in restraint to keep his hands to himself, to keep his thoughts on the job and not constantly on her. When she had brushed her finger up against his hand earlier, her lips uttering a soft plea for him to be careful whilst he was gone, it had taken all of his strength to behave like a gentleman.

Entering the research office, he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, striding past the girl on the reception desk with a polite nod as he made his way towards Larson’s desk. If anyone ought to know where the file was, it would be him. Andrew was indeed at his desk despite the later hour, his head bent over a thick stack of parchment, his fingers pushed into the soft wave of his blonde hair as he supported himself on the desk.

“Good evening, Andrew,” he said, coming to a stop beside him. “That’s quite the stack of bedtime reading you have there.”

Andrew looked up, blinking slowly as he separated his thoughts from his reading material, his lips curving into a smile. “Good evening, Lee. How are you?”

Andrew turned in his chair, pushing the parchment away from him to give Leander his full attention. His facial features had clung to the softness he’d had as a boy, the gentleness still there in his brown eyes, combined with a bright intelligence that Leander had always appreciated. He had known Andrew for a long time and took pleasure in working with him here at the Ministry. He felt privileged to call him a friend.

“I’m well, thank you,” Leander said with a nod. “I was hoping you would still be here. I’m looking for the file on the underground duelling pit in London. I wanted to read up a bit before going down there to have a scout around.”

Andrew’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re going down there? Has there been a new development on the Rookwood case?”

Leander gave a rueful twist of his lips. “You could say that, yes, although I am not at liberty to say much yet. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

Andrew bit his lip and glanced towards his pile of files on his desk, reaching across to pull one out and hold it up. “Actually, I have it right here,” he said, giving Leander a hesitant look. “I er…I swiped it from your desk earlier today while you were out. I wanted to read up on it myself.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“Yes. Our old school buddy, Sebastian Sallow,” Andrew said with a sigh. He looked up at Leander, a worried gleam in his eyes. “Would you say that was a good reason?”

Leander frowned and reached for a nearby chair, dragging it closer so he could sit. “That depends. What makes you interested in Sallow all of a sudden?”

“He cornered me this morning in Diagon Alley,” Andrew said, rubbing his hand across his mouth, a slight blush staining his cheeks. Leander’s eyes bulged, his lips parting in surprise. “I won’t lie to you, Lee. I wondered what the bloody hell he was going to do. He had his wand out, and I was never all that great at the hand to hand spell casting. That was always your thing, and Sallow is like a coiled serpent with a wand in his hand.”

“What did he want?”

Andrew winced, his eyes becoming grave. “He wants you, mate. He was demanding to know where he could find you. He said he had information that might prove useful to you. I didn’t tell him anything, only that I would pass on the message.”

Leander swore under his breath and put his hands to his face, closing his eyes as old insecurities began to bubble up inside of him. He was twelve years old again, and Sallow was casting Glacius under his feet to make him slip on the stairs, his twin giggling behind him as she clung on to Gaunt’s arm.

It had always been silly pranks, and Leander had gotten his own back a few times with some help from Garreth, but Sebastian always liked to have the upper hand. He always had to be smarter, faster, his cocky smirk plastered over his handsome face. And now he was looking for him. It could only be about one thing. It had to be something to do with MC. Leander blew air through his lips and gripped his thighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t a scrawny twelve year old anymore. He was a graduated Auror, and he could hold his own.

“What else did he say?” Leander asked, licking his lips.

“He said you might catch him in the Black Rose,” Andrew said, frowning slightly. “That is a nefarious pub, make no mistake. I wouldn’t go in there unprepared, Lee.”

Leander nodded and pinched his lips thoughtfully. “He was spotted there recently by another Auror, so it’s no surprise to hear that’s where to find him. Leave it with me, Andrew. I’ll see if I can’t track him down and find out what he wants.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Andrew said, his expression grim. “It can’t be anything good.”

Leander nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his lips as he moved to stand. He touched a hand to Andrew’s shoulder as he said goodbye, leaving the office with the file in hand, fairly certain that he knew exactly what Sebastian wanted, but he wasn’t about to give it to him.

For all Sebastian knew, she was tucked away inside Azkaban, far out of his reach. That’s the way it needed to stay until she was strong enough to step out into the world again and take on the likes of the Ashwinders. If Sebastian was hoping to get information out of him in order to aid a prison break, then he was very much mistaken.

….*....

Leander met Harrington in Monument Street, London, the area reasonably quiet after the setting of the sun. The gas lamps had been lit, casting an eerie glow through the beginnings of a lingering mist that left a damp feeling on one’s clothing. The distant sound of carriages on the main road heading towards London Bridge could be heard as he walked alongside Harrington, past the colossal tower of a monument dedicated to all that was lost in the Great Fire of London in the 1600s, giving the road its name.

“The file said the entrance to the duelling pit was down in the underground tunnel just along from the platform,” Leander said, pulling his collar up a little higher against the chill on the back of his neck. Autumn was beginning to sink its teeth into the weather. “Hopefully the station will be quiet at this time of the evening.”

“Magical folk have been vanishing into the underbelly of London long before the Muggles started sending their fancy new trains down there,” Harrington said. “London has many secrets, and some of the chambers underneath her are ancient. We won’t have any trouble accessing the tunnels. It will be further along that we will have to be more careful. My snitch said there are enchantments in place to avoid the duelling pits being discovered.”

“Nothing a cheeky Revelio won’t show us, I’m sure,” Leander said with a small smile.

They turned into King William Street and headed for the entrance to the Metropolitan Underground railway station of the same name, slipping through the doors in a swirl of mist and began to descend the spiralling iron stairwell into the depths.

“How is our new house guest faring?” Harrington asked as they reached the bottom, the air musty and damp, the only light coming from flickering lamps spaced out along the tiny platform.

“She is looking a lot better after a bath and something to eat, and the Healer said she was physically well despite everything. She has a box full of potions and elixirs to take to build her back to strength,” Leander said, scanning the station’s platform to find it empty. A crease appeared between his brows as he thought of MC. “I’m not so sure about her mental state. That might take a bit more work.”

“All we need her to do is give us enough to bring Rookwood to his knees,” Harrington said, his face grim. “We need to lure the spider out of his cave, and then we can shred his little web of criminals. That’s the main goal here.”

Leander bit his lip against the thoughts sliding across his mind. Harrington wasn’t wrong. That was the goal, but MC deserved more than that. At least, he thought so.

They jumped down off the platform onto the tracks below, the circular maw of the tunnel's mouth gaping before them. A stale breeze was coming from it, the tracks disappearing off into the blackness as though leading them down into the hells. Harrington slipped out his wand and stepped into the tunnel, his Lumos spell guiding their way until they came to the hidden door in the brick wall, marked by runes.

“Be on your guard, Prewett,” Harrington muttered. “We could end up running into anyone down here.”

An iron ladder led them down into a tunnel that had a swift running stream bubbling along the bottom of it, a stone pathway following the gushing water into further darkness. They walked for some time, listening for the sound of boot steps, Harrington casting Revelio at intervals until they came across a charmed barrier invisible to the naked eye. Leander tugged at his collar, feeling the oppressive weight of an entire city above his head as Harrington cleared the barrier, and they continued on.

Eventually, they began to hear the distorted echo of raised voices coming along the tunnel, the anticipation building in Leander’s chest as they drew nearer. Keeping to the shadows, they moved towards the light, the flicker and flash of spells reflecting off the walls in shades of red and white.

Leander wasn't sure what he had been expecting of the pit, the name itself bringing forth images of dark, filthy holes with those duelling battling it out amongst a rabble of a crowd. The crowd part was mostly true. However, they were spaced around an arena that made Leander think of Roman gladiator fighting rings. The staggered levels of the spectators gave them an excellent view into an oval shaped arena with a stone floor covered in wood shavings.

The chamber itself was not dark, nor filthy, the curved arches in the ceiling giving it a classical building feel, the stone work almost attractive, and around the walls were fire sconces that lit up the space with a golden glow. As for the gathered crowd, there was a mixed bunch of witches and wizards, from the poor to the rich. A careful glance around the space revealed that these duels attracted a variety of people, and a lot of them, too.

The place was heaving, the air thick with excitement and the smokey scent of spell casting, the chill of the tunnels exchanged for the warmth of many bodies in close proximity.

“Merlin’s beard, look at this lot,” Harrington said, his eyes casting an experienced eye over the crowd. His gaze narrowed as he looked in the direction of what could only be described as a spectators box. “Well, well, who do we have here?”

There in the box sat Marvolo Gaunt, Amos Carrow, Luella Rookwood, and what looked suspiciously like one of the Minister of Magic’s official aides. No wonder these pits were allowed to continue if they had high up Ministry workers in their audience.

“No sign of Rookwood,” Leander muttered near Harrington’s ear. “What about Sallow? I can't see him either.”

“Try looking lower down in the gutter where he belongs,” Harrington sneered.

Leander looked downwards into the fighting arena itself, and his eyes widened. There he was. Sebastian Sallow. The sleeves were rolled up on his black shirt, the collar open, his freckled skin glistening with sweat, and his wild mop of hair damp at his temples. Flushed and breathing hard, he was duelling against a bare chested man with a skinhead, his face set with intense concentration.

Andrew had compared him to a coiled serpent when he held a wand, and Leander could see that Sebastian still held a masterful prowess when it came to fighting. He moved with lithe skill, the barest flick of his wrist wielding quick spell work that his opponent could barely keep up with. He was no longer a scrawny teenager, his body more thickset, the muscle in his forearm defined. He looked strong, his neck solid and his chest broad, and yet he moved with the sharpness and cunning of a fox.

The bald man was flagging, and Sebastian showed no mercy as he backed him up against the wooden railing at the edge of the fight floor, the crowd leaning forward to jeer and shout. Sebastian wielded with a flourish, the Diffindo cutting through the other man's flesh with horrifying precision, the scarlet of his blood seeping from his wounds at a frightening pace. The crowd gasped and then cheered as he collapsed to the floor, a duelling referee stepping into the oval to lift Sebastian’s arm into the air as the victor.

“Savages, the lot of them,” Harrington hissed, his gaze narrowed in disgust. “It's a shame we don't have any backup. We could raid this circus and nab ourselves a pretty collection of scumbags here.”

Looking at the way the crowd was baying for blood, the punters getting their bet winnings as Carrow and Gaunt looked on with smug looks on their cold faces, Leander felt his stomach twist. The thought of bringing MC here made him feel nauseated, the danger and savageness making him think that this was not the best way forward. He wished he could keep her inside the safe house forever, no matter how unrealistic that sounded.

“Come on, I've seen enough,” Harrington said, nudging Leander’s arm. “Let's get out of here before we are spotted.”

Leander hesitated, watching as Luella Rookwood smiled down at Sebastian, clapping her hands. The way she looked at Sallow certainly gave some credence to McKinnon’s suggestion that there was something between the two. Clenching his hands into fists, Leander dragged his eyes away and began to make his way back through the crowd, heading for the tunnel they entered through.

A shout went up to his left, and then a bloom of purple sparks erupted into the air above their heads. There was a millisecond of utter silence before utter chaos erupted in the chamber. The crowd surged as people made a run for the tunnels, some falling and becoming trampled underfoot, the snap and whirl of Apparition coming from all sides as those who were able to make a quick exit.

Leander had his wand in hand, stumbling and shoving with the tide of people as he tried to work out what was happening. Harrington was lost in the chaos, and Leander swallowed down the flutter of panic that erupted in his chest, and he pulled on his Auror training. Maintaining a manner of calm, he fought his way through to the edge of the chamber, keeping a wary eye on everyone.

A glance to the spectator box revealed it to be empty, Carrow and Gaunt making a swift exit. He spotted Luella hurrying down the steps towards the pit floor, her mouth shouting something that looked suspiciously like Sebastian’s name, but he couldn't be sure over the noise and chaos. He needed to find Harrington and get out of here.

Pushing back through the crowd, he looked for signs of his partner, having to block spells that were being cast across the heads of people as scrapping began to break out. Leander fired off a few spells of his own, diving behind a stack of storage crates at the entrance of a rather large tunnel to avoid a blasting curse.

As the crowd thinned, Leander moved back towards the chamber, scanning the space for Harrington. The scrape of boots on stone behind him made him spin about, his wand held out ready, his heart leaping madly as his gaze met with a pair of blazing, brown eyes.

Sebastian stood a fair few paces before him, his wand held up towards Leander, a gleam in his gaze that could almost be described as feral satisfaction. Sebastian took a slow step to the right, and Leander counter stepped, keeping his wand arm aimed, steady, and true.

Despite the heightened danger of the situation, Leander felt as though they could be sixteen again, preparing to face off in a round of Crossed Wands. Time slipped into insignificance as he stared Sebastian down. Sixteen or twenty-one, it would appear they were fated to always be rivals.

“I should have known to find you here, Sallow,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the mad rush of his pulse. “It's all a little predictable, though, isn't it? Another unsanctioned duelling club. I thought you might have outgrown all that by now.”

Sebastian smirked, his feet creeping closer. Leander maintained a decent distance, his eyes quick and wary as they manoeuvred in the entrance of the tunnel.

“You're not so unpredictable yourself, Prewett. Here you are, coming to wreck all the fun with rules and self-righteousness,” Sebastian said, shaking his head slowly. “I guess some things just don't change.”

A flick of his wrist and a quick cast hit the stone in front of Leander’s boot. The slightest flinch flickered across his face, but he didn't move. Sebastian’s eyebrows went up a notch.

“How about it, Prewett? Do you fancy a round for old times' sake?”

“It will only end with your wrists in chains and a cell, Sallow,” Leander said, his face hardening. “I hear Azkaban is rather cruel this time of year. I guess you will fit right in.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “You would know,” he hissed, striking hard and fast.

Leander threw up a Protego shield and cast back, both of them assuming duelling stances and falling into a furious back and forth of spells. Sebastian was fierce despite having only just fought in the ring, but Leander was no longer a schoolboy either, his body fit and strong from gruelling training and hours of practice. He gave it everything and even began to push Sebastian further back into the tunnel, shadows darkening their movements and making the spells light up their faces with an eerie glow.

Sebastian’s comment toyed at the back of Leander’s thoughts as they fired spells into the dark. What did he mean? Blocking another swift curse, he used one of Sebastian’s old tricks against him and cast Glacius across the floor. Sebastian’s boots slid on the ice, and he swore viciously as he slammed into the tunnel wall, his wand clattering to the ground.

Leander was on him instantly, grabbing the front of his shirt, breathing hard as he shoved him against the wall. “I hear you've been looking for me, Sallow. What could you possibly have to say that I would find interesting?”

Sebastian growled and tried to shove back, kicking out with his legs in frustration. They struggled, Sebastian swinging a fist towards his face and catching him hard above his eye. Leander grunted at the impact, blinking in shock as his mind spun, but he shook it off and managed to grab Sebastian's wrist and slam him back against the wall. He pinned his arm up to block any more swings, his other hand fisting into his shirt.

As Sebastian’s hand splayed open at the impact against the brick, Leander caught sight of a long, thin red scar slashed across his palm, a complete match to the one MC had across hers. Leander stared at it, his cheeks draining of colour as he remembered the blood pact between her and Sallow.

Sebastian’s head twisted, looking to see what Leander was staring at, his gaze narrowing as he studied Leander's face carefully.

“What's got you all spooked?” He asked and wiggled the fingers on his left hand, his breath panting through his lips. “It's only a scar.”

Leander met his eyes, his grip tightening on the infuriating man against the wall. “I know exactly what it is,” he hissed.

Sebastian’s smugness faltered fleetingly, his throat working as he swallowed. A cold, determined look entered his gaze, and his voice came through gritted teeth.

“Where is she, Prewett?”

Leander stilled, his eyes locked in a battle of wills with his old rival, a dull throb beginning around his eye where Sebastian had punched him. “Who?”

“Don't fuck with me,” Sebastian said, trying to jerk his arms free, but Leander pushed harder against him. “You know who I'm talking about. Where is she?”

The first cold trickle of fear slid down Leander’s spine at the demand, the suggestion that Sebastian knew she had been released. Leander stuck to the lie. “She is in Azkaban. You know that.”

Sebastian huffed a cold, humourless laugh. “You and I both know that's not true, Prewett. Naughty boy, you shouldn't tell lies. MC is not in her cell, and I want to know where she is. You can't keep her from me, not for long.”

Leander wanted to rip the smugness from Sebastian’s face, his own fear and bitterness making his blood run cold. How could Sebastian know that MC wasn't in her cell? How was that even possible? His eyes flicked up towards the scar on Sebastian’s palm as he wondered if somehow the pact could tell him. But then, that would mean he could locate her if she moved. So, no, that wasn't it. His mind raced, the obvious possibility being one he didn't want to admit, the very idea threatening the honour of the British Auror Office.

Sebastian’s grin was slow and knowing. “You thought you were being so clever, didn't you? You thought you could sneak her out, and nobody would know. What's the plan, Prewett? Are you hoping to keep her all for yourself?”

Leander felt his cheeks burn with a flush, and he could no longer bear the close proximity of him. He let Sebastian go and stepped back, swiping his hand across his face as he swallowed hard.

“I'm not sure what it is you think you know, but you're wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not sneaking anyone anywhere.”

“Liar!” Sebastian hissed, his fists slamming against his thighs, his eyes wild. “You took her out of there, I know you did! Tell me where she is! You might as well, because if not today, I will find out, and I will come for her. She's mine, Prewett.”

“You think your stupid blood pact makes her yours?” He scoffed, gesturing towards his left hand. “MC has her own mind, Sallow. She might not be able to betray you, but that doesn't mean you own her. She can choose to go and be with whoever she wants.”

Sebastian’s face hardened. “Is that right?”

“Yes it is,” he said, nodding. “MC will always have a choice.”

“I suppose you have hopes that she will choose you,” Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing. “Her prince in shining armour who rescued her from the tower.”

He knew. Sebastian knew MC was out. But how?

Footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and they both turned to see Harrington approaching with his wand held up. He fixed his stern eyes on Sebastian, a slow smile appearing on his mouth.

“Look who we have here,” he said. “Mr Sallow. Oh, I've been looking forward to seeing you again.”

Sebastian threw another glance towards Leander, his eyes determined. “I won't give up.”

“Don't you dare…” Harrington snarled, a spell bursting from his wand. But, he was too late.

Sebastian made a dive for his wand and disappeared with a sharp crack, a swirl of black giving way to nothing as Harrington’s spell hit the wall with a flare of white light.

Leander hung his head, his fingers gripping tightly to his wand as his mind raced, the adrenaline from the fight draining from him. Harrington came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't worry, lad,” he said. “We'll get him.”

Leander lifted his head to look at Harrington, his heart sinking at what he had to say. The thought of it filling him with such disappointment even though such a thing wasn't unheard of.

“He knew, Harrington,” he said softly. “He knew MC was out of Azkaban and that I was the one who took her. I think…I think we might have a snitch on the team.”

Harrington glanced towards where Sebastian had been standing only seconds ago, his mouth tightening with fury. “Shit,” he muttered, turning away. His voice lifted into a yell that echoed down the tunnel. “Shit!”

This could compromise the whole operation. It could alert Rookwood to the idea that MC was siding with Aurors, and Leander felt the bitter sting of frustration in his bones.

Harrington rubbed his chin in thought, his gaze catching on Leander’s face. “Bloody hell, that's going to give you a shiner come tomorrow,” he said, stepping closer. “You could do with seeing a Healer.”

Leander touched his fingers carefully to his eyebrow, the dull throb making him wince as he felt warm, sticky blood from the split skin there. “I will live,” he sighed.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and then we need to check on McKinnon,” Harrington said. “If there is a snitch, then the safe house could be compromised.”

Leander's stomach plummeted. He'd left MC there after promising he wouldn't let anything happen to her. “I'll go,” he said firmly. “I'll go right now.”

“You need to see a Healer,” Harrington repeated, pointing at his head.

“I'm fine,” Leander insisted. “Besides, MC is my responsibility. It should be me that goes.”

Harrington gave him a long look and then sighed. “Your soft heart is going to get you in trouble one of these days, lad. Fine. Go to the safe house, but don't take any chances. Pack a bag and get MC out of there. Take her somewhere nobody else would even think of looking, and send me a coded owl once you're safe. Understand?”

Leander nodded, his adrenaline beginning to kick in again. “What are you going to do?”

Harrington gave him a meaningful look. “I'm going to turn Seeker and hunt out this bloody snitch.”

Leander nodded, gripping tightly to his wand as he pictured the safe house in his mind, and Disapparated out of the dark tunnel.

To be continued...

Huge thanks, as always, to @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour for their support with this fic 💜

Odessa McKinnon is an OC used with the kind permission of @ellivenollivander

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #hogwarts legacy #blueraineshadows #blood bound

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