#they looked like they’d been stabbed in their spines

[therealcalrissian]

i love michelle and dee to death but i am really relying on the fact that they are both pathological liars and that the end of tbb s3 is actually just sunshine and flowers and family and batcher.

#their faces when talking about the finale #they looked like they’d been stabbed in their spines #i mean they are both great voice actors #actor=liar??? #star wars #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb #star wars the bad batch #tbb season 3 #tbb spoilers #the bad batch star wars #dee bradley baker #michelle ang

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 9

Hello my loves... we are nearing the end of the main Illicit story, but we will have tons of extra one shots for them. Flashbacks, memories, looks into the future etc. We have one more part left for the main series, but here is an intense part... :-)

WC- 4.8k

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Illicit Masterlist

Warnings- home break in, weapons, guns, knives, injuries, stabbing, mean harry, crazy Katherine, hospital/medical scene and mention of treatment, stitches, talk of concussions and wounds...

————-

It was too quiet. 

Harry arrived home, paper bag in hand but the entire way up there had been unease in his stomach.  Something wasn’t right and he had felt it in his gut. 

He’d gotten word that Katherine had been spotted a few streets over just a few days prior and he knew he’d been on edge when the cops had said they’d tried to follow but she’d gone to the wind again. It unsettled him to know she was seen outside the coffee shop Y/N frequented, more than anything. He’d upped security again, but when he entered the penthouse he couldn’t see the guard supposedly meant to be in the foyer. His stomach dropped, hand dropping to his waistband to feel for the gun he had stuffed in there since she had gotten back. 

It was insane to him. How a deal had been so dumb, but made into such a big deal that he had to worry about the safety of his home and his lover. That a wannabe socialite had managed to fuck with him just because he didn’t want her. He’d never led her on, making sure to be as brutally honest as possible, but it seemed like that didn’t matter when she was disturbed. 

It was stiffly quiet in the house but when he stood still and listened he could hear the classical music drifting from up the stairs. The unusual chill settled down his spine as he tiptoed across the foyer- only to be stopped in his tracks. 

The guard was knocked clean out on the floor. Eyes closed, gun across the room and blood trickling from the side of his head. A cleaning cart was parked by the edge of the stairs, making his hackles rise and stomach sink. He knew exactly how she had gotten into the place, and she was a lot crazier than he expected. Of course she would pull this sort of desperate thing, he’d half expected it, but he’d been so hopeful that it would happen at his job. Somewhere his love wasn’t around to bear witness to. She’d been so stressed, and he had failed to keep her safe.  Y/N was home. He knew she was, he’d texted her not even an hour and half prior to confirm he’d bring home the bagels she wanted. The paper bag he had carefully set down, weapon drawn as he crouched down to take the pulse of the guard. 

It was there. He was alive, just unconscious- thank god. Harry didn’t want anyone to die on his dime. He didn't have time to waste, taking his phone out and hurriedly typing the SOS signal into the message system to the other guards along with telling them to be as quiet as humanly possible coming inside. 

He tried to be silent as he scaled the steps, holding his weapon out in front of him. If this was indeed Katherine or someone who had sent her? Who knew what they had on them. What state they’d be in. He could only pray that Y/N was unscathed, that she’d target him and him alone. It was his fault, after all. 

This was what he had been afraid of since Katherine had disappeared. Obviously in order to break and enter along with taking intimate photos of people in their own home, there had to be something wrong with her- but he had hoped that maybe Y/N’s shiny optimism had been correct, that she’d gone away to lick her wounds and would restart somewhere else. He should have known she wouldn’t go down that easy. The woman had gone through so much effort in order to really sell the idea that she was in a relationship with Harry despite his uninterested gaze, barely looking at her- let alone touch. She had seen him as her ticket up in the society she was desperate to be the queen bee of and Harry had been the perfect goal she had thought she acquired. 

Of course when it came tumbling down she would lose it. The difference between Harry and his lover is that he didn’t have any empathy for her. While Y/N may frown and empathize with the fact she had been stripped of everything, Harry was pleased. She’d been a thorn in his side for ages, always clingy and managed to be a true annoyance for him. She was entitled, bratty, vapid, loud, desperate for approval and obsessed with validation. Everything he disliked rolled into one. She had fucked around with his business and wasted his time, not to mention the fact that Harry had resentment over her being unwilling to cut the deal so he could be with Y/N in an easier way. He’d brave any storm for her, of course he would, but  he’d prefer smooth roads rather than bumpy ones. 

His heart pounded in his chest so hard it hurt, mouth dry and rage boiling in his stomach as he got up to the second floor where the music got louder. Of course, the one room with the door open a smidge was his office. He couldn’t see or hear Y/N, but he couldn’t chance opening another door when he was a shadow pass under the open door. The closer he got, though, he could hear mumbling under the music. 

“You really didn’t need to tie me up.” Y/N. He could hear her now, the tiniest wave of relief washing over him knowing the was awake, talking. 

“I really did.” The sneer belonged to her. To Katherine. His spine stiffened as he tried to be as silent as possible, keeping his breathing as even as he could as he slowly approached his office. “You’re a snake. Taking people’s boyfriends from under their noses. Homewrecker.” The woman hissed like a snake, Harry’s stomach rolling as he heard the sharp sound of a slap. There was nothing else said for a moment, making Katherine growl in rage. 

“God, you disgust me. I can’t believe you were the one to steal him away from me. You're no one.” Her voice sounded a bit more unhinged as he listened to it, hearing pacing in the room. He braved a glance in, the crazy woman’s back to him as she paced in front of Y/N. His heart hurt as he saw blood smeared on her cheek and her hair was messy, falling mostly out of the messy bun she had styled. “You don’t have any reason to date a man like him. What can you offer him? Hm? You’ve got no assets besides your family’s money, and that’s pathetic in comparison to both his and mine. You don’t have any appeal to pop culture. You just… what? Make your stupid, ugly art? How do you think you’re going to keep him?” 

“I love him.” Y/N said softly, trying not to lose her cool. “I’d love him if he was bankrupt tomorrow. I’d love him if he was a mechanic, a farmer, a pop star, if he was a stripper. I don’t care too much about his money. He’s got plenty because he’s a good worker but, when he comes home…” She frowned. “When he comes home, he likes tea because he drinks coffee all day at work. He likes his house shoes and would wear them all the time if it was fashionable. He takes cold plunges often, he likes broccoli but not cauliflower. He has a tense neck and pretends its fine but falls asleep when I massage it. I offer him stability, Katherine.” Y/N wasn’t being rude, but talking to her with an even tone. “You have to understand that my money, my social power means nothing to me. Harry has someone who he can rely on to take care of him when he’s sick, to be honest and vulnerable with. Not someone who calls paparazzi for a surprise ambush. If you paid a lick of attention to him, you’d know he hates cameras. Despises having his photo taken most of the time. He wasn’t the man for you, but there are a lot of men who would love to be with you.”

“Stop fucking pandering to me.” Katherine hissed again, striking Y/N again on her cheek. It was too much for him, watching her head snap to the side and the ring on Katherine’s hand tear at the skin near her lip. “You don’t know anything! You stole him from me. He was going to give in! He was going to love me!”

“No I wasn’t.” Harry held his gun out in front of him, kicking the door open as he looked at them with eyes darker than either woman had ever seen them. He was seething, rage visible on his form. There was no doubt about it. “I was never going to love you. I was never going to give in, you are just fucking insane.” His disdain was visible on his face but he could see that Y/N was tied up, blood on her face making his stomach hurt. She was going to have a swollen eye from the hit on her right cheek, the hit having cut her right underneath it. 

Harry had never felt more livid in his life. 

The relief on her face was the only thing that settled him slightly, glad that she still trusted him despite the fact he was the reason she was in the situation to begin with. 

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” Katherine was quick to show the knife she had, approaching Y/N until he aimed the weapon a few inches from her feet and let off a warning shot. It punctured a splintered hole on the bottom of his desk but it made the both of them scream, Katherine scrambling away but still holding the knife up- as if it was going to intimidate him. 

“Because you’re psychotic, because you’ve tied my woman up, you’ve broken into my house a number of times and you just don’t seem to be getting the fucking hint. Pick a number.” He grunted. The smell of the residue the shot had left making his throat tight, but he didn’t care. The approach was slow, the whole idea to get her away from Y/N. “I’m the one you’re mad at. Why the fuck are you here, hurting her? Think she stole you away from you when I’ve never belonged to you in the first place. I’ve always been hers.” He sneered, moving his body in front of Y/N’s. At least there was a barrier now. 

“No!” The growl that left her was a bit chilling. She sounded possessed, huffing and puffing as she pointed the knife at him. “You were mine! You signed the contract and you had to take me on dates. You had to have liked me. We had sex!” The crazed tone to her voice returned with a fierceness, making him wonder just how far she was willing to take this. “We were the power couple, you were falling in love with me and she ruined it!” There was pure hatred in her crazed eyes as she tried to catch a glance at his girlfriend. 

“No. Look at me, not at her.” He barked. “I’m telling you now, I didn’t want to date you. I’ve told you this countless times. I have never wanted you, the only reason people called us an it couple is because you were pathetic and lied about me buying you gifts and sending you flowers that you bought yourself and hung all over me like a desperate bitch when I was forced to be out in public with you. The sex was subpar at best, you sounded like a dying fucking cat and there’s a reason I didn’t want to look at you during.” Yeah, he was being a dick, but he didn’t care. She needed to get it through her thick skull. “Y/N is and always has been the love of my life since I met her. If I knew her before being offered the contract you’d never have gotten a breath of my air. But that was because of me and me alone. I never wanted you, and I’m the one you should be angry at.” No matter how desperately he wanted to turn around and check on Y/N when he heard her sniffling behind him, no matter how panicked he felt internally and how bad his heart hurt, he kept his eye on the danger. 

“You’re lying!” She screeched, trying to lunge at him but he aimed to the side and shot again- this time into the wall. As much as he wanted her to suffer, Harry didn’t like the idea of Y/N being here and witnessing something extremely violent. He wanted Katherine to rot in jail, wanted her to go insane all alone. He didn’t feel like hiring someone to scrub the floors and his carpet either. “What the fuck! Are you trying to kill me?” Her face had paled as she turned to look at the bullet lodged into the wall. 

“I should, but I won’t. You invaded my home multiple times, put hands on my woman, caused emotional and physical distress. Tried to fucking hide from police and your father alike because you knew I was going to destroy you. I don’t know how you’ve turned it into some delusion, thinking that if you hurt Y/N that I’d somehow want you but I never have. I never will. I want to see you rot behind bars, miserable. A bullet in you would be an easy way out.” Maybe Harry was…. Slightly crazy as well. But he didn’t run around kidnapping people, breaking in places, and he sure as hell didn’t waste his time trying to humiliate himself over someone who clearly didn’t want him and never had. “For every fucking scratch, bruise, and tear that comes from her, I’m going to pour more and more money onto the lawyers that will get you the longest possible sentence. I know you’ll do terribly there, and that’s what I’m looking forward to.” His own evil smirk rose to his lips as he heard the guards enter the room, more footsteps following up and the police announcing their presence. “You are nothing to me, you never have been. Now I’m going to make sure you pay for the shit you did. I know she’s nicer than I am, but I disagree.” He hissed. “Hope you find a lover in prison, because that’s the only hope you have now.” 

Harry sort of expected it, but he hadn’t expected the quickness. Katherine screamed in rage, lunging at him and slicing the side of his arm and shirt with the blade. He barely recognized the pain, more focused on yanking her knife out of her hand to throw to the side before handling arms and forcing her to the floor. Her body thrashed, screeching out insults as the guards came in quickly, taking over and keeping her restrained as they clipped handcuffs on her. She spit and kicked, looking like a rabid animal as she somehow called out for Harry to help her as they lifted her up to carry her out of the room. 

“Harr-Harry!” Y/N’s voice sobbed as he turned to her again, finding one of the other guards cutting the rope off of her. Her teary eyes looked towards his now blood soaked shirt and jacket, shaky hands gently grabbing it and pulling the latter off of his form. “Oh my god, are you okay? She stabbed you!” Her breathing was frantic and he could feel her trembling as she grabbed the other side of the jacket and applied pressure to the wound. He didn’t feel the pain quite yet, adrenaline still going strong. All he could focus on was her own injuries. “Can someone call an ambulance? Please?” She choked on her sob. “For him and f-for.. She knocked him out downstairs, I heard it. I hope he’s okay, we… Please?” She pleaded to the guard who nodded with his phone to his ear already.

“Hey… I’m okay.” He whispered to her, his uninjured hand reaching up to hold her chin. “I’m okay, love. S’a scrape. Promise. I’m completely fine. I’m worried about you.” His face was full of that concern, scanning over her injuries. Seeing them up closer made his stomach turn, almost like he was about to be sick all over himself. “M’sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes burned. “I promised she wouldn’t hurt you. And now you’re all bloody.” There were a few marks and he wondered how many times she had slapped Y/N around. One scrape on her forehead that was bleeding a lot more than the face ones, bruising already forming around her eye. “Where else are you hurt? What happened?” He pulled her into his form, ignoring any warning about being careful with his arm as she still tried to apply the pressure. 

“I’m fine. She- she hit me with a book, back of the head to stun me. My vision went wonky and I blacked out a little, came to all tied up. I heard her coming upstairs after the stuff downstairs but I wasn’t quick enough to lock the door.” She sniffled, feeling his lips press against the top of her head. His shirt was ruined, bloodied and torn at the arm but he didn’t give a shit about the clothing. He wanted her as close as possible. 

“Fuck.” Voice wrecked, he held her tight. “Okay. We need to get you checked out first, please. You probably have a concussion or worse. I need to… I’m not letting you out of my sight.” This was going to be an issue later on down the line, but he didn’t care. He was going to exercise every bit of his money privilege to make sure Y/N got the best care possible and every single thing was taken care of. He failed her once, and he wasn’t going to do it again. 

—----

Harry had fought to ride in the same ambulance as her. He’d fought hard, cussing and snarling but ultimately was forced to be calmed by her gentle words and the contact they had at the hospital insuring that they’d be in the same ER room together. The man was terrified to leave her side and Y/N could see it. Despite his cold and hard look, his anger coating his words, the venom in his tone, it was all out of fear. It’s how his anxiety manifested when it came to her and she knew all too well. 

So he’d given in and gave her a slow kiss, promising that he wasn’t going to let anything else happen to her- all before threatening the poor EMS pair in charge of Y/N with their jobs if something happened to her. She had to make sure they knew they would be fine as soon as the door closed and Harry was wrangled onto his own ride, which she could hear grumbling and complaining as he did so. Y/N loved her grumpy man so much. 

He arrived first to the hospital which meant he had demanded to wait for her to be wheeled in, making sure she went first. There was triage, which meant a knife wound would be looked at first, but he barely flinched as they sat in their room with the door closed, two separate teams looking over their injuries. A set of the guards were outside said doors, taking updates about the one who had been injured on the job and ensuring no one else got in or out other than approved medical staff. Harry wasn’t stupid and he knew the media would catch wind as soon as it leaked. It couldn’t be too long now considering he knew Katherine must have continued her tantrum all the way down to the police cruiser. 

“Is she okay? What’s going on?” He asked across the room, trying to look over shoulders to see the doctor looking over her injuries. The frantic beat of his heart had been a slight cause of concern when they took his vitals but then again, who would be calm after a situation like that? 

“Mr. Styles, please stay still so we can properly stitch.” The poor woman working on him most definitely had her work cut out for her and he felt bad only slightly considering he liked to be a good patient, but Y/N was more important to him than the stupid fucking stitches. Luckily it really had only been a cut. There wasn’t a lot of muscle damage, and it was even on his arm without tattoos. If he was going to be in a knife fight this was the luckiest outcome someone could hope for. 

“Harry, please.” Y/N shot him a tired look. “I’m okay. I promise. Let them stitch you up so you have the best chance at healing. It would make me happy.” 

“My goal is to always make you happy, my love, but I know it’s serious when you black out.” He stressed. For his own good, he should have been calming down but it was hard to when they hadn’t told him much yet.

“Can I disclose to Mr. Styles of your condition, Miss?” The doctor asked, which normally would have made him happy to know he respected her privacy- but his blood pressure was rising by the second with the lack of information. 

“Of course.” She murmured, giving him a softer look as one of the nurses began to clean the cuts on her face. Even still, she was his beautiful girl. He was going to push for the most harsh charges he could for that evil bitch. Y/N didn’t deserve that. He definitely did. 

“Well, the cuts are going to heal just fine. They don’t need stitching as they aren’t too deep, a few are just scrapes. The one on her head was a bit deeper but headwounds tend to bleed more, so it looked worse than met the eye. Shouldn’t scar badly, if at all.” He explained, making a bit of relief flood his body. “However, I do believe she has a concussion. We were discussing sending her for a CAT scan to ensure there was no further damage, but I don’t think there will be. She’s a lucky girl.” 

Harry bristled, lip curling in a snarl. “Lucky? Having your home invaded and being tied up and abused is lucky to you? Who the fuck are you to say-” His defense was calmed by a call of his name, a frown on his love’s face as she shook her head. 

“H, you know he didn’t mean it that way.” She looked towards the paling doctor. Harry’s bark was very mean, and his bite was meaner. The fear was understood but she would make sure her lover relaxed. “He means that for what could have happened, it’s good. Just like how you could have been stabbed in a worse place. He isn’t minimizing what happened to me.” It was difficult because she couldn’t physically touch him with them being in separate hospital beds across the private room, but the words had the desired effect. 

His eyes narrowed at the doctor as he set his jaw, deciding to leave it for her sake. “Get her in there immediately. I want every person qualified to look at the results to ensure there's nothing missed.” Harry didn’t swing his name and money around in this sort of setting too often, but it seemed necessary. “Or I’ll make sure my father pulls funding for those very nice golf retreats for the staff.” There was a Styles wing here, after all. There had been for years. 

“Y-Yes, I’m going to call over to them now. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Make it fast.” He snipped, eyes only softening when he left the room and he locked gazes with Y/N. The man had no clue how he was going to possibly make it up to her. It was extremely rare that he ever felt genuine, punch in the gut guilt, but seeing her smile at him only made it worse. How was she not angry at him right now? He had gotten a human angel, that’s for sure. 

How would he make her feel safe in their penthouse again? He knew it wasn’t a forever home but it was the first place they’d cemented themselves as a couple. He was going to do anything he could to ensure she felt safe again, though he knew it was probably going to be a while after Katherine was locked up. He’d be looking at a new building regardless after finding out that she had been cleared by the building security to go in the back entrance. She’d apparently been deranged enough to find out the shit changes and hopped into what had to be the only unmonitored elevator ride that day. She had a valid key card to get into their place and had snuck up on the in house guard, making her efforts very apparent. Katherine been plotting for a while.

As soon as his stitches were finished and they gave him some pain relief, he walked over to her bed and sat himself down in it. There was no semblance of personal space, frown on his face as his fingers traced over the gauze on her forehead cut. She looked sleepy, his poor girl, but they’d still have to wait for the tests on her and they wanted to monitor his heart rate for a bit. Their stay wasn’t over quite yet. 

“M’gonna get us out of here for a bit, as soon as you’re okay to travel.” He whispered, closing them into their own private little bubble. They finally had a minute alone. “Wherever you want to go. Think on it.” He tipped her chin up to place a few kisses to her lips, needing the comfort for his own sake. A shaky exhale made him pull back, eyes burning as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the hot skin. 

“Anywhere with you.” Y/N smiled, her own pain meds kicking in. “Probably can’t go on a plane with a concussion for a bit. I dunno, m’not the doctor. But… maybe we can go to the lake house for a bit?” Laying on her side, she scooted over so Harry could properly be comfortable on the small hospital bed. It wasn’t built for two but they made it work. “It’ll be a bit of a drive but I think it would be nice to get out of the city for a little bit. Just spend time with you alone.” 

In all honesty, Harry knew he’d sort of dropped the ball with Y/N. He hadn’t given her every single thing she deserved and he’d been limited by the stupid deal. Now that it was over, though? He wasn’t going to pull back any of the things he wanted to do. She deserved a vacation, his uninterrupted attention and a true break from work. As much of a workaholic as he was, the only thing he loved more was the girl in his arm. If he didn’t think they’d scold him for popping stitches he would use both of them to tug her on top of him. 

“I think that’s a lovely idea, my love.” He approved, the softest smile he could mange painting his lips. “I know things are going to be a bit hectic for a while but m’gonna take care of you. S’all I want to do. You’re my favorite person and… I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. Know I failed at keeping you safe, but m’a bit too selfish to let you go.” His eyes shined, trying not to let too much emotion out in here. “I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life taking care of you and making sure every bit of your body is safe. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. My heart.” The soft croon was rewarded with her shy smile, a little peck placed to his lips as a secondary bonus. Butterflies were the last sensation the grump of a man ever expected to feel in his life, but Y/N had lit up his life. “It’s a forever thing, you and me. Just have to wait and see.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #illicit #illicitrry #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #dark harry styles

[bunny-yan]

Yandere!Fan x Idol!gn!reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions stalking, bondage, violence, self-harm, minors DNI

—

You woke up in complete darkness. 

It wouldn’t have been odd if you could move your arms or legs, but your hands were tied firmly together, wrists chafing from the rope and it made you thankful that you’d chosen to wear sweatpants before going to bed that night. 

Your legs weren’t an exception. 

Your ankles hurt, the ball located in both were rubbing against each other painfully and you shifted to try and alleviate some of the pressure it was causing. 

From your lack of sight, you assumed that whoever tied you up had also blindfolded you and you didn’t bother to shout for help due to the gag they’d also shoved in your mouth. 

It was surprisingly the first time that someone had succeeded in kidnapping you. 

You’d always heard about things like this happening to the other, more popular idols, but you knew that you weren’t as lucky to avoid experiencing some of the things they told horror stories about. 

You had your fair share of stalkers, following you home and leaving you questionable gifts that differed from the regular fan mail, although it was in its own category considering the amount of romantic declarations you received from desperate fans. 

There were times where you’d almost been stabbed by a jealous fan or dragged into a van, but your agency hired bodyguards that you considered pretty competent considering you’d walked away from both situations with nothing more than a few scratches, if that. 

When you got out of whatever this was, you’d be sure to let your manager know that you’d need replacements, but that would have to wait for when you could actually move and see. 

“You’re awake!” you heard a voice say, your body locking in response as you resisted the urge to turn towards the sound of the voice. It was androgynous. You weren’t quite sure if leaned towards the feminine or masculine side, not that it mattered. You were more concerned about why seeing someone tied up seemed perfectly reasonable. Of course, you assumed that this was the person who’d kidnapped you, but a part of you could only hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding. 

The sound of footsteps made your heart beat faster and you flinched away from the hand that touched you near your ear, but you blinked wildly when the blindfold was pulled off your head to free your sight. 

The first thing you noticed was the huge grin on your kidnapper’s face. 

He looked young. Older than high school, bordering on college young. 

“I’m Harper and I am your number one fan.”

Your eyes took a moment to adjust and when you gained the courage to look away from the nervous stranger, you noticed the room you were in wasn’t very large. It had a bed tucked near the fall wall, a desk that had nothing other than a picture frame with contents unknown since you were sitting in a small chair right next to it, and pictures, photographs, newspaper cut outs, and magazine prints of you covering every inch of every wall. 

“I-I’m sorry if the rope is too tight. I’ve never really done this before.” he said, having the decency to look embarrassed, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from the wall. In particular the far wall near the bed with photographs of you… sleeping. 

You’d never done a photoshoot in bedwear and the lamp in the photograph was unmistakable for the one you kept on your bedside table so how did this person photograph you in your house? How did they get past the security?

Your eyes snapped back to him, a tinge of fear locking in your spine as you regarded him cautiously.

He was rambling, staring at you as if you would disappear any moment before blushing and looking away when he became too embarrassed. 

He said he was your fan. His name was Harper. He-

Harper? 

You remember seeing that name near the top of your concert attendees. 

It was an arduous task to go through your attendee list now that you were relatively famous, but it was a habit your had in your early career days that you had yet to break. Your memory was decent, but the only reason you found the name so familiar is because it was always present, even in your early days as an idol, Harper was always on the attendee list for any of the events you held. 

He wasn’t lying. He was a fan. And he had been following you since the start of your career. The magazine cut outs with your former group members X'ed out faces was only further proof. 

Something that made you smile, giving you determination to keep going knowing you had fans behind you, terrified you to no end now. It made you feel dirty. 

Was this always his intention when he came to your shows? Was he silently plotting ways to kidnap you while attending your concerts?

“It’s just surreal.” he said, voice dream-like as he edged closer to the chair you were sitting in. “Your last concert you were so close that I felt I could reach out and touch you and now…” His hand seemed to extend before he even realized what he was doing, but he quickly slammed it to his chest when you flinched away. 

“I’m sorry!” he said, dropping to his knees as he looked at you desperate and horrified. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just so stupid.”

Expression turning dark, it was as if he turned into someone else as his hand balled into a fist and he began hitting himself over the head. 

“Stupid, stupid. Why would they want you touch them? You fucking idiot.”

It was brutal. You wondered if he was going to give himself a concussion and after a particularly sick thud you winced, capturing his attention once again. 

“Are you okay?”

 You wanted to ask him that. 

Inching closer on his knees, he wrung his hands together violently. 

“You’re my number one.” he confessed softly. “It felt as if I was being saved the first time I saw you perform.”

You felt light-headed watching him. 

“You might not remember but you spoke to me once during a meet and greet. I told you about my life and about how I felt useless and that no one needed me and you gave me courage. You told me the world would notice if I was gone and I’ve followed you ever since.”

It was hard to forget a complete stranger trauma dumping on you. It had been so long that you hadn’t remembered until he brought it up, but you knew what he was talking about. 

He looked younger than he was now, distraught and on the verge of tears. You didn’t really know how to handle a situation like that, but you were afraid he’d do something he’d regret if you didn’t tell him something. It was staggering that arbitrary words you said so long ago had effected him and you to this extent. 

“You saved my life.” he said again. “And I saved you!”

What?

“I’d seen the way the others would look at you. I mean, they can’t help it. You’re too dazzling. But they’d talk about the horrible things they would do to you if they ever got a chance to be with you and if you’d seen some of the things they wrote about on the online forums…”

You’d seen it. It was definitely not for the faint hearted, but you simply ignored things like that, chalking it up as something you would just have to endure given your profession. 

“I wanted to kill them. I wanted to hunt each and every one of them down and make them regret ever demeaning you like that, but it wouldn’t ever stop. It would continue as long as you continued to perform, but now you don’t have to worry about that anymore!”

He gulped, eyes going hazy as he continued to inch closer to the base of the chair. 

“No one is ever going to look at you again. They’ll be left wondering where you went and it’ll be hard to forget you, but it’ll happen. Eventually. And then we can be happy!”

His grin faded into a serious expression as he grabbed the armrests on the chairs. 

“Just me and you. My idol and your number one fan.” 

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #idol reader #yandere fan

[e-dubbc11]

Kill or Be Killed

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Violence, swear words, mentions of abuse, death, sexual reference but PG-13, little fluff

Word Count: 2K-ish

Summary: Billy helps you get rid of a problem

A/N: This a little over the top, I’ll admit it. But whatever, I do what I want 🤣

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Bright red blood slowly trickled down the blade and dripped onto the floor as you stood over him and watched life leave his body. There was a feeling of satisfaction when the light faded from his sad, pitiful eyes but you found it difficult to control your breathing. The shallow movements of your chest expanded and retracted rapidly with every sharp inhale and exhale.

It had been easier than you thought it was going to be. The blade had basically done the hard work for you as it penetrated his skin like it was warm butter. Billy showed you where to stab Cole if he ever came after you again and, if you were able to, twist it so the wound wouldn’t close.

“His lungs will fill up with blood, cutting off the oxygen he needs to breathe.” He had said, all with a sly smile across his lips. “He’ll be gasping for air like a dying fucking fish.”

Billy loved showing you how to defend yourself and the desire you had to learn his ways, turned him on. It made him hard watching you practice self-defense moves or with his Ka-Bar. Billy’s skills were unmatched in hand-to-hand combat, you were learning from the best and no one would ever put their hands on you again. And if they did, they’d pay dearly for it.

The look in Cole’s eyes silently said he regretted stalking you, threatening you and, underestimating you. The words he had hissed into your ear the last time he saw you played over and over again in your head…”You don’t have the guts to kill me! You’re too weak!” And as he lay there wide eyed and dying on your bedroom floor, he knew he had made a big mistake and that you weren’t afraid of him anymore.

The meek and mild girl was gone and replaced with someone he didn’t recognize.

The heart beating inside his chest had been waiting to be silenced. You knew it wasn’t possible but you swore those quick heartbeats of his was the noise you heard thumping loudly in your ears, egging you on and taunting you into smothering the sound of it echoing inside the room.

“Are you weak like he said, sweet girl? Hmmm?” Billy had asked you sharply, his onyx colored eyes narrowed but didn't break eye contact.

In his slight New York accent, his voice was soft and harsh at the same time. You should have been frightened but Billy would never hurt you…he loved you.

Vigorously shaking your head, you replied, “No…I’m not weak, Billy. I’m not!”

“Then show me, baby.” He said, handing you the knife as his lips curled back away from his gnashed teeth.

Billy had you practice day after day, cutting up the dummies and slicing them where it would do the most damage, the places where a real person would bleed out in minutes.

“Ya know what a sharp blade feels like slicing your flesh, y/n? It feels as if the metal has been heated by a torch, almost like the skin is burning even though it’s not. That’s what he’s gonna feel. It’s easy to shoot someone but to actually puncture their flesh, to feel the knife go in, and then to smell the blood on the blade when you pull it out, it’s a high I can’t put into words, exactly.” He had said in a sinister tone.

Billy’s words sent restless shivers down your spine, his handsome features contorted with rage, and you knew you couldn’t live your life the way you had been anymore…on edge. The marks and bruises weren’t physically there but you still saw them sometimes when you looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Teach me,” you had said to Billy.

You didn’t want to be scared of a crazy ex-boyfriend that could be waiting around every corner for you or at the end of a dark alleyway.

Cole had made a promise to you. With his hands firmly around your throat, he promised you would die before anyone else could have you and you would have to kill him if you wanted to stop him. Those were his last words before you plunged the Ka-Bar right into his chest, puncturing his lung just like Billy said it would.

The strong copper scent of Cole’s blood on your knife flooded your sense of smell after you removed it from his chest and your taste buds were picking up the metallic taste of the blood particles in the air.

You weren’t left with any other choice. A restraining order was just a piece of paper; it didn’t stop him from breaking into your home or when he tried to strangle you while you slept. The only thing that would stop him was a hole through his chest.

“Still think I’m weak, asshole?” You had asked Cole curtly through gritted teeth as he clutched his chest, choking on his own blood and unable to breathe.

Billy was used to the kill. He was a scout sniper in the marines and it wasn’t very often but, even now, he still had to take a life when it was necessary, but this was your first time taking someone’s life.

You didn’t want to but Cole wasn’t going to stop, there wasn’t another way out of this except with someone’s death and it wasn’t going to be yours.

You had to beg Billy to let you do this yourself and deep down he knew you could get the job done but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“That’s why you have me! I’m here to protect you!" Shouted Billy.

You brushed his beard gently with your thumbs. “I know you are baby, but I CAN do this and it’s because you showed me how.”

And you made Cole pay. For every horrible thing he had ever done to you, you made him pay with his life. The loud rolls of thunder muffled his raw screams of pain as you pulled the knife from his chest and he fell onto the floor.

You posed the question, “You still think I don’t have the guts to kill you, Cole?” And right on cue, you heard a deafening boom of thunder overhead and saw a bright flash of lightning. It was like a scene right out of a movie where the heroine saves herself from being tormented by the big bad villain.

As you watched Cole’s life fade away into nothing, you tried to stop the devilish smile from stretching across your lips so you just let it happen.

He wouldn’t be able to hurt you ever again, he was gone, lying dead at your feet and you had done that. Your sinister laugh quickly shifted into fresh sobs while you still gripped the blade tightly in your hand.

The rain began to hammer against the window after a loud clap of thunder split the air. Cole’s blood pooled underneath him, spread along the wood floor and stained the white t-shirt he was wearing. You loomed above him with tears streaming down your cheeks, trying to stop your hands from shaking.

With your free hand, you balled it into a fist, clenching it until your nails were digging hard into your skin, leaving marks on your palm while you took a deep breath and forcefully exhaled.

But your heart began to race once again when you heard him call out your name. It was coming from the front door.

“Y/N! Tell me where you are baby, NOW!” Shouted Billy.

The tension in your back and shoulders eased when you heard his voice. And you knew he would stay close by no matter how many times you said you could do this on your own.

“I’m in the bedroom, Billy!” You choked out.

You saw the barrel of a gun pointing into your bedroom, his long agile fingers wrapped tightly around it followed by the rest of his body and very relieved to see his handsome face.

Billy looked at you, down at the floor where Cole was, and then at the knife in your hand. With relief in his eyes, he quickly holstered his gun and hurried over to you.

Your shirt was covered in blood, Cole’s blood but Billy didn’t care, he pulled you flush with his chest anyway to try and soothe you.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m here, ssshhh. He’s gone.” He whispered into your ear.

“I killed him, Billy!” You sobbed into his shirt.

Billy grabbed the sides of your face and tilted it up to look at him.

“You listen to me! He didn’t give you a choice! He wouldn’t have stopped until he took you away from me! The police didn’t give you a choice! What did they give you? Huh? A piece of fucking paper!!” He yelled.

His intense brown eyes appeared darker than you had ever seen them, full of concern and relief at the same time. Those eyes were filled with…love and love only for you. Billy then carefully looked at the marks Cole left on your neck, making sure he wasn’t hurting you.

In barely more than a whisper, you looked down at Cole and said, “I know I shouldn’t say this but I’m glad he’s dead.”

Your own words caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You never thought you would say that about anyone because you were brought up to believe that there has to be good in everyone, right?

But you found out the hard way that that wasn’t true. There are people out there who are just pure evil. Billy knew that from the way he grew up and everything he had gone through in his life. He was hardened by life, that’s why it was easier for him to kill.

“I watched him die, Billy. There was a brief moment where I understood what you meant about the high you get from the scent of someone else’s blood that you’ve killed. I couldn’t help but smile, almost like I enjoyed it…but then I broke down.” You said softly.

Billy’s fingers danced up and down your spine as he said, “You’re not like me, sweet girl. You’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. You’re not broken and soulless, that’s why it’s easier for me. I feel nothing when I kill.”

“That’s not all that you are, Billy. I wouldn’t be with someone I didn’t think had a soul. I know they were all bad people.” You said with a slight smile against his chest.

“And so was Cole, my love.” Said Billy, kissing the top of your head like he always did.

The late night sky was vengeful tonight just as you had been. The rage burned like white hot fire inside as you felt yourself use whatever strength you had left to fight Cole off and stay alive.

Billy held you in silence with nothing but the pinging of the rain against the windows and you squeezed him back, thanking him for being there, for teaching you, and for loving you.

“I love you, Billy. And you are a good man. You’ve always been good to me.” You whispered against his chest.

You could feel him smile against the top of your head as he replied, “I always will be, baby. I love you too.” Billy paused for a minute before he said, “You know what you have to do now.”

Feeling his cool, damp shirt against your cheek, you nodded, pulled away and picked your phone up off of the bed.

A voice on the other end of the phone answered, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

You opened your mouth but no words or even sounds came out. The inside of your mouth was dry as a cold spike of fear washed over you and tension tightly gripped your body. With a nod, Billy’s lips curled into a reassuring smile as if to say “Everything’s gonna be alright, sweet girl.”

The voice on the other end of the phone spoke again, “Hello? Are you there?”

As you closed your eyes, you inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale before answering them.

“Yes, I’m still here. I need help. I just…killed an intruder.”

You will be safe from now on.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

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If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you

[waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways]

Only the Dead 7

part 1

previous

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Damian stiffens, eyeing Phantom warily. ‘Prince?’

Phantom gets a foot underneath himself and pushes himself upright, and then into the air. “Fright Knight,” he says.

“My prince,” says the ghost possessing Red Robin. “We feared you’d passed on! It’s been months without word, and even our best trackers were unable to locate you!”

Phantom wraps both arms around his chest. Fright Knight watches the movement closely, frowning at the green blood spreading through Phantom’s jumpsuit. “Mm,” hums Phantom. “The hunters got me.”

“They did to you as what they did to the subsapients they’d captured,” Fright Knight says. It’s not a question, and Phantom stays silent. “I see.” His hands tighten around the grip of his sword. “That is an act of war. King Pariah will doubtlessly order me to slay them all, and I must admit it is a relief to know they have brought it on themselves.”

“Do not,” Phantom hisses. “I am not in accord with Pariah Dark. The people of this city are innocent. I am more to blame than them.”

“No!” Fright Knight barks. “You are a child, not even old enough to assume the throne! No matter your responsibilities, you are not to blame for the actions of evildoers!”

“Yet how many child ghosts has Pariah Dark created today?” Phantom asks.

Fright Knight looks away. “My prince, I have no desire to fight you. But you know my duty. I am enthralled. I cannot disobey King Pariah’s orders.” Fright Knight looks to Jason, hogtied, squirming and helpless. “He is my quarry. Leave now, my prince. I will not tell King Pariah I saw you here today.”

Phantom steps between the bats and Fright Knight. His eyes glow a vivid blue, and a rapier of ice forms in his hand. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then stop me!” Fright Knight lunges.

Phantom parries with a grunt. He glances at Damian from the corner of his eye. “Take Red Hood and go! I’ll hold him off!”

Though his hands are slick with blood and the pain makes tears prick in his eyes, Damian draws his blade. He didn’t become Robin to let an unknown fight his battles for him, and he didn’t become Robin to leave Drake, his brother, for dead. Next to him, Cass raises her fists, batarang in hand. Together, they leap into the fray.

Still sword locked with Phantom, Fright Knight ducks beneath Damian’s swipe. With his free hand, he reaches out to catch Black Bat’s fist, but she deftly twirls around him to land a strong punch to his shoulder, knocking him backwards. He is only barely able to dodge Phantom’s follow up stab.

Fright Knight rapidly slashes at Black Bat. “Don’t let his sword cut you!” Phantom cries. She ducks an overhead swing and nimbly jumps over a low feint.

Damian slinks behind Fright Knight and thrusts an elbow towards his spine. Fright Knight staggers forwards. Black Bat jabs at his throat, and though Tim’s body gasps and wheezes, the Fright Knight is undeterred. He twists inhumanly and strikes Damian in the cheek with a hard backhand.

Phantom leaps in with quick, graceful stabs. The Fright Knight parries them, seemingly without effot. Phantom switches to a wide slash, which the Fright Knight blocks with a forearm, but it was a feint, and Phantom backflips smoothly, coming up with the point of his blade aimed at Red Robin’s throat. Damian’s breath catches, for an instant convinced he is about to see his brother die, but the Fright Knight easily knocks his thrust aside.

“You’ve gotten rusty, my prince,” the Fright Knight says, lashing out with a kick to Phantom’s gut. Phantom goes flying, but he twists in midair to land on his feet.

“I’m a bit out of practice,” Phantom pants.

“Nonetheless, it seems you’ve surrounded yourself with capable allies,” the Fright Knight says. Cass leaps out of the shadows, throwing a batarang. The Fright Knight knocks it away with his sword, but it seems like he’s too slow to block her follow up punch. Before it connects, however, a second, heavily armored arm emerges from within Red Robin’s arm to grab her wrist. Cass’ eyes widen. “Unfortunately, they are no match for me.” He twists her wrist harshly, and Cass screams as it audibly snaps. The Fright Knight then throws her into the slide hard enough to make it collapse. She doesn’t get back up.

Enraged, Damian lunges at the Fright Knight. He easily blocks Damian’s strike with his sword, and then with a twist of his wrist he sends Damian’s blade flying out of his blood slicked hands. With his free hand, he grabs Damian by the throat, and hoists him into the air with strength greather than Red Robin’s body should be capable of. Damian grabs the Fright Knight’s wrist and kicks at Red Robin’s body, but the Fright Knight doesn’t even seem to feel it. Desperately, Damian tries and fails to inhale.

Fright Knight brings his blade up to Damian’s throat. “I apologize, but I must do this.”

“You don’t!” Phantom cries. “He isn’t your target!”

Fright Knight casts a long look at Phantom, then unceremoniously drops Damian. Damian gasps. “You are correct,” he says, turning towards where Jason lays. “It seems I’ve gotten carried away-- ah--“

At the Fright Knight’s stutter, Damian looks at Jason. Cass is there, and Jason is slung over the shoulder of her broken wrist. She pulls out her grapple with her uninjured hand. “Retreat,” she says, and grapples up to the nearest roof. She swiftly disappears into the shadows.

Fright Knight takes a step to follow, but Phantom intercepts him. “Go!” he shouts at Damian. “I’ll catch up!”

Damian grits his teeth. Retreating rankles like nothing else, but Damian is injured and tired, and even if he were at his best the Fright Knight would be a difficult opponent.

“Don’t kill Red Robin,” Damian tells Phantom.

“Of course! What do you take me for?!”

Damian retrieves his blade, turns, and runs.

_____

@coruscateselene @somecrappyclone @quirky-gardener @undead-essence @gin2212 @the-archer-goddess @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @krzys2000 @thegreawizards @luckykittens198 @violently-lovely @wackyattack @0j-9 @darkhinauniverse @just-for-dpxdc @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @fisticuffsatapplebees @ saltyladynightmare @all-mights-asscheeks @icedbluesoul

#im glad to tag anyone who asks #and if you don't want to be tagged anymore please tell me #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #only the dead au

[ohtobealady]

Drabbles List

9: Righteousness

“Well, I think I’ll go up.”

He nearly startled at her quiet voice. None of them had spoken much in the several minutes that had prefaced her announcement; Mary sitting and staring into the fire while he and her parents sipped their various drinks. But now as she rose, Harold quickly swallowed his most recent sip of whiskey and stood as well. He watched her in the firelit library, tall and slender, as she bent to kiss her parents’ cheeks. Their whispered good nights echoed intimately in the quiet, and Harold felt heat prickle his face. He felt like a stranger.

He looked elsewhere: the spines of old books, the sparkling crystal decanter, the glow of the lamp in the corner of the room. He did this—acted upon his manners that told him not to intrude on a private moment—regardless of the facts: the woman Mary now kissed, their cheeks quickly pressing, was his own sister.

And, Mary, tall and slender, was his niece. By blood.

He tried his best to bury the unease that crept into his features when she looked at him. He tried to feel saddened by his lack of familial affection for her. But he didn’t feel sad. Regret, yes. But sorrow? He hardly knew her. He’d only met her thrice, this daughter of his only sister—his only sibling. He’d only seen her three separate times in his life, his only sister’s daughter who looked so much like his own mother and grandmother…and who he supposed also looked like his sister, too, had he seen his sister at all between the end of adolescence and middle-age.

Harold had to force himself to grin at her as she passed.

“Good night, Uncle Harold,” she said just as politely, “And sleep well.”

He wished her what he thought sounded a very uncle-like good night as she left the library, and then bringing his whiskey to his lips, he sat. And then he peered up at Cora.

He found she also peered at him.

He took another sip of his drink. “I hope I haven’t kept her awake,” he managed after a moment. “I know she has meetings in the morning.”

Cora made a deep sound, a wry laugh, and brought her own small cup to her lips. “Don’t worry about her.”

“Indeed.” Robert laughed, too. “She could lead the tenants’ meeting in her sleep.”

“She’s more than capable,” Cora agreed, and then, just as it was before Mary’s departure, the room settled into silence.

Harold shifted in his seat near the service table. He let his eyes rove to where his sister and her husband shared a red sofa. Cora’s shoulders were slumped, her posture tired, her hands gently holding her cup. She gazed absently into the fireplace beside her. And Robert, his back reclined into the red cushions, gazed upon her.

Harold took another sip of whiskey, and he looked away.

He’d grown to know Robert a little better, ever since the Teapot Dome business—not well, of course, but better. But Cora … he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with her.

He sipped; he watched the firelight, and his memory prodded him. Forty years before and riding in the carriage with Mother and Father to Crawley House—his parents bitterly arguing; dining with Lord and Lady Grantham and every bite of food somehow tasting worse than the one before; watching Father stare at Cora’s fiancé, and then watching Cora stare at Father.

Oh. And Harold had teased her, too, he remembered sharply. “It’s not bad if you’re happy with cold baths for the rest of your life.”

He hadn’t known it would make her cry.

He remembered sitting beside her on the stone step. He remembered that it was dark and cold. He remembered nudging her gently as she wept and offering his flask; he remembered the stab of surprise when she took it. It was one of the few things they’d ever shared.

Yes. He remembered. And he remembered he’d seen it all more clearly than his mother or even Cora herself. He’d seen his sister’s marriage as something tragic–a loss and not a gain; she was not just wooed for her money, but she was set out as bait by her own mother.

Mother. He wondered, briefly, what she thought of it all in the end—was she proud of what she’d done with her only daughter? Of what Robert had done with her only daughter? Harold studied it all over again, their childhood, letting memories trip through his mind as he sat in his sister’s library. He watched Mother in every flicker of memory, and he knew. She’d been two different mothers. His mother had been confident and amusing, and yes a little demanding, but harmless.

Cora’s hadn’t.

“Oh dear.”

He blinked, coming back to present at the sound of Cora’s voice. It took him another moment to realize that he’d been staring at Cora in their silence, and not knowing what else to do, he forced his mouth into a grin.

“I’m afraid I have to go up, too.”

He watched his sister stand, and then as his brother-in-law stood after her. Harold shuffled to his feet.

“No, no,” he heard Cora mutter at Robert. “Stay and finish your drinks.” She said something else that he couldn’t quite hear, but kept grinning nonetheless when she looked over at him. “My bedtime is rather early these days,” she needlessly explained, and Harold nodded at her, and once again, he looked away when she pressed a quick kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Good night.”

“Yes. Good night,” he called when she passed him, and Harold let his eyes move to Robert across the room. Robert sighed. And Harold sat. And for a few moments more, it was silent.

“Please don’t feel—“

Harold anticipated this, and he cut him off. “No. She’s sick. Let her go up.”

Robert, Harold noticed, opened and then closed his mouth.

“We can talk more freely without the women, anyway.” He heard his own words echo back to him and he frowned. This wasn’t some sort of club. And he certainly wouldn’t talk that freely with Robert. He took a larger sip of whiskey. He tried again. “I mean. About them. Well, Cora. And uh, how she’s been.”

He saw Robert lift his chin.

Harold leaned back in his chair. “She looks well enough. I assume the treatments are working? For the anemia?”

His brother-in-law took in a deep breath, and submitting, he finally sat. “Yes,” he admitted. “I hope they are. They’re dreadfully unpleasant, but she’s quite a trooper.”

“Cora? Oh, sure.” Harold added a quick smile. “She was always tougher than she looked.”

Across from him, sitting near the fireplace, Robert nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Quiet again. And then silence. They’d somehow wandered into uncomfortable territory, though it was clear neither of them was willing to say why. Harold looked into the amber liquid in his glass and tilted it one way and then the other. “You, uh—.” He thought of the days before her wedding. Forty years ago. He thought of Mother. And he sighed, life was short. And his family was few. It was right. To hell with it. “You’ve taken good care of her.”

He didn’t imagine the way Robert’s face flushed. “Ah, well.” He watched the way Robert stared into the fire, nodding quickly. “I’d like to think we’ve taken good care of each other.” His tone seemed light, airy, almost as if he was sharing a joke with Harold instead of discussing the life he’d shared with Cora. Instead of hearing the words Harold was trying to say in sincerity. Since Mother’s death, Harold tried to live sincerely.

“I mean it, y’know.”

At this, Robert met his eye. And Harold exhaled. The room felt warmer.

“Do you mind if I’m honest?”

“No,” his brother-in-law said, though Harold saw the way his shoulders straightened. “Please feel free.”

“I’m sure to you it’ll seem too American, all these feelings, but uh … it’s important to me.”

If Robert had looked uncomfortable before, now he looked as if he sat on hot coals.

“I..uh…I didn’t like you. Not for years.”

“Oh.”

Harold shook his head. “But I want to tell you now, that I was wrong.”

“I see.” Robert dipped his chin, and then lifted it again. “Thank you,” he tried, and Harold felt guilty.

“It wasn’t you, really. It was watching you and Cora back then, the wedding and all that.”

“That was quite some time ago—“

“Yes. But, uh, well it made me realize what we were all about. Money and social standings and all that baloney. It wasn’t right.”

Robert nodded, and then creased his brows. “Baloney meaning—“

“Oh, y’know. Bullshit.”

He was glad this elicited a small, choking chortle from his brother-in-law who nodded again. “Yes. I must admit that the older I become, the more I find myself agreeing. Some of the things I put such stock in was nonsense. And I,” he paused, and after a short moment, he met Harold’s eye. “I’ve always been quite ashamed of myself for my intentions in pursuing Cora. I wasn’t able to express this to your mother, or father, but—“

“—Ah, you didn’t fool anyone. We all knew you didn’t love her.”

The eye contact was broken. “—but I have—“

“But we also knew she loved you.”

“Harold—“

But he didn’t let Robert continue. “And that’s what really, uh, stirred things up in here for me.” Harold touched at his temple. And then, after a moment, he touched his chest. “But I think uh…” Harold shrugged. “I think my sister is braver than I am.”

He heard Robert say quietly, “She's certainly braver than I.”

“And I suppose she knew that whatever she felt was worth more than her money. So …” he trailed off.

And Robert was silent.

They sat with that for a moment, until at last, Harold moved in his chair. “I’m sorry,” he said. He forced a grin to show he meant it. “I am. And if it counts for anything, I think all my self-righteousness has spoiled whatever I’ve got left of life.” He swallowed. “I shouldn’t have avoided you. And now that she’s the only family I’ve got, I regret that I stayed away.”

Robert was quiet. And then, he nodded. “Losing one’s mother does incite rather a lesson in mortality. And looking back at one’s life to make amends.” Harold watched him. He watched the way Robert held his eye, and then as he looked away back into the fire. “I understand.”

Harold pressed his lips and hummed. And then, after quiet had stretched on and on, Robert cleared his throat. “Edith comes in tomorrow afternoon, I believe.” He paused. He took the last sip of his whiskey. “With her children. And Tom with his. Of course, George may want to monopolize your time if you promise him stories of New York skyscrapers. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted him with my stories of Egypt.”

“How’s that?”

“You mentioned family. I wasn’t sure you knew the plans.”

The fire crackled loudly between them as Harold watched Robert lean back into the red sofa and glance over at him. “I warn you, your dear sister spoils the grandchildren.”

Harold blinked, in slow realization, and laughed gratefully. “That seems like something she’d do.”

Robert nodded, smiling.

#cobert drabbles #Harold Levinson #Robert Crawley #words just thrown out there #and these used to be October drabbles but now they’re just drabbles because it’s very much not October #righteousness was hard

[juggalomary]

did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

-

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

#fanfic #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ao3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #ao3 crosspost #kate laswell #agnst #heavy angst #main character death #don’t like don’t read

[sserpente]

The Demobat Queen

A/N: Okay, hear me out. I got this idea from the app that shall not be named and then it suddenly turned into 10k words. Classic.

Synopsis: After the Demobats attack Eddie, you find him dead in the dirt. At least that is what you think he is. But when he coughs, you see a chance. A chance to be less lonely in this dark and gloomy dimension. You feed him your blood to heal him and, after some initial suspicion, he warms up to you. For the first time ever, you get to experience what it’s like to have a friend. But before you can explore your growing feelings for Eddie, the desire to be close to him, to kiss him even, he makes it his mission to return back to Hawkins, to leave you behind for good. You don’t really blame him. He doesn’t belong here. And after all, a bat’s love can never be reciprocated… right?

Words: 10669 Warnings: fluff, angst, blood and feeding, near-death experiences, violence, burns/fire, vampire/bat!Reader

“I made this world mine. I own it. I own you.”

“You don’t control me, Henry. You never did. We struck a bargain and we agreed to live in peace after that. Remember that.” Your eyes flashed red as you spoke, the veins under your eyes protruding and giving you a downright eerie look, you could see it through the dirty mirror in the house you resided in.

Henry—or what was left of him—remained unfazed. Growling, he turned away from you.

“I’ve kept my word so far. You let them come too close,” you stressed.

His flesh was singed, soot covering his half-rotten limbs from the burning petrol. Tilting your head, you narrowed your red eyes at him and dug your nails into your fists until they stung.

“Your thirst for revenge will kill you eventually and you know that.”

“You dare threaten me?”

“I have no desire to kill you, you know that. So why would I threaten you with it? The girl you’re after… she can’t be worth all of this trouble. I want a way out. I want to be up there, I want a real life.”

“You don’t belong there,” he growled.

“You are the reason they would hunt me down like a rabid animal now.” This time, his growl practically tore through the cool darkness around you. Turning on your heel, you marched away from him, feeling his burning gaze on your back as you conjured your bat-like wings, spread them, and took off without looking back.

You counted a dozen or so bats dead on the cold and uneven ground of the trailer park. Stabbed, beaten to death, or sliced open by a sharp object. Your heart bled upon seeing their lifeless bodies, yet more victims of Henry’s thirst for vengeance.

He might not have controlled you… yet even though the bats listened to you and did your bidding based on trust and likeliness, it was Henry who controlled what happened in this dimension. You took a deep breath, the metallic smell of blood filling your nostrils and igniting your hunger.

You landed, scanning the ground for the source when you spotted a young man, bloody and torn open by the bats, with three of them still feasting on his flesh. He was alone—collateral damage after a failed assassination attempt. If anyone had been with him when he died, they’d had to leave his body behind. A sigh escaped your lips as your feet touched the ground and you tucked your wings away, your head whipping in his direction when he coughed with a start, blood presumably pooling in his lungs and choking him from the inside out. Your lips parted. He’s still alive.

“Shoo! That’s enough!” The bats didn’t listen. Not until you flung them out of the way with your bare hands. “I said that’s enough! Off with you now!”

His eyes were closed, his white and ripped shirt drenched in blood and revealing the countless bite marks all over his chest. More blood was dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he coughed again. You knelt next to him, indecisiveness creeping up your spine.

You could heal him with your blood. But if you were too late, if he was too close to death already… Henry would kill you if you turned him, made him part of this world. You cursed under your breath when your fangs forced their way past your lips, causing you to hiss. Only another heartbeat passed before you brought your wrist to your lips and sunk your canines into it, drawing blood to feed him.

His eyes remained shut even when he felt your cool skin against his mouth. He gagged soon after your blood poured down his throat.

“Drink… drink it,” you whispered. Henry could not hear you—he had long stopped keeping tabs on you. There was nothing you could do, after all. But you could tell the boy was scared. He was young, on the verge of proper manhood, twenty-two at most. As you drew away, you wondered just how he had winded up in this fruitless conquest to kill a monster who controlled an entire dimension.

“Help me carry him home,” was all you said when he lost consciousness again. The bats hissed before obeying you, digging their claws into his clothes to carry him off. You followed suit.

Your so-called home must have been a lively house up in the light dimension, as you liked to call it. Inhabited by a happy family, perhaps. Here, it was but a depressing and empty place to retreat to, a mere illusion of civilisation. This dimension was a lonely one, after all.

You flinched when the young man who now recovered on your bed finally gasped for air a few hours later and sat up straight as if awoken by a nightmare. You hurried over to his side, gently forcing him back on the mattress. It had taken him long enough.

“Easy… easy! Take it slow.”

“W-wha…” He coughed, eyes widening when he noticed you properly. Your smile was hesitant, timid.

“Welcome back. I was worried you wouldn’t make it. You lost a lot of blood.”

“W-hat the hell… happened?”

“Well, you almost died. And you took down quite a few of my bats with you.” In an instant, his expression grew harder. Coldly, he scanned your form, hostility radiating from him. Granted, you probably looked quite intimidating, dressed all in leather and a long coat made of the same material. He sat up again.

“You need to rest.” When he simply stared at you, you pushed him back into a lying position. “I said rest. I healed you with my blood,” you continued. “I don’t just do that lightly, it’s incredibly risky. You need to rest for it to circulate through your body properly. It will take a while. Be patient.”

“You… fed me your blood,” he stated then. To be honest, it sounded more like a question. You nodded matter-of-factly.

“Who are you?”

“I haven’t used my name in so long that I think I can’t remember it anymore. Why don’t you give me one?” It was true. Your real name was buried along with those you had taken to the grave. Creatures, humanoids with a thirst for blood like you before they’d cast you out of what little of a society this dimension possessed. Your name was there, of course. You hadn’t literally forgotten it. But it sounded so foreign and strange to you that it felt wrong to still use it. Especially after making a deal with who could only be compared to the devil.

“Then what are you?” he asked instead. He swallowed thickly, noticing only now that you had cleared his face of all the blood. You had taken his bandana off to clean him up while he was still unconscious. It was currently in a pile with the rest of the bloody shreds of fabric you had used.

“I believe you can answer that question for yourself. But I don’t have powers like Henry does.”

“Henry? You mean Vecna? You’re with him?” he bellowed.

“Vecna? Is that what you call him up there? I’m not with him. I struck a deal with him out of necessity. I wanted to survive when he showed up, much like you now,” you snapped.

“What the hell does that mean then, am I turning into a vampire?”

“More like a humanoid bat but… no… it’s more complicated than that. You would have to die with my blood still in your system. You didn’t. Give it a few days and you’ll be fine, Eddie.”

The young man blinked at you. “How do you know my name?”

“What, Eddie? Is that really your name? I was making a joke. It’s a reference. Eddie Van Halen, you know? You look a little like him.”

Eddie stared at you for a moment, unable to return the smile you offered him. “Was there… was there anyone else there? When you found me?”

You shook your head. “No. You were alone.”

Eddie nodded, realising it was probably for the best that whoever had left him behind had done so for their own good.

“You must be famished. We need to find you some food. Can I trust you’ll stay here and won’t wander off? I can’t guarantee my bats will leave you alone when I’m not near.”

“You gotta get those fuckers under control then…” he mumbled, sitting up for the third time. You raised your eyebrows.

“If you are referring to the lake, you intruded on their territory. They were just defending it. Besides, I don’t control them. They just… choose to do as I say.”

“They almost killed Steve!”

“Whoever Steve is, I’m sure he won’t make the same mistake again then. Nor will you. Stay put until I’m back. If I had wanted to hurt you, I would have already. Besides, I can’t risk Henry finding you here.”

It sounded absurd but the restaurants in the light dimension… threw perfectly consumable food out, more than you could count. Eventually, it would appear here as well and if you were fast enough, you would be able to take it with you for Eddie to eat and regain his strength before it went rotten. You flew off outside your house, praying that the metalhead would listen to reason and do as he was told.

About twenty minutes or so later—time was relative down here, after all—you returned with two pizza boxes containing leftovers that were still warm when they appeared in between some black plastic bags.

The air had cooled it all down only a moment after but it would do. For just a brief moment, as you dug your hands into the bins behind the restaurant, you wondered why you bothered helping him in the first place. But the answer was obvious, was it not? You were lonely down here. Henry was not one for company and he was not one for chit-chat. Decades in solitude were gruesome, besides… you were not him. You might have been what Eddie referred to as a vampire but that did not make you a ruthless killer. You were a survivor.

“Eddie?”

“Still here…”

Relieved, you walked up the stairs and back into the room you had chosen for your bedroom, pizza boxes in hand.

“You are indeed.”

“There’s not exactly… lots of places for me to go, so…”

You smirked. “Fair point. And a wise choice. It’s not safe out there if you don’t know your way around.” You placed the cardboard boxes in front of him. “It’s not much but… it’ll do.” Eddie stared at them for a second. Next thing you knew, he opened them both, brown eyes widening. He dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in ages. Well, he probably hadn’t. You didn’t stop him. He needed all the sustenance he could get until your blood was out of his system.

“So, uh… you’re Vecna’s right hand then?” he said almost casually with his mouth full.

“I happen to exist in the same dimension. He doesn’t control me, we came to a more or less peaceful agreement. I mean you no harm, Eddie. I have no desire in destroying Hawkins, not like him.”

He swallowed. “Do you… consume blood?”

“I do. Occasionally. I need it to survive but I can go without it for a long time. It gives me… strength. And if I don’t feed for a while, I do get fatigued and burned out but other than that… I’m just like you. Well… minus the wings. I’m sure you don’t have those,” you added, winking at him.

“Who… or what… do you feed on?” he asked suspiciously in return.

“Creatures from this dimension… until, um…”

“What, like Demogorgons and shit?”

“What?”

“Those huge things with fangs for a face that looks like a flower? I’ve never seen one myself luckily but I’ve been told they’re quite terrifying.”

“I… if that’s what you want to call them. But I… I did try human blood when a few poor unfortunate souls ended up here against their will. I have no desire to make that a habit though just in case you’re still worried I am fattening you for slaughter.”

Eddie gave you a silent look before he continued eating. You watched him quietly with your arms crossed after sitting down at the small vanity in the room. The bats outside your house screeched, making you sigh.

“I’ll be right back…”

They knew he was in there, hungry for his blood and eager to feast, assuming he was as good as dead and that his body shouldn’t go to waste.

“Shut it! He’s off limits, do you hear me?” The bats flew around you in circles, following your every movement. One of them landed on your shoulder, screeching loudly as if to complain.

“No. He’s alive and well. Besides, he has my blood in his system at the moment. Stay away from him.” The bats flew a few more circles around you, following your hand as you pointed at the dark and gloomy sky.

“Kas…” Eddie suddenly said. You spun around, not having realised that he had followed you outside, hiding behind a garden rock. No wonder the bats were almost going insane.

You frowned. “Kas?”

Eddie slowly emerged once the last bat was out of sight. “You said you don’t have a name. That’s what I’m gonna call you. I figured… that fits?”

“Kas…” you repeated the name as if tasting a piece of candy. “Okay… I like it.”

“Is this because we are in a darker version of where you come from or is your room really this chaotic?” Grinning, you followed after him. Eddie’s room was plastered with metal band posters and a huge hand-drawn flag reading “Corroded Coffin”. Clothes and other bits and bobs lay scattered all over the place, along with the odd guitar pick, questionable décor, and… condoms on the nightstand. You blushed.

“Come on, it’s not that chaotic.”

Eddie had insisted on returning here and, after having him practically beg you for two days straight, you had agreed to accompany him. Even though the bats had kept their promise and did not lurk around for him anymore, it was still way too dangerous to let him roam freely around here. You liked the goofy metalhead, truly. Eddie was a deeply misunderstand young man with a knack for theatrics and for making people laugh. You shook your head, clearly disagreeing with him here. The room was an utter mess.

“So… you’re saying they blamed you for the murders in Hawkins? Because of a game you play?”

“Yepp… they needed a villain to hunt down and I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he mused, kicking a stool out of the way to reach for a guitar. It wasn’t the one he’d used on top of his trailer—you had heard him play, provoke the bats and their sensitive ears to distract Henry.

“They’re gullible…”

“Yeah, they think I’m a satanic cult leader and worship the devil.” He strummed the guitar once. It sounded horribly off, so he sat down to tune it.

“And do you?” you joked.

“Only on Sundays,” he replied, making you laugh while exploring the room some more.

“Do you live here alone?”

“Oh no, with my uncle. He works nights so I’m alone a lot.”

“Your uncle… and you’re still at school?” The schoolbooks on one of the shelves gave it away.

“I was supposed to graduate almost three years ago but…”—he drew the word out—“I guess we can’t all be Albert Einsteins.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. Even though this room is three years younger than that. That’s a pity. The new Metallica record would have made this place a lot better,” he added looking around.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, tilting your head with your arms crossed.

“Oh, Metallica is only one of the best metal bands in existence.”

“No, not that part, I know who Metallica is, believe it or not.” In fact, you knew a lot of bands. That restaurant you got your pizza from for Eddie had an old jukebox with dozens of records on it. It didn’t work down here but at least, it gave you some sort of idea of pop culture and music trends. “What do you mean by ‘this room is three years younger than you’?”

“You didn’t know that?” Eddie looked up from his guitar. It didn’t sound like a question. You still shook your head.

“No, I didn’t…”

“This place is quite literally three years behind. I mean, it’s a parallel world, right? Everything that happens up there in the real world, happens here as well. Only three years later.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Right. So then that means the food you ate earlier was three years old. Sorry about that.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’ve eaten worse stuff. Wayne and I are horrible cooks.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes.”

“What about your parents? Where are they?”

“Well…” Avoiding your gaze as if he was ashamed all of a sudden, his fingers played around with the tuning pegs. “My mum left when I was just a kid… I don’t really remember her and my old man… is currently in prison.”

“Oh.” You weren’t going to ask why. By the looks of it and Eddie’s darkening expression, it couldn’t be too good.

Eddie strummed the guitar again, satisfied with the sound this time. The chords he played to follow up sounded beautiful—so melodic and calming compared to the screeching of your bat friends and the hungry growls of the other creatures residing around here. Not to mention the sounds Henry made every now and then, thinking he was scary. Well, not to you. To those kids, to Eddie… definitely. You shuddered.

“How… how long have you been here?” he suddenly asked.

“It’s hard to say… now that I know that I’ve been living in the past but… I’ve… just… always been here. My whole life. It’s always been… I’ve always been… like this.” You gave him a dramatic half-bow, pushing away the thought of the few like you that remained and that would kill you on sight.

“Shit, how old are you?”

You shrugged. “Judging by the calendars you humans started to make… I would say a couple of hundred years.”

Eddie nodded, processing your words all but flabbergasted. “And you never thought of leaving?”

“I didn’t know I could. Not until the veil between our dimensions cracked and opened up gates for the first time. But not all of them are the same, not since Henry started killing.”

“I need to get out of here,” he said. Another strum, as if to emphasise his statement. Your heart almost skipped a beat. He wanted to leave. But of course he did. There was nothing here for him. In fact, as a human, the atmosphere would sooner or later kill him. He didn’t even know you that well, he had no reason to stay, and even if he did… some depraved and delusional part of you had imagined that for the first time in over a decade, you’d have a friend by your side. You swallowed. Perhaps even more. The way his fingers played that guitar, a stark contrast against the black colour of the instrument and the handmade writing on it… That simple action hit you square in the face like a blow. Eddie was bloody handsome.

“You… want to go back,” you finally choked out just to say anything at all.

“Yeah…?”

“No, of course you do. You couldn’t possibly stay here.”

He nodded, slowly. “They all think I’m dead, that should give me an advantage for a while. I’m still… wanted for murder, after all.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Another thoughtful nod. This young man was carrying a burden far too heavy for his age. He paused when you said nothing else. “You said there were cracks… now… between the dimensions?”

“There are. But they would literally tear you in half if you attempted to walk through them. Even… what did you call them the other day? Demogorgons? Even they couldn’t make it through. Henry can. He is the only one who can. You need a smaller gate. I know where to find one.”

Eddie looked up. “There used to be one here. And at the lake and… and the forest. There’s different ones now? More?”

You nodded.

“Can you take me there?”

“I can but not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Eddie, we need to wait for my blood to be out of your system entirely. If something happens to you when you’re back… if you die… you’ll turn into a vampire just like me.”

“Right… How long do we need to wait then?” The suspicion in his voice was clearly audible, eliciting a defeated sigh from you.

“Just a couple more days to be sure, please. Then I will take you to a gate, I promise.”

Eddie nodded once more, strumming another chord.

“We should head back soon. The bats get hungry around this time. I don’t want to draw any attention to you.”

“Why can’t we just stay here?” he asked. The innocence in his voice nearly had you melt… and the canines hidden away in your gums pressing to the surface eagerly.

“Here? Are you sure?”

“Yeah… unless you, uh… sleep in a coffin?”

“Oh, ouch, wow, that is an awful stereotype.” You grinned. “I don’t sleep in a coffin. I do sleep upside down sometimes though.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie’s eyes widened, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“No! Don’t you have sarcasm up there?”

Eddie put his guitar away and made himself comfortable on his unmade bed. “You’re uh… welcome to join me then. Bed’s big enough.”

Tilting your head, you took a hesitant step forward. “Aren’t you afraid I’m gonna bite you in your sleep?”

“I’d be as good as dead down here without your help, so uh… you might as well.” His bitter smile broke your heart but then again, what did you expect? That he’d fall to his knees before you in gratitude? You might have saved him but he had no reason to believe you had not done so for your own selfish gain, to keep him as a living blood bag. While a dark and malicious part of you buried deep in your heart rejoiced at the thought of that, the butterflies in your stomach stopped the dangerous thoughts from crawling to the surface.

“Alright then… only for a few hours. Then you grab what you need and we head back. It’s not too safe in this area.”

“Neither here nor in the real world…” he muttered. Eddie closed his eyes, his body relaxing almost fast enough for you to be taken aback by it. He’s still exhausted. Of course he was still exhausted. He almost fucking died and was now regenerating with your blood. You’d truly taken a risk with him—and you could only hope that Eddie wasn’t going to take any damage from your emergency medicine.

By the time you finally laid down next to him, the cute metalhead was sound asleep.

You knew you were in trouble when the butterflies in your belly fed on Eddie’s presence as if he was a drug, sweeter than any blood you had ever tasted. Over the next few days, long talks, and more three-year-old pizza, Eddie quickly became the closest to what you would call a partner in crime. You’d never had one—you wouldn’t know what it was truly like but if there was one thing you were certain about it was the fact that you were not supposed to desire a friend the way you did. To want to be close to him, listen to his heartbeat, feel that lively vein pulse beneath the sensitive skin of his neck, and find out if his lips were as soft as they looked…

“… so each class has different attributes and skills and weaknesses.” For the past hour, Eddie had been attempting to explain Dungeons and Dragons to you. You only understood half of what he was rambling but his passion for the fantasy game was reflected in every single word he spoke. He was sprawled out on the bed with an old D&D handbook he had found under his bed, one he had lost around two years ago, so he’d told you.

Very soon now, you’d venture out to the gate you had promised to bring him to. You’d wanted to wait until the equivalent of daytime just in case your bats decided to disobey you after all.

You’d miss him. As if he’d been in your life for years, you could already feel your heart tearing, leaving a void that would never heal. Were you being dramatic? Yes. But that changed nothing about the fact you were slowly realising that you, in the shortest time possible, had fallen in love with him.

“Eddie? Why don’t you tell me about those warlocks on the way to the gate?” you interrupted him gently. If you ripped him out of your life like a plaster, quick and easy, perhaps it’d hurt less. The sooner he was gone, the sooner you could learn to forget him.

Keep him with you. Feed him more of your blood. Make him stay. Your primal instincts mixed with your growing feelings, making your canines press against your gums almost painfully. Stop. It’s time to say goodbye.

Eddie paused, glancing out of the window. Daylight was barely distinguishable from the night down here but the look of relief and excitement that washed over his face felt like a dagger lodging itself deep into your gut.

“Okay. Let me, uh… grab my things.” You did, watching each and every single one of his movements with curiosity and fascination. If you asked if you could come with him, what would he say? Would he laugh at you? Look at you incredulously? Both?

“You think I could just take that D&D book with me?”

You chuckled. “I don’t see why not. No one will miss it here.”

“Then, um… I’m all set.”

“Good.” You smiled sadly. “Then let’s go.”

Perhaps you’d just stay in Eddie’s room, make it your new home. No one else was going to claim it once he was gone and that way… that way you could keep him in your memory. Your link to the outside world, the one friend you’d ever had down here in this lonely hellhole. You were like a lovesick puppy, detached from reality and what could and could not be, weren’t you? You were pathetic.

You shook your head to chase away the thoughts as Eddie followed you through the gloomy dimension you’d learned they called the Upside Down towards one of the more hidden gates in the forest you had discovered on the same day you had found him after hunting.

And by the time you reached it… he might as well take your heart with him too.

“Here. You’ll have to crawl through. I… I’m not sure what you should expect on the other side but… good luck. You’re innocent, Eddie, I refuse to believe you won’t be able to clear things up.”

“Yeah… maybe. I hope. Uh…” He stared at the hole in the tree stump as if it’d disappear if he took his brown eyes off of it.

“Thanks. For uh… everything. You saved my life.”

“My pleasure. Oh… you might want this back before you leave.”

Your hands were shaking as you pulled his bandana out of your back pocket. You’d tried to clean the blood off of it but you assumed that up in the real world, they’d have functioning washing machines.

Eddie reached for it with a smile. “Thought I lost it.”

“Well, you didn’t.” You stood on your tiptoes then, gently placing your palms on his chest to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Ask me to come with you. Ask me to stay with you. Please… tell me you don’t want me to stay here all on my own…

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked, tilting his head when I pulled away again, reluctantly removing my hands from him.

“I’ll… be fine. I’ve always been here, remember? Good luck, Eddie.”

“B-bye,” he said, waving awkwardly before getting to the gooey ground.

And with every inch he crawled forward, your heart broke a little more until eventually… he was gone.

Fuck, were those tears? Your eyes were burning, your vision was all blurry. You blinked, frantically, to scare them away. It was for the best. Eddie didn’t belong here. Sooner or later, he would have faced the consequences of staying down here. The atmosphere was toxic to humans, you reminded yourself, the lack of sunlight and vitamin D a constant threat to his well-being, not to mention his poor nutrition if he had kept eating leftovers from literal trash cans.

And yet… yet a part of you had hoped that, even after such a short time, Eddie would want to stay with you. He was an outcast in Hawkins, feared and hated by the majority of its people but here… here, he had someone who cared. Was that selfish? Probably. If only… if only you had bothered to find out if his lips were as soft as they looked. If only you had been able to capture the moment of sleeping in his arms forever. But the memory would fade, just like your real name. Kas. You smiled to yourself. That was who you were now. You would use his name for you with pride.

When you shoved your hands into the pockets of your leather coat, something hard and cold brushed against your knuckles. Frowning, you blinked once more, pulling out a tiny silver object. Your lips parted when you realised that it was one of Eddie’s rings. A silver cross surrounded by four skulls. Don’t forget me. He must have slipped it in your pocket when you’d kissed him goodbye. A sad smile tugged on the corners of your mouth before you slid it on.

Then your heart sank. You felt his presence before you glanced behind you. You didn’t turn around to face him.

“What do you want, Henry?”

“You hid a boy here. Nursed him back to health. What for?”

“Leave him out of it. He was just collateral damage to you anyway. And it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone now. He’s back in Hawkins.”

“Then he will die regardless. They will all die. Remember what you promised me.”

“I did my part, Henry. The bats did what you asked them to, they protected your precious home and they will wreak havoc once the cracks are safe enough to… travel through. There’s nothing more I can do to help you.”

Henry growled and you spun around, fuming. “Thanks to you, I’ll never be able to have a life up there. That was the one thing you promised me. That I would be able to leave this place.”

“You will, bat. No need to remind me.” Bat. Not Kas. Not what Eddie had named you.

“Yes. I will return to a pile of ashes and decay.” To a place where, even if Hawkins’ people mysteriously survived, you could never be with Eddie simply because of what you were. “They’ll start another attempt, you know,” you insisted when he turned to leave. “They will not stop until you’re dead. If I have learned anything about Hawkins, it’s that they will fight back until their very last breath.”

“Then their very last breath it shall be,” Henry responded. You flinched when he made the gate disappear with but a flick of his wrist—long, gooey vines annihilating the only way up that you knew currently existed. Your only way up should you ever decide to take the risk and leave, hoping the humans would not hunt you down simply because you came from the Upside Down. Not if, you realised. When.

You hissed at Henry, baring your fangs before he vanished, and twisting the silver ring on your finger. You had to warn Eddie. You owed him that.

Before the goofy metalhead came into your life, you hadn’t known your heart to be capable of so many emotions at once. You longed for him, missed him with every fibre of your being, and yet, with every step you ventured out further away from his trailer in search of another gate to reunite with him, the more your heart bled for your bats.

Leaving them behind and to their fate after what you had asked them to do… it felt wrong to leave them in the lurch but what other choice did you have? Hundreds, if not thousands of people would have to let their life up in the real world where, according to Eddie’s stories, there were oceans and actual sunlight. You had needed a push, something to finally pick up the courage and get away from this bleak existence. But you’d never considered paying a price this high.

The fire hit you out of nowhere. Hot and scourging, it singed your skin, blinding you and throwing you to the ground. You covered your face with a shriek, the burning and unbearable sensation having you thrash on the dirty ground in pain.

Your lungs filled with hot hair, the crackling and windy sounds drowning out even your own screaming. But then you suddenly heard his voice.

“Harrington! Stop! Stop it! Steve, please, stop!”

Were you hallucinating? Perhaps you were dying. Perhaps you were already dead. Perhaps Henry had killed you and your mind attempted, frantically, to make the traumatic experience more endurable.

Eventually, the fire ceased in a way it almost appeared like your attacker was being shoved away, with only the sizzling of your burned skin remaining. Angry red marks and blisters formed wherever the flames had tasted you and licked across you, including your cheeks and palms.

Trembling, you curled up on the ground, still too blinded to make out the person who knelt down beside you and cradled you in their arms. Those hands, however, adorned with cool silver rings… Eddie.

“Shit, shit, shit… Kas, are you okay? Look at me. Hey… hey! Are you okay? Open your eyes, Kas, please open your eyes!” His panicked voice made you want to calm him down, providing you with just enough energy to do as he asked.

“Oh, thank god… are you okay? I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Y-you’re back,” you choked out, taken hostage by a coughing fit only a fraction of a second later.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m back.” You felt his palm against the side of your cheek that was not burned, calloused fingers stroking over your cheekbone.

“W-what can I do? Are you gonna be okay?”

“…n-need… -ood…” Talking was exhausting. Keeping your eyes open was exhausting. Fighting against the pain was so tiring it would have been so easy to give in to cool darkness and slip into blissful unconsciousness.

“What? What do you need? Speak up, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You didn’t care you probably had an audience. You could sense them. More humans besides your attacker, at least two.

“Bl-…ood… I need blood.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Could you… I mean, could you drink from me? Would… would that work?”

You nodded—barely visible to the naked eye, your chin moved up and down once. Eddie caught it nonetheless. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he leaned down to you until your warm and shaking lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck, his long hair acting like a curtain and shielding you from the eyes of his friends.

This time, as soon as your instincts took over, you let them. Your fangs appeared within a second, your eyes turning blood-red. Your mouth watered in joyful anticipation when you opened it, sinking your pair of sharp teeth straight into his neck, breaking the skin, and… fuck, he tasted divine. So good and sweet and rich and…

Eddie flinched when you bit him but, albeit carefully, held you even tighter, mutely urging you on.

“Shit, what the fuck is happening here? Eddie? Eddie!”

“No, Steve, stop! It’s fine.” The metalhead did not elaborate, not for now and not until you had enough of your strength back to dig your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the cool leather of his jacket under your fingertips.

You promised to yourself that you would take five more sips—one, two, three, four… five… Reluctantly, you pulled away and licked your lips. You’d left a bite mark on him—one he quickly covered with his hair.

“A-are you good? Do you need more?” You shook your head in response, feeling your fangs retreat and your eyes, hopefully, returning to their usual colour.

The one with the fire—Steve Harrington—glared at you suspiciously, holding a lighter in one, and a can of hairspray in the other hand. The other two were young women—strong, intimidating almost. One more so than the other.

“Everyone… this is Kas.”

“Kas?” one of the girls repeated. “She’s the one who saved your life?”

Eddie nodded. “This is Robin,” he said, nodding towards the girl who’d spoken up. “And this is Nancy, and this… is Steve.”

“Sorry about that. I thought you were…”

“It’s fine… Eddie told me you guys are generally suspicious of everything down here.”

“Can’t blame us. Last time we were everything tried to kill us.”

You blinked at him before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Why did you come back?”

“That’s a long story but…”

“One we don’t have time for right now,” Nancy interrupted. You felt the urge to snap at her and you probably would have if you didn’t still feel weak. Your wounds were regenerating but it would take your body some time to fully recover from the attack.

Fire… the one lethal thing that could kill you instantly. If Eddie hadn’t stopped him…

“Henry closed the gate you escaped through. He’s gonna make his move. Soon. I tried to come and warn you, find another one.”

“We need to get you out of here then, sweetheart.” There it was again—that adorable nickname that you liked even better than Kas. You nodded once more, too weak for your mind to toss around all those thoughts you’d surely have if you hadn’t just escaped death by a smidge.

“I’ll uh… I’ll take her back.”

“Back? You want to bring her to Hawkins? What if she—“

“She won’t, Steve,” Eddie snapped at him. But when he turned to you again, scooping you up like a bride, his voice instantly became softer again. “Can you walk?”

“… don’t know…”

“It’s okay… I’ll carry you.”

His kind offer was the last thing you heard before you finally succumbed to the welcoming darkness.

“Kas? Like the vampire Kas? She’s Kas? Dude, I thought you were talking about some eerie humanoid bat person, not… not a girl!”

“Yeah no. No, that’s who I meant. I know how fucked up this is, man…” Eddie’s voice became muffled for a moment, almost as if he was hiding his face in his hands.

“So… she’s not… is she linked to Vecna? Because if she is and we kill him, wouldn’t that mean that she dies too?”

“No,” you croaked out before Eddie could respond to the other person. Two heads whipped in your direction instantly, one of which you did not recognise. You shifted uncomfortably. You were lying softly, covered with a blanket that smelled like Eddie and cigarette smoke. Someone had removed your leather coat too.

“W-where am I?”

“You’re in my bed… again.” Eddie’s cheeky grin warmed you from the inside out, even more so because he blushed. “Welcome to Hawkins, sweetheart. You’re in the real world. The Up… if you will.”

“You said… you said you wouldn’t die if we kill Vecna?” the boy with the curly hair and a hat that read Thinking Cap asked.

“That’s Dustin,” Eddie explained. “He’s a friend.”

You nodded. “No. I’ve been in the Upside Down for much longer than Henry. He’s… made this world his master but not me. I just happened to be in it when he arrived.”

“You were… born there?”

“Yes.”

“So there are others? Like you?”

You shot Eddie a hesitant glance. You hadn’t told him about that—you hadn’t wanted to freak him out even more. “There are. But not in the upside-down version of Hawkins. I was the only one there.”

“So… so you don’t have to go back eventually to not… drop dead if the gates close?” Dustin probed.

“No.” At least, that’s what you hoped. You had no solid proof that you wouldn’t turn to dust once the first ever sunbeams you had ever seen with your own eyes hit your skin either. You already had a feeling you would have to remain in the shadows as best as you could but unlike Eddie in the Upside Down… you were pretty certain you could survive in this dimension. You were not human, after all. It was in your very nature to adapt. The question was… would the humans tolerate you after all the evil that Henry had brought upon Hawkins through the gates?

“The others,” you started then, “Nancy, Robin, and Steve… are they still down there?”

“Yeah. They should be back anytime now. We uh, found another gate—by chance, really. They went back to the Creel house. Vecna’s house, trying to find… something. Anything that could help us stop him. We don’t have a lot of options left at the moment.”

You nodded once more. “What happened here in the meantime? Were you able to clear your name?”

“Not… really. Yet. I’m still in hiding, technically but uh… Hopper’s working on it.”

“Hopper?”

“He’s the Sheriff of Hawkins. Or he used to be,” Dustin intervened.

A third nod. Quite frankly, you were overwhelmed with being in a different dimension altogether—you finally understood how Eddie must have felt, especially after almost dying. You almost laughed out loud. The exact same thing had happened to you now. The irony was truly hilarious.

The noise that came from outside the trailer was audible to you first. With your enhanced hearing, you instantly made out the voices of Steve, Nancy and Robin. Moments later, the front door opened. Dustin sped out of the room, closing the door to Eddie’s room in the process.

“How are you feeling now?” Eddie asked.

“Better but… still weak.”

“Do you need more blood?”

Guilt washed over your entire body as you bit your lower lip. You were hesitant to nod for a fourth time. Eddie caught the hint nonetheless. But just when you were about to ask him to bring you an animal or a blood bag from the hospitals in this dimension, he spoke up again.

“Drink from me again.”

“Eddie…”

“Just do it, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. You need your strength back.”

Finally, the metalhead sat down on the bed with you. Your heart sped up when he pulled you onto his lap and your legs hugged his hips, his calloused fingers exploring your back.

Biting back a moan, you brushed his lovely hair out of the way—and as soon as his scent hit you, it was game over, and sunk your fangs into him and drank.

Eddie’s grip around you tightened, almost as if he was unwilling to let go of you anytime soon. Almost as if… almost as if he was enjoying it. But that was impossible, right? You were hurting him. You were sucking the very essence that kept him alive out of his body…

In your hungry haze, you noticed the door opening again only a few seconds too late. Dustin walked back in, followed by Robin, Nancy and Steve. You looked up with your teeth still lodged deep inside Eddie’s neck, noticing their horrified expressions.

I must look like a monster to them. Red eyes, dark purple veins under them, sharp fangs, and a murderous, famished expression…

You forced yourself to pull away, bloody fangs and lips surely glistening in the artificial light in Eddie’s room. You covered your mouth quickly and licked yourself clean, turning away so you wouldn’t have to face them again for a brief moment.

You could tell that Eddie was about to ask if you’d had enough or if you needed more when he too realised that you had an audience.

“Did you find anything?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing.” Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you. You leaned back again, covering yourself with Eddie’s blanket so you’d have something to do with your hands, making it clear you didn’t want any attention, especially after what they’d just witnessed.

Steve nodded towards you nonetheless. “Are you sure we can trust her, Munson? I don’t care if she’s like one of your D&D characters.”

“Wait… what? You named me after a D&D character?”

Eddie blushed. “Uh… yeah… a vampire who works for Vecna but eventually betrays and kills him.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds about right.”

“So you’re on our side.”

“Of course I’m on your side. Steve, is it, right?”

“You said you wanted to come to warn me. Us. Vecna’s gonna make his play soon?”

“I… yes. The bats will be first. Henry’s planning on opening more gates to let them all through. To let them loose in Hawkins.”

“But I thought he doesn’t control them. You do?”

“That’s… I… I wanted to tell you but…”

“You told them to attack Hawkins,” he concluded.

“No! I mean, I… I told them to invade the town once he opens the gates.”

“What! Are you crazy?” Steve bellowed. You flinched, the loud noise hurting your ears a little.

“That’s what your deal was about? You didn’t tell me that. You said the bats were harmless if they’re not provoked.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry… I couldn’t… that’s why I was about to come here. I wanted to give you a headstart, all of you. I wanted to make things right because…” Because I’m falling in love with you. You stopped yourself before you could end the sentence and embarrass yourself even further.

“So when they make it through… can you stop them?” Robin intervened. In the meantime, Nancy and Dustin only glared at you all but speechless.

“I can try.”

Eddie reached for your hand. “You said they listen to you.”

“They do but… they are simple-minded creatures. Once they’re up there, there will be more prey for them than they’ve ever known to exist. They might not aim to kill but they will attack when they get hungry. Not out of malice—simply because it’s in their nature. They want to survive. And the more food they have available to them, the more strength they can build.”

“Well that’s just great,” Steve remarked with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Okay, you know what… let’s call it a night. Nothing good will still come out of us arguing with her. Let’s meet again tomorrow and plan our next steps then,” Nancy said.

“Yeah… it’s a little awkward all of you standing around in my room like that.” You chuckled to yourself when Eddie grinned at them. Seeing him smile was not only a relief, it was a revelation.

“Okay, I don’t mean to freak anyone out but do we still have until tomorrow?” Robin argued.

“I can sense the bats. I’ll know. We’re safe, for now.”

“Good to know. You’re right. Not you, Munson, Nancy. We’ll catch up tomorrow. Are you sure you’re gonna be fine here… all alone… with… with Kas?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll behave,” you added, daring a little smirk.

Steve and Robin blinked at you as if you’d just admitted to killing a puppy.

“Okay… good night, Eddie. We’ll call tomorrow.” Dustin was the only one who waved before they all staggered out of the room one by one and Eddie shifted on the bed so he could lie down next to you. You still waited until the door fell shut to scoot closer and place your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Even after only such a short time… you had missed the sound of it.

“I’m… I’m really happy to see you.”

Eddie smirked. “I’m really happy to see you too. You kept my ring,” he remarked, nodding at your hand which was tracing the print on the band shirt he was wearing.

“I found it in my pocket after you’d left.”

“Nah, yeah I thought I’d leave you a little something so you wouldn’t forget me.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible to forget someone like you, Eddie. At first… at first, I thought I’d never see you again. That’s stupid, right? We met only a couple of weeks ago.” Just say it. I like you. Three little words, so easy. Fuck… you were no silly teenager with a fear of rejection. You were a goddamn vampire, for Heaven’s sake! You could deal with a human boy not reciprocating your feelings. Feelings that seemed to consume every fibre of your being and…

Your heart stopped when his lips landed on yours. Suddenly. Out of nowhere. The kiss was almost too brief, with no tongues attempting a battle for dominance.

When he pulled away, he instantly panicked. “Sorry… was that too much? Or too soon? I… fuck, I thought I lost you there when Steve didn’t put that fucking hairspray away.”

“I guess we’re even now then. I want you… no, I need you to kiss me again.” That made him grin, mischievously so. “I wanted to stay with you. But I also wanted to go back home, you know?”

“Eddie… staying would have killed you.”

“I wanted to ask you to come with me.” Slash. Like a dagger twisting in your heart.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because… I don’t know, isn’t it like… a big thing to ask someone to leave their dimension to live in another?” His breath was warm against your lips. You let your fingertips trail over the two bite marks you had given him.

“I had been hoping to get out. Ever since that first gate opened a few years ago. I just… didn’t have the guts to do it yet. Because of Henry… Vecna… what do you think will happen when they find out what I am, Eddie? Your friends clearly don’t trust me, in fact, I’m absolutely sure they hate me.”

“They don’t hate you. They’re… suspicious? I mean, so was I… you can be pretty mean and scary.”

You gave him a weak smile. “What about the other humans? They’ll hunt me down and shoot me dead, or lock me up in a lab to experiment on once they realise where I came from.”

“I won’t let that happen to you.”

“Promise?” you breathed out.

“Promise…” And with that, his lips were back on yours, more eager this time to drink you in like you were his last meal. Eddie’s left hand came around the back of your neck, pulling you even closer to him all the while you hooked one of your legs over his lower body, your right hand grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

His mouth tasted almost as divine as his blood. You could make out cigarettes, a faint hint of weed and… some sort of honeyed cornflakes and pizza. Fuck, you wanted to devour him whole.

Getting a little braver, you crawled on top of him so you could straddle him, your hands exploring his clothed chest all the while your tongue teased his soft lips, asking for entrance. Eddie’s mouth opened wider and you sought out his tongue, starting a passionate fight.

By the time he pulled away out of breath, his hands still stroking your back, you were almost too far gone to remember the threat that was lurking in the Upside Down.

“You still hungry?” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m starting to think you like me drinking from you.”

“Yeah, well, uh… it’s pretty hot… to be honest. Very metal. I… kinda enjoy it.”

Hearing those words from his mouth… fuck, you wanted to pounce on him, feed on him and fuck him all at the same time. Tilting your head with your eyes turning red, you trailed your fingertips over the side of his face, making him shiver. His brown orbs widened as soon as he noticed the colour change in yours.

“I need you to rest. I can’t take so much at once. Let your body recover first. I… could be persuaded to have another sip tomorrow.”

“But are you gonna be alright?”

You nodded. “The wounds have healed well. Perks of not being human. I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” There it was again. Sweetheart. You suppressed a sigh.

“I’m sure. Let’s… let’s get some sleep.”

Eddie stole another kiss from you before he obeyed, draping the blanket over the both of you. You fell asleep in his arms, listening to his breath slowly evening out as he too wandered off to dreamland.

Steve kept his promise. The next morning, it had barely struck eight am before Eddie’s phone rang, ripping you both from your slumber. The metalhead almost fell out of bed when he went to answer it, quickly barking a few words into the little construction before leaning his forehead against the wall, still half-asleep.

By the time he finally brought himself to crawl back into bed, you too managed to open your eyes, wrapping your arms around him to stay warm. You never thought you’d enjoy body heat so much. You were used to the cold, used to sleeping alone—and even though you knew that there was only so much heat that you could take, cuddling with Eddie made your heart pound and put your mind at ease. You felt safe, protected…

“Hey…”

“Hey…”

“You hungry?” You giggled like a little girl, burying your face in his neck. His excitement was tangible—in fact, you were certain you would be able to taste it if you bit him right now.

“How about you have some breakfast first? I don’t want you to faint on me.”

“Yeah, coffee and a cigarette actually do sound like a great idea.”

“A cigarette? For breakfast? I mean real food, Eddie. No wonder humans have such short lives.”

He grinned and you followed him into the kitchen. The fridge didn’t have much to offer. There was some open yoghurt in there that, according to the smell, had expired already, a half-empty egg carton, some milk, and some leftover pizza on a plate with some cling foil on top of it. Unceremoniously, Eddie took it out and chucked it in the microwave. You scrunched up your nose. In the meantime, he made sure to make himself some coffee and finally, lit himself a cigarette.

“I’m pretty sure the food I got you in the Upside Down tasted better than what you’re consuming right now.”

The metalhead shrugged. “Wayne’s gonna bring some groceries home when he gets back from his shift. Since I still can’t just… you know… stroll into a supermarket and stuff.”

“How… how did he react when he learned you’re still alive?”

“He was… relieved. Hugged me. Even cried. The old man treats me better than my own father. He’s more of a dad to me than he’ll ever be.”

“I’m glad you were in good hands then when you left.” Me. The last word you almost choked on. The microwave started beeping just when he finished his cigarette and extinguished its butt in the ashtray on the kitchen table.

Growing a little more confident about your surroundings now, you hoisted yourself up on the counter all the while Eddie dug into his left-over pizza.

By the time he only had one piece left on his plate, there was a barely visible film of fat around his lips which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. You smirked. So he always ate like he was starving.

Raising an eyebrow, you slid off the counter, walked over to him, and sat down on the table next to his plate. His eyes widened and his smirk… downright mischievous, even more so when you reached for his wrist and held it with both your hands. You bared your fangs and sank them into his flesh.

You certainly did not imagine the moan that escaped his lips when you broke the skin, his own food and coffee quickly forgotten. When you released him, the look on his gorgeous face was so aroused, you could have pounced on him. Maybe you could. Maybe you should.

Licking the last droplets of his blood from your lips, you pushed yourself forward so you came to sit on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth was on his before he realised what was happening, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his long hair that was still completely dishevelled from sleeping.

And once again, you became so caught up in each other that you did not hear the knock soon enough—nor the door opening and Eddie’s friends spreading inside the kitchen and living room area as if they’d seen a ghost. The only one who was missing was the kid with the hat. Dustin. You liked him.

Eddie held you tightly when you attempted to move off of him. When none of them dared say the first word, you took the initiative, braver than yesterday now that you were feeling better again too.

“You all look surprised Eddie is still alive after spending the night with me.”

“Yeah… you can’t… really… blame us,” Steve choked out. Robin nodded with an apologetic expression on her face. Nancy was the only one whose poker face was so impenetrable you were starting to wonder whether she had slept at all last night.

“This is Jonathan,” she finally said, introducing you to the stranger they had brought with them. You tilted your head. Jonathan looked like social awkwardness personified. He nodded at you with half a smile.

They’re still scared of me, you thought, biting your lower lip.

Eddie cleared his throat so they would stop staring at you. “So? Any news?”

“Uh, yeah. Joyce is on her way with El and Will.”

“What about Hopper?”

“Says he’s currently busy with filing that police report on Jason Carver to prove you didn’t kill him.”

“Right.”

“In the meantime, we need to get back to the War Zone. We need more weapons. Like, now. Are you coming with us, Munson?”

“I want to stay with Eddie,” you instantly blurted out.

The metalhead reached for your hand and squeezed it.

“No offence… but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to roam freely around Hawkins… yet,” Steve said. He almost sounded a little like he was sorry. Perhaps he didn’t loathe you after all—even if he’d almost killed you last night.

“None taken. I don’t exactly feel ready to either. But I’m not staying here alone.”

“I’ll stay,” Eddie reassured you. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Um, Kas… we need you to tell us how we can get rid of your bats. I mean… I’m assuming you don’t want us to kill them,” Steve offered.

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s what we thought, so… is there a way to weaken them?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating whether you could trust them. If the bats got hurt, that would be on you—your fault.

“They don’t like warmth. They’ll steer away from it, just like me. If you found a way to keep Hawkins hot enough, they would retreat and hide in the woods. That’s the best advice I can offer you. I don’t want you to harm them.”

“Are they like… your children?” Jonathan asked carefully.

“No, they’re… we’re just very alike.” You didn’t elaborate and you were sure you didn’t have to, not really.

“So that’s nothing new then. Our next step should be to get in touch with Hopper, there’s gotta be a way to heat the city up so the bats will stay clear from everyone.” Nancy sounded determined, earning her an obedient nod from Jonathan.

“Just don’t… don’t make any loud noises, not like you did in the Upside Down. You’d want to get rid of what’s causing you pain too,” you added when they both turned to leave. They acknowledged it with a quick wave, leaving only Steve and Robin behind.

“That means Robin and I will head to the War Zone until El and Will get here. Take this.” Steve handed Eddie what looked like a portable phone. You realised quickly it must have been a walkie-talkie. And then, with a brief goodbye, they too were out of the door again.

For a few heartbeats, it remained silent. It was a comfortable and yet tense silence both at the same time. Eventually, you leaned your forehead against Eddie’s. You noticed only now that his wrist was still bleeding a little and he’d grabbed an old and probably used napkin on the table to cover it up.

“Who are they? El and Will?”

“El has superpowers, literally. Like… like Vecna.”

You gasped. “She must be the girl he’s coming after Hawkins for then.”

Eddie nodded, his hands caressing your waist. “And Will is the boy who went missing a few years back. Got possessed by the Mind Flayer and I think he can still… feel Vecna? I don’t know, it’s all so fucked up.”

“I’ve heard of him. I never saw him but there was this red-haired girl…” Guilt washed over you as you bit your lower lip. That girl had been one of those victims you had fed on—she’d been too far gone to stay alive for much longer and still…

“A… a red-haired girl? Was she… was she wearing a cheerleading uniform… by any chance?”

“I… no, she wore glasses and high-waisted trousers.”

“Oh…”

“Who is… was the other girl?”

“Chrissy. She… uh… she died right here in our… in our living room.” Eddie’s brown eyes trailed over to where Vecna must have taken her life, creating a gate and spreading fear and horror. Your lips parted the more distant Eddie became and you quickly realised why.

“You have survivor’s guilt…”

“What?”

“That girl… an innocent girl died and there was nothing you could have done to save her. Eddie, it’s not your fault. This is Vecna.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze away from the invisible spot in the living room. “I just wish I didn’t run away, you know.”

“Eddie… I saw you in the Upside Down. You’re brave. And… you’ve got a vampire sitting on your lap right now.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess… that’s true.”

“When does your uncle get home again?”

“Should be another hour or so.”

“Good. Then how about we continue where we left off?”

Eddie swallowed. As if you’d flipped a switch on him, his brown eyes glistened with unfulfilled desire yet again. “Are you sure?”

You let your eyes turn red. Eddie grinned when you bared your fangs at him and winked. “I’m sure. Are you?”

He nodded and you watched him frown when you gently pushed the wrist he offered you away to focus on his neck instead. His scent was intoxicating when your nose brushed against his sensitive skin.

Perhaps it would take a while longer for Eddie’s friends to accept you the way he had. Perhaps you too, much like Eddie, would have to live in hiding for a few months. But once Vecna was gone… once your bats were back in the Upside Down safely and all threats to his life, to all of their lives, were eliminated… then maybe you’d both get your happy end. You both deserved it.

A/N: I am more than inclined to write more vampire!Reader x Eddie. Perhaps one where RC turns Eddie after all? Or a Part 2 to this one? Hot vampire sex? Ohhh, the possibilities are endless! 😈

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #the demobat queen #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie the freak muson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #netflix #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson vampire #kas eddie #sserpente

[milks-thoughts]

Hi, just wanted to say I love your writing and I was wondering if I could request a rise Donnie x reader like the mikey one called Nothing left to lose I really liked that one. I hope you have a good day/night and remeber to drink water.

BET okay let’s go

summary: the softshell from amazing world of gumball possesses Donnie

TW: descriptions of injury, in-depth injuries, choking, dismemberment, death, GORE.

He Didn't Want To Make It Messy

🜺 It was a normal tussle with Meat Sweats

🜺 Well...as normal as those fights usually are

🜺 Meat Sweats giant meat pounder packs a nasty punch

🜺 It usually just leaves the turtles with a nasty bruise and a sore spot

🜺 But it's much more dangerous for humans, after all, they're much more fragile in Donnies opinion, they have no shell, no plastron, so superhuman mystic healing properties

🜺 Meat Sweats blindly swung around his meat pounder as Mikey blinded him, they were herding him into an alleyway where they could, theoretically, kick his ass. You were teasing Rupert, he reached forward and knocked you with his meat pounder, spikes first. You were launched back into a brick building, a wet squelch heard during impact. Donnie immediately rushed to you, multiple broken ribs, a broken arm, a nasty concussion, and a your spine was definitely bruised. Not to mention if there was any internal damage to your organs. He stared at you for a second before looking at Meat Sweats. He was herded into the alleyway, Leo immediately rushed to you and as the team medic started looking over your wounds. Raph grabbed Mikey who had been choked out by Meat Sweats and rushed to Leo, demanding he opened a portal. Donnie was shaking with anger, grabbing his tech bō he launched foreword and started beating Meat Sweats head in, slamming it into the ground with his tech bō, he turned and started using the sharp side where he stabbed Meat Sweats in the head. Leo and Raph would both like to forget the squelching noises that echoed in the alleyway, how their brother walked over to them, his tech bō and himself painted red. they’d also like to forget the strings of pink on the wall that mixed with the blood, bone scattered the floor. How Donnie never blinked, how he even sent his tech to clean up the evidence they were ever there. A part of their brother got revealed to Leo and Raph that day..and honestly? They hope to never see it again. The guttural hiss that came from Donnie as he killed Meat Sweats terrorize their dreams.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #angst #save rottmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #i really liked this one #:>

[akunya]

"sour mood."

pairings: floyd leech x m!reader

summary: you should know better by now - avoiding floyd always ends in punishment!

tw: CHOKING, asphyxiation, breathplay, exhibitionism. noncon/dubcon (not sure tbh), slight nsfw, groping. degradation, humiliation, etc. yandere!floyd?

notes: i wanted to write for twst for a long time, so here we are! of course i will still be writing for njsj and other things. please be kind. your hands feebly tried to grab at floyds wrists, choking as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. the rough bark of the tree felt as if it was stabbing your back, adding onto the discomfort of the mans hands wrapped around your neck like a collar. his knee forcefully spread your legs open.

when floyd had threatened to squeeze you, this was not what you expected.

“floyd, please, let go!” your voice wavered, panic settling when he would press a bit harder. it was all a game to him, the sadistic smile on his face reminding you just how different you two really were. he didn’t seem to care that you were struggling to breathe, giggling as he made a routine of squeezing tightly and letting you catch your breath.

“eh, but why, shrimpy? this is fun!” his laugh sent shivers down your spine. while jade had longer nails than floyd, the blunt ends of his fingertips digging into your throat hurt even more. he choked you out again, watching as you sniffled on the ground, having no choice. he seemed to stop just as you were about to become unconscious, your body becoming limp from the abuse and lack of oxygen. “look, now shrimpy’s neck is turning purple!” the eel seemed to find joy in your panic, your own hands grazing on your abused neck when he let go. you were terrified to look into a mirror later.

“i like playing with you, shrimpy. so why did you avoid me? it made me reaaaally sad, yknow!” he huffed, body towering over yours as he leaned in to speak. you took the chance to calm yourself down a bit, as much as you could anyways, sniffling. it didn’t matter if he kept his voice down or not. if a student even dared to look in your direction right now, you weren’t certain they’d make it out alive. you gulped, stuttering as floyd stared into your eyes for some sort of answer. voice dropping low, his pupils fixated on your own, glaring as he warned you. his hands hovered near your throat again.“tell meeee, before i make you hurt again.”

you weren’t stupid. you valued your life, so you quickly tried to stutter out a reply. that was, until floyds knee had dug into your crotch, cutting off your explanation into a pitiful whine.

the eels body shook with laughter, still towering over you as you covered your mouth. his knee didn’t move either, rubbing painfully against your cock as you tried to squirm away. if you weren't feeling shameful before, you were definitely feeling it now, wishing that you could become invisible. it was too embarrassing. “y/n, did you seriously get hard from me squeezing you? didn’t you want me to stop? shrimpy is a liar!” you shook your head, trying to deny his allegations as he pushed his knee further, groaning again from the feeling.

your head was dizzy enough from floyds punishment squeeze — his teasing aimed at your crotch only made your head spin even more. you weren't getting off to this.. right? maybe floyd is just messing with your head. your voice meekly protested, making him grin widely. "floyd, cut it out.." your voice was rough. “stop? i can’t stop now, shrimpy! what if i let you leave? then everyone will see how hard you are and laugh at you!” he was, in a twisted sense, sort of correct. whether you stayed or not, leaving would result in desperately failing at trying to hide the tent in your pants. if you stayed, however..

“shrimpy hasn’t been coming to see me lately, i should just leave you like this. it makes me really mad when i can’t bully you, yknow.” the mans voice dipped lowly, his smile dropping as he stared into your eyes. his gaze was intense. he didn’t have to explain further, you were reminded that he was upset and you wouldn’t make the same mistake of avoiding him again. the unspoken promise of your punishment being worse if you tried to think about leaving him was in the air, zipping your mouth shut. floyd had a habit of not being able to show his emotions properly, except for when he was angry. if his mood was sour, the entire campus knew.

and right now, his mood was definitely sour, no matter how much he would laugh and smile at your misery.

the only choice you had at this point was to give in. your throat felt dry, silent for a moment before finally speaking up. "im sorry, floyd. its my fault. i wont do it again, okay? please, let's at least go back to your room?" you tried to sound as gentle and calm as you could, masking your annoyance with the eel as he stared into your eyes. the bright gold in his pupils was unsettling to the say the least, however, you couldn't tear your gaze away from them. his face was neutral for a minute or two before he smiled again, his sharp teeth peeking out.

"no." floyd's hands went back to squeezing your throat. panic seeped into your bones, making your stomach drop. you coughed, voice struggling to come out as he laughed at you. "i don't believe you're sorry, shrimpy! you cant just ignore me for this long and pretend you feel bad when i caught you. im not dumb." his blunt nails dug into your precious skin, leaving crescent marks on top of the bruises starting to form. he had loosened his grip to let you breathe, heaving and gasping for air.

"besides, i don't think you want me to stop, y/n. you're really hard over this! haha, it's so gross!" the eel didn't bother to keep his voice down, laughing as you tried to close your legs to no avail. floyd was naturally bigger and stronger than you. avoiding him so much lately made you forget how easily he overpowered you in nearly every way, making you tremble in fear. unexpectedly, the man coo'ed at you, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look up towards him.

"dont worry shrimpy! it wont hurt too much, okay? just stay still and take it aaaaall in."

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x m!reader #floyd leech x male reader #floyd leech x male!reader #male reader #mlm blog #male reader blog #my fics.. #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x male!reader #twisted wonderland x m!reader #octavinelle x reader #octavinelle x male!reader #octavinelle x m!reader #octavinelle #yandere!twst #yandere!floyd leech

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Q/U/X is for -- Ulysses

Writing for Ulysses always seems to transport me to another world, I swear, he just-- His way of speaking, and the general air about the man is all just... ethereal, in a way? I don't know, but he makes me feel like more of a poet than I've ever been, lol.

And the dialogue prompt he got had me on the floor, it's just SO accurate and perfect for him and Six. Ugh.

Anywho, I hope you guys like it!

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

--

Pair: Ulysses x g/n! Six

Dialogue: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Word: Unite

Rating: SFW

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

“Um, well, I suppose I should be leaving, then. Ulysses.” Six stepped away from the pair’s close proximity slowly, backing up while still facing him. 

To hold our eye contact, or to make sure I don't stab them in the back?

“You’re not leaving.” 

Though the words commanded Six's attention, the way he voiced it was more of a question than an order. 

Ulysses couldn’t tell if that put them at ease or not.

“Well, I… Why you’d want to be around me at all, after everything I’ve learned about myself... I don’t blame you for wanting me dead, is all. Figure I should leave before you act on it though, right?” 

Six’s voice was nervous, but there was a sadness that Ulysses detected there as well. A shame, even. 

They should feel ashamed for what they’ve done… But then, is the shame enough of a consequence on its own? Does it absolve them of their wrongdoings, if they are pained by it this way, even without memory of the action itself? 

“What about my behavior has told you that I plan on acting on what I spoke about in our first meeting?” 

Ulysses was closer to them now, looking down the point of his mask to their large eyes, wide with… was it fear? 

Still?

“I don’t know, I just… I understand why you were so furious, why you sought me out, I couldn’t imagine… If I had a home, and someone took it from me, well, I’d like to think I would’ve done the same as you did. Only, maybe less honorably.” 

A soft snort escaped the mask, and Six could see some semblance of sympathy shining within the dark depths of Ulysses’ intense eyes. 

“That, in itself, is honorable to say.” They couldn’t pull their gaze from his, and as his compliment met their ears, a smooth tingle of relief wove up their spine. Ulysses could see it, from his perspective, the way they sought his forgiveness. 

That too, was honorable. 

He couldn’t help but admire the courier then. Then… and now. Now, as he shared his tent with them. A temporary home, but still some fragment of the place of belonging that they both craved so wholly. 

And how could he blame them? With their memories, as shoddy and incomplete as the crude camps he’d often made himself to stifle that wound in his chest that the Divide was meant to fill.  

They didn’t even know who they were, what they’d done, or why. It was a struggle he himself could not quite imagine. 

“I can’t believe I’m here…” 

Ulysses heard them say, perhaps to themself, as they turned and dropped their pack back to its place near to his sleeping mat. 

“I mean, I thought you hated me… That you would never forgive me, never stop… trying to kill me.” 

“Hate and love are but cousins;” Ulysses told them, stepping closer as they rounded to face him again, “Passion drawn from deep within and showcasing itself in the most intense forms available to us. The difference is but one instant.” 

And that instant is now. 

Ulysses’ impassioned gaze told them, near amber in color, with the emotion blazing within them. The simple look itself sent an overwhelming shiver down the courier’s spine. 

“But, hold on.” They said, before his stare had a chance to hold them prisoner for eternity, “Everything I’ve done, I mean… Your second chance, your home, a place away from the Legion, a new start, it was all yours, until me. How... how could you look past that?" 

Ulysses could easily see the struggle within them from the outside, just as much as he heard it in their words. 

Is it so hard for them to detect my own inner thoughts? 

After the nights they’d shared, they’d had to share during the massive dust storm that could’ve claimed both their lives, had they not had each other; how could they not see the way his view of them has changed? 

Six had seen him all those nights. His perseverance, his will, yes, that they knew of before the pair had properly even met. No, but those nights, they’d seen a glimpse of his vulnerability. The man behind the mask, the one who longs for a place to call his own, a place to belong, after a lifetime of feeling wrong. 

Wrong for turning his back on the Twisted Hairs with the illusion of not having a choice, wrong for being a part of the Legion, the very same faction that murdered and enslaved his people, that eradicated them from the map and from memory. Then, maybe wrongly too, he’d turned his back on the Legion as well. 

Had he no honor? Had he not a decisive mind? No allegiance? No loyalty? 

Who was Ulysses, if not a Twisted Hair, if not a Frumentarius, if not a courier? 

So wholeheartedly he had always formed his identity around that which he was forced to follow, to be a part of, even against his own wishes. 

His wishes, that now he had the freedom to consider. 

And Ulysses did. 

Even now, he was considering Six. The courier who’d seen him, a blank slate, with not even themself for Ulysses to obsess over. No, now all was out in the open. No holotapes, no hiding, no mystery, and yet, Six accepted him, forgave him, allied themself with him... 

It was true. Ulysses had made up his mind now, and he’d done it on his own, wholly. 

“My new start?” He said, his voice rumbling so softly from within his mask, that Six had to lean in close to catch his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I merely had to reflect to see it. To look back on my past, and on yours. The way that you’ve shaped me, without even knowing it.”

Six blinked at him, and their mouth fell slightly agape in their shock. 

 “Our stories are comparable, Six. Both alone, with a rich past, but no idea who we truly are. Not when your memory was taken from you, and my individuality. Together though, I see a change in both of us. I see what I thought was stolen forever from me, by you.”

Ulysses took another step forward, his chest just barely brushing Six’s as he took a deep breath in, his eyes locked to theirs, dark hair curtaining an intense, but pleading expression. 

And there it was again, that vulnerability that the ex-soldier, ex-spy, had never been able to show another living soul, and it was showing plain in his expression, sounding so clearly in his voice, that it was effortless. 

Six made it effortless for him to be genuine with them. 

It was something he could find himself getting used to, he thought. 

“With you,” He continued, raising one hand to brush the roughened tips of his fingers to Six’s chin. Affectionate, but subtle. “I see a future for us both.”

#2k event #2k celebration #secret event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas dlcs #fallout nv #new vegas #fnv #courier six #ulysses fnv #ulysses #ulysses x six

[blindmagdalena]

Hiya!! I wrote you some fluff, sorry! Tldr the protag (I just used “they”) meets homelander while he’s on patrol and saves his really shitty day with a hug. I’m obsessed with compound v babies that never developed marketable powers, so they’re a little tougher and stronger than most but otherwise nothing special. I think if I continued this they’d only meet again when he was depowered and totally friendless. Anyway, hope you like it! Lots of love, first timer 💕

-

Homelander’s jaw clenches through that big smile of his, uncaring if a slight malice coils in the centre of his eye. He looks straight into the camera, and feels a muscle under his lower lash twitch as the flash goes off. In broad fucking daylight.

It only stings for a second and he knows it, but the dull ache lately thudding in his ears is suddenly a full roar. He blinks hard and no one sees the flash of red in his corneas. The phone shoved in his face meanders away with the idiot attached to it unharmed, and he gives a bland goodbye. Barely time for a breath before someone else wants Homelander’s attention.

They’re next, tall enough to look him in the eye and waiting at the edge of polite distance for his invitation. He isn’t rushed at, which makes a change for patrol meets.

“Auto-flash is your friend,” they offer to the guy leaving, but he’s too absorbed in his selfie to hear. They shrug like they tried. “Asshole,” they grumble, now more to Homelander as they approach. “Want a hug?”

He doesn’t. But he has the presence of mind to unclench his fists at his sides. At least they asked, this many people in and requests usually become demands. The expectant shout of his name starts to grate.

His hesitation gives them pause, and their smile turns to momentary embarrassment at having overstepped. “If you’re not big on that, I totally—“

“You can’t take it back, now,” he tries not to sound like he wants to show them his teeth. “C’mon, bring it in.” And manages, it seems, when he holds his arms out.

They close the gap, folding their arms around his sides. Letting their hands rest on his shoulder blades, before one of them gently pats the centre of his back. Their chest to his chest, the sound of their heart briefly surrounding him before it quiets. Like they’ve been reassured of something they were afraid of.

Their sigh doesn’t stab at his eardrums, they hug him like this is something they’ve been meaning to do for a long time. And their embrace’s earnest, affectionate pressure makes his uninterested grip around their waist very suddenly tighten.

Homelander presses them against him without a thought, arms like steel bars digging into their back. He waits for a different sound. The hitched breath and scream of pain to really make this day hell. But their ribs don’t bend. Their spine doesn’t fold.

Their voice is a whisper, easy on sensitive ears. A little breathless, but fond, “You saved me once.”

No verbal thanks accompanies the statement, only their warm hand moving a slow circle at the centre of his back. Then, their grip eases. His arms fall back to his sides without needing to be scolded, as if suddenly awake to the encroaching crowd. To what he could have done.

Homelander stares at their still-smiling face. He didn’t fuck it up. They’re fine.

His control on his expression lapses only briefly, but he stares at them with glassy blue eyes. Brow slightly furrowed. He’s trying to recognize them, and he can’t.

Then that face is gone, back to a veneer-grin. They give a little wave, unbothered with being forgotten in a way he doesn’t understand.

They don’t make him lie. And then they’re gone, the whole exchange barely half a minute. His chest feels heavier, then lighter. Homelander draws himself up to his full height, ready for the next in line.

DEAREST.... i love this!!!!! aaahhh, the way he was caught off guard by the sincerity of the interaction, and the lack of expectation for performance or a front, the CONSENT of it all... please, you have such a way with words!

i loved him being so disarmed he just. squeezed. almost like a reversion to that moment as a child, snapping his caretakers spine, only to come back to reality and see that they were fine. that gave me chills! i'd love to see more from you, wow. thanks so much for writing this and sending it my way! 🖤

#homelander x reader #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #first time watcher anon #i'm also very interested in the 'failed' v babies #suuuuch a good concept

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 11: Timeloop

Content warning: death (temporary), decapitation (temporary), fae whumpee (how else could decapitation be ‘temporary?’)

“I know what you’re doing.”

Whumpee didn’t turn to look at them. They rarely did, unless forced. They simply say, cross legged and back straight, on the flimsy mattress Whumper had tossed into their cell. They had their back turned to Whumper, as if they were unbothered by the accusation.

For the briefest of moments, regret flashed in Whumper’s mind. It was supposed to be an easy job. They didn’t need to kill the creature, simply hold it until the hunters could return. All they had to do was keep the cell door closed. It should have been easy.

They should’ve known that nothing involving Fae was easy.

“It won’t work,” Whumper spoke with more confidence than they felt. “This game of yours isn’t going to win you any favors with me.

Whumpee didn’t turn to look at them.

—

Whumper didn’t know how long it’d been going on. Likely since the day they’d allowed Whumpee to be brought into their basement, but they weren’t sure. When you live a static, secluded life, the passage of time, or there lack of, is easy to miss.

But now they couldn’t ignore it. When they went into town, they were greeted with the exact same words from the exact same people. When they broke a plate, it was unblemished when they next awoke. Everything had become predictable, down to the very second the birds would begin chirping. No matter what they did, everything reset the following day. There never was a following day.

It had to be the thing in the basement. Playing games, throwing a tantrum because a human had managed to catch it. Whumper wasn’t going to stand for it.

Whumper woke up and checked their calendar. The ugly mark they’d torn through the 11th, ink stained and impossible to erase, was gone.

Whumper stormed into the basement.

“Enough!” Whumper slammed a hand against the bars, the sound reverberating. Whumpee didn’t respond.

“Don’t play innocent with me! Don’t pretend you’re uninvolved, when this reeks of magic. Look at me!”

Whumpee didn’t move, still as a statue. A shiver ran its way up Whumper’s spine.

“Stop it. I’ve already got you locked away, Fae,” Whumper hissed. “If you think I haven’t hurt you because I cannot, you’re wrong.”

They wouldn’t humiliate themselves by waiting for a response they knew would never come. Whumper left, their own words echoing in their mind.

Before going to bed, they scratched another mark into the calendar, digging it so deeply that it could never be removed. —

Whumper woke up and checked their calendar, and saw nothing but clean paper. They went into town, looking for anyone who could lift curses.

They didn’t find any help. The local mage was on a mission in the far south. The nearest mage was more than a day’s travel away.

They tore the calendar off the wall, leaving a tattered mess on the floor. — Whumper woke up. The calendar sat unblemished on their wall.

They grabbed their blade with shaking hands.

“I’ll give you one final chance,” they said, standing before Whumpee’s prison. “Lift this curse, end this game, or I will end you. You’ve become more work than you’re worth.”

Like always, like always, the creature didn’t respond. It seemed that whatever Whumper did, they could not earn the attention of this creature. It was as if Whumper were invisible.

It was as if Whumpee deemed them beneath their concern.

Whumper saw red.

They fumbled for the key on their waist, turning it in the lock and swinging the cell door open. Some part of them screamed in protest, horrified at the thought of getting closer to the bound fae making their heart pound. Anger, terror, forced them forward regardless. It was clear that the bars would not protect them.

Whumpee did not respond. They did not move. They sat, calm and stoic, as if Whumper did not stand before them with murder in their eyes.

Stabbing a fae, it seemed, was no different than stabbing any other creature. The knife tore through the flesh easily, sinking in with a nauseating sqeltching noise. The creature bled, warm against Whumper’s hand.

Whumpee didn’t scream, didn’t so much as flinch. It was as if the blade Whumper buried into their stomach was an inconvenience, as if Whumper were nothing more than a petulant child.

They brought the blade down again, tearing through flesh, cutting bone and muscle, carving a hole into the chest of the stoic creature. Whumpee never screamed, but Whumper did.

They didn’t stop until the body gave a last, shaky exhale, and fell limp on the mattress.

Panting with exertion, Whumper stumbled up the stairs.

It was only in the light of their home that they noticed the dark, viscous liquid staining their clothing. Whumpee’s blood. It wasn’t red.

Fae bled blue.

They spent the rest of the night scrubbing their skin raw. Their fingers were still stained navy blue when they stumbled into bed.

— Whumper woke up, their fingers unblemished. Whumpee was still in the cell, sitting.

They had to swallow the furious, desperate sob that threatened to tear from their throat. —

The same day again. Whumper didn’t bother going into the basement. For the first time in decades, they prayed.

— The same day. They’d stopped trying to keep count.

Whumper entered the cell once more, a weapon in their hands. They didn’t hesitate before entering this time.

Whumper stood before Whumpee. Slowly, as if expecting them to lash out at any moment, Whumper pushed Whumpee to lay flat on the mattress. They positioned themselves above the creature.

Crouched on top of them, Whumper found themselves staring into the creature's face. They were gorgeous; if they were human, Whumper might have fallen for them. But there was something too perfect about their face, so beautiful that it could not be human.

Whumper grabbed their blade and carefully began separating that inhumanly beautiful head from its body. The flesh gave way easily, welcoming the blade without resistance. They slowly sawed through muscle and bone, blood pooling around Whumpee’s head like spilled ink.

Whumpee did not fight. They did not cry out, they did not react. They only stared, eyes calm, expression relaxed, as blood poured from their lips in waves. Their eyes never quite met Whumper’s.

Whumper did not stop until the body beneath them stopped breathing. They did not stop until they held Whumpee’s head in their hands.

Whumper burned the body. They burned their house alongside it for good measure.

That night, Whumper slept beside the cooling ashes of their home, and prayed they’d wake up to a new day. —

Whumper woke up in bed. The bed they’d burned the night before.

Whumpee was still in their basement. Alive, sitting cross legged on the basement floor.

Whumper screamed.

“Damn you! Damn you to hell, you wicked creature!” They kicked at the bars, the pain not registering. They watched through beary eyes as Whumpee ignored them.

They were done. They were done with this.

“You want your freedom so badly?” Whumper scrambled to pull the key from their belt, movements frantic. “Then take it, take it and let me go!”

They swung the cell door open with such force that it slammed against the wall. They didn’t care what happened next. If the creature killed them, if the hunters killed them when they returned, so be it. Whumper wanted out.

For the first time, Whumper saw Whumpee move. They untangled their legs with grace, unfolding like a crane as they lifted themselves from the dirty mattress. They walked on elegant, sure legs, moving past Whumper without so much as a glance.

They disappeared up the stairs without a word.

Whumper didn’t follow them.

— Whumper woke up. On shaking legs, they stumbled down into their basement, prayers on their lips.

Whumpee was there. Sitting, again. Quiet, again. Waiting, for what Whumper did not know. They were still there.

The door to the cell was still open. It felt like the maw of a beast, ready to consume Whumper whole.

Whumper screamed.

For the first time, Whumpee smiled.

#magical whumpee #fae whumpee #whumper #whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #how the turns have tabled! #captivity whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 11 #whumpee death

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Oh Hello it's ON TIME AGAIN!?

Hey. Anyway time tag ya'll! Are we writing like the wind this week? @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thequeenofthewinter, @thana-topsy, @kookaburra1701, @oblivions-dawn, @throughtrialbyfire, @polypolymorph, @archangelsunited, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @dirty-bosmer, @gilgamish, @elfinismsarts, @saltymaplesyrup, @inquisition-dragonborn, @snippetsrus, @expended-sleeper, @wildhexe, @rainpebble3, @nuwanders, @sylvienerevarine, @demonablack83, @viss-and-pinegar, @late-nite-scholar, @greyborn2, @skyrim-forever, @rhiannon1199 and YOU yes you if I've forgotten your tag, it's actually HERE, you just can't see it. Tag me back :> Do the thing. Write the words!

So for this week, we have finished the Raven Rock arc and moved on to chapter 31 (of The World on Our Shoulders) and our favorite bean is back getting into a Situation~

More fresh-from-the-braincells content below the cut! Some overlap with Arc things, but some new words, too :>

6th of Sun’s Dawn 4E 202

Athis dodged out of the way as a glass greatsword came crashing down from out of the darkness. He jumped forward and stabbed into the weak spot between plates of glass armor. The Thalmor shrieked and pulled a Heal spell into his hands, greatsword clattering to the ground. Both sounds echoed down the stone passageways. In the distance, Avulstein was shouting something incomprehensible, answered by the shrill death throes of yet another Altmer. He had to move. There was no time to faff around with theatrics. The rest of these n’waah would be converging on them like draugr any second from now.

With a sickening crunch, Athis withdrew his sword. The Thalmor scrambled to press the magic into the wound, to no avail. Blood bubbled up out of his mouth as the light left his eyes, guts pooling inside his armor. Athis frowned and flicked the blood off of his sword as the man slumped forward into the mess of his own viscera. A terrible, inhuman howl answered Thalmor screams, which sent a shiver down his spine. Such was the way it had to be, apparently. So much for sneaking.

If Thorald was still alive, he’d be in the dungeons. That would be below ground, the best Athis could wager. Northwatch keep seemed to spiral in a purposefully confusing pattern, not unlike a Nordic tomb, built backwards and lopsided, prone to collapse. He wondered if that was on purpose, perhaps to keep the doomed from ever finding a way out again. With a quick glance around at the cells, it seemed that was the case here, at least. So many corpses, shattered limbs dangling at odd angles, stored in cells. For what, he didn’t want to know. The Thalmor liked to look proper on the outside, but all he’d ever known of them was darkness.

They’d driven his wife away, after all. Even if that wasn’t the full truth, it was enough for him to focus his fury at them. He’d said it before. He’d strangle the life out of every single one of these bastards with his bare hands if it meant making Skyrim safe for her again. He glanced up at the ceiling once the flash of anger passed, the sound of dragon wings still haunting his waking thoughts. As safe as it could ever be, anyway.

He adjusted his cloak, annoyed at the stains blooming over the fabric. He checked his armor — none of the blood was his, thankfully. He was too fast for them on their best days. He tightened his grip on the Skyforged sword, knit his brow and marched on. The roars and and shrieks above him hinted at exactly the kind of fate these Thalmor had brought down upon themselves when they decided to take Thorald.

Athis would have preferred to get in here and get out without drawing so much attention to themselves, or without bringing the ire of the entire faction onto their shoulders before Thorald was safe. The fights could have come later when they were more prepared and not as outnumbered. But Farkas, being who he was, had shifted with the Moons and the low-burning rage he’d been holding inside for weeks. Aela and Fralia had told him to wait before trying to figure out exactly what had happened — in the end, it was more Civil War stupidity.

The increase in Thalmor activity lately had troubled Athis incessantly. He thought about how odd their encounter on the road home had been before Nyenna had run off. Jarl Balgruuf did his best to keep the roads of Whiterun Hold clear of them, but they crawled now like insects, swarming where they shouldn’t. All this after Tullius had made a point of encroaching on some fort or another. Athis hadn’t paid that much attention. After that, the chaos had started to get more and more uncanny, like inroads were being paved for these bastards.

#MareenaWrites #WIP Whenever #WIP Wednesday #The World on Our Shoulders #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked #Athis #LDB/Athis #Farkas #Avulstein #Thorald #Skyrim #Skyrim fic #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #fanficblr #writeblr #writblr #Nyenna

[kaihuntrr]

part seventeen: delight.

Skizz and Tango get bread.

The world was dark, cast under the shadow of the night as a distant chilled breeze wafted over the naval base. Gray clouds slowly passed through the skies overhead, giving the sky the faintest hint of movement as leaves gently rustled on trees. Off-shift soldiers were nestled in their beds, holding themselves and their blankets for warmth and comfort, enjoying what little peace they had in the evening cold.

Except, tonight proved much different than others.

Skizz’s eyes slowly opened, his mind yearning to sleep but his body was moving itself. His eyes were half-lidded and adjusting to the darkness as he pushed himself out of bed. They’d moved down to the soldiers’ lodging for the night. His friends were asleep, their chests rising and falling slowly as they curled deeper into themselves. Why was he the only one awake? His body moved him forward, making small steps and exiting the room they shared. Skizz stumbled out of the building in hazy, sluggish steps. 

Skizz looked out at the sea beyond the edge of the island. The ocean air sent shivers down his spine as the warm blood of sunrise began to spill over the horizon. Dewdrops that formed on blades of grass fell to his feet as the faintest lingering hints of lantern light blew out. For a moment, he thought the only thing that dragged him here was the chance to watch night turn into day, but he heard something in the distance. His mind fizzled out, no longer filled with any conscious thought or feeling. His only instinct was to follow.

Singing.

A soothing and gentle, yet loud voice hummed out in the waters. Skizz couldn’t see anything up ahead but the dark skies, but his vision was blurry, so there might have been something. The singer’s voice was apparently heard all throughout the base. Skizz walked steadily forward, moving closer and closer to the water, as soldiers brushed past him at a faster clip. He couldn’t register who was around him, the only thing he focused on was the voice.

“Follow me,” Skizz’s mind warped as the cooled sand touched his feet, imagining the singer speaking to him through their song. “Leave your world behind.” Skizz nodded, as if the singer could see him respond.

Closer and closer, Skizz walked to the beach as water ebbed and flowed in and out of the waves. He took a breath as he took one step into the wet sand. A second step. A third. One foot in front of the other, the water lapped against his body as he stood waist-high into the ocean. The singer’s voice was louder, but there were no words spoken, only their humming as the harmony resounded in his ears; a harmony of the tides, the breeze, and the singer coming to a crescendo as his steps became heavier. Water pulled against him, the waves dragging him out to the sea as they crashed on top of him and countless soldiers, swallowing him.

His mind focused on the singer.

He needed to get closer- to find the singer of that melodic, alluring tune. He didn’t care about the water, how the cold stabbed into his body like icy daggers and squeezed his chest tight. He needed to get closer. 

The voice stopped singing.

All at once, Skizz regained full control of his body, clarity and panic rushing back to him. Water rushed into his lungs as he tried to gasp. He scrambled to the surface, throwing his head above water and taking heavy breaths as more heads burst out of the water around him. The waves were eerily calm, blessing Skizz and the rest of the soldiers with an easy current. Skizz looked around at the sea of people hurriedly swimming back to shore, and he did the same. His eyes stung with seawater as he pushed through the waves, a small push from the waves bringing him to shore, and crashed on the wet sand of the beach.

“Medic!” One of the soldiers shouted, their voices muffled with the water trapped in Skizz’s ears. “We need help!”

He looked ahead, seeing lanterns from some of the buildings turn bright as the distant sounds and creaks of doors slam open and bells rang out. He noticed blurry figures from the top of the walls run down to assist those who collapsed on the beach. There was help. His vision fizzled out as sets of footsteps approached him, his world faded back into darkness as his exhaustion buried him deeper.

—————

“He’s waking up!”

Skizz opened his eyes only to immediately shut them at the brightness of the room. With multiple blinks, he opened his eyes with a squint. He could see Tango sitting on his right with Impulse and Etho sitting on the other side. There was the murmur of faint conversations in the background, beyond a white curtain cutting off the rest of the room with voices he couldn’t recognize as his three friends stared at him in shock.

“What… what happened?” Skizz kept his voice low as he slowly sat up to look at each of his friends. His head buzzed, an odd feeling as one of his hands gripped his forehead. “Is everyone alright?”

“We should be asking you that,” Tango’s eyes narrowed, raising his voice in shock. “You and a bunch of other soldiers almost drowned!”

Drowned?!

Skizz looked at Tango with a shocked expression, dropping his shoulders and his jaw as his skin went cold. “What?!” he snapped. He pivoted his head to each of his friends, trying to find any answers in their expressions. “Did anyone actually-?” He cut himself off, but his breathing quickened.

“No, thankfully,” Impulse shook his head, placing a hand on Skizz’s shoulder as the man sighed with relief. He glanced at the floor before looking at Skizz. “They’re all being checked. Some caught water in their lungs and some went into shock, but no one died- or disappeared.”

“No casualties, except the drones. They’ve stopped working,” Tango sighed as he crossed his arms. His expression turned bitter, annoyed at the thought of such priceless machines getting destroyed. He shook his head, trying hard not to focus on his thoughts as his friend was more important than some machine. “Water and Owen checked them earlier. They were both unresponsive to any commands from the tower.”

Tango and Impulse, along with the Herons, could probably make or jerry-rig something to bring it back to the surface for retrieval. Skizz held back a sigh. That probably meant they’d need to go back to the kingdom for it to get repaired. There was no way for them to get their evidence if their drones were all busted up. 

“That sucks,” Skizz leaned his back against the bed. If his friends were here, what were those Herons doing? Tango only mentioned Water and Owen, but the rest of them… Skizz hoped none of them had gotten in the water. Sure, no one had died, but still… “What are the Herons up to now?”

“They’re helping take care of the others, along with the rest of us who didn’t get in the water,” Impulse motioned at the room behind him with his hands. He paused before his gaze dropped and a sigh escaped him. “A lot of you went in there.”

After a long break of silence, Etho finally spoke up. He looked Skizz dead in the eye, his gaze piercing as his eyebrows furrowed. He leaned in close. “...What happened out there, Skizz?”

“I…,” Skizz blinked. What happened? He tried going through his head to remember, but he only managed brief glimpses of waking up and walking to the water. Everything else was either blurry or made his head start to buzz. “I don’t… I don’t remember all of it.”

Taking deep breaths, Skizz wanted to tell them everything he had glimpses of. Any information was good, right? “It was dark outside, and I don’t know why, but I wanted to take a walk. Everything was fine, and chilly, but I just kept walking to the ocean.” He could feel the sand against his feet and the morning chill against his spine. 

“Anything else…?”

Skizz shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked at the ground and frowned. “That’s all I can recall, I don’t know why or how that happened.”

“It’s fine, Skizz. Don’t worry about it,” Impulse patted Skizz’s back. “How do you feel now?”

Skizz looked at Impulse and smiled. “Better than earlier, that’s for sure,” he chuckled weakly. He didn’t want to stay bedridden all day. He was breathing, no longer in a state of shock, and he did have some plans for today. “...I don’t need to stay here the whole day, do I?”

“Can you even walk right now?” Etho raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I can,” Skizz rolled his eyes with a smile. He attempted to get off the bed as he pushed himself up. He stood on his feet, “Just watch m–” he took one step before almost collapsing, he would have landed painfully on the floor if not for Etho swiftly catching him.

“I think it’s best if you stay down today, Skizz,” Impulse forced a smile, a look of concern on his face. Impulse titled his head as Etho set Skizz on the bed, “We can delegate your tasks to the Herons.”

Skizz shook his head. A little tumble didn’t mean anything. He could walk. There wouldn’t be any mishaps today. “No, I’ll be fine,” he sighed. If he did have issues, hypothetically, he could just take it easy. He had a craving for some sweets, he could just indulge in that…. “Maybe a walk through the market would be nice. Get something sweet to eat.”

Impulse, Etho, and Tango shared a look, mentally debating if this was a good idea or not. “...Alright, but only if one of us goes with you,” Impulse smiled. He turned to his blonde friend, “Tango, do you mind going with him?” 

“Not at all! I’ve been wanting to stretch my legs out for a good while,” Tango grinned. He stood up to stretch his arms and reached one out to his friend, “Shall we?”

Skizz took Tango’s hand, smiling. “We shall.”

—————

Skizz and Tango rode on horseback. It felt refreshing to ride away from salty beach air to the lush greens and smell of forest and trees as they approached the nearby city. It was the smell of freedom. Tall trees covered the two of them from the sunny sky in a cool shade as they trotted along the dirt road. Bushes sprawled out around them with grass and flowers and rocks blanketing the forest floor as animals pranced around in the distance. Skizz closed his eyes to feel the fur on his horse and to listen to the soothing melodies of birdsong, a feeling of tranquility washed over him.

“Hey,” Skizz cracked one of his eyes open at the sound of Tango’s voice. “Wanna race?”

The blonde smirked, patting the neck of his horse as Skizz rolled his eyes and smirked back. While Skizz would have preferred a long, relaxing walk with his friend, Tango had things to do today, and so did he. Skizz’s grip on the reins tightened, “On the count of three.”

“One… Two…”

“Three- Go!” Tango blurted out quickly as he suddenly tapped his horse’s side with his legs, causing it to whinny and gallop forward. Skizz stared at his friend, wide-eyed and surprised, before doing the same with his horse to gain speed.

“Tango!” Skizz laughed. Tango turned his head and stuck out his tongue as his horse ran faster. Skizz shook his head and grinned, “No fair!”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you can’t catch up!” 

Skizz loved his job, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. It gave him the opportunity to goof off with his friends. And he loved to goof off with his friends. He could be in any sort of bad spot, but spending time with them was more than enough to boost his energy and excitement. Skizz was only a few paces behind Tango, shouting at him with a playful tone. “I’ll get ya!” 

Tango and Skizz raced through the forest, luckily not running into anyone they might run over. But that was to be expected, people didn't tend to go to the naval base except for the soldiers who worked there but lived in town or very concerned citizens. They took some turns through trees and splashed through some puddles as they raced. Skizz relished in the wind rushing through his body and the fresh smell of dewdrops as he pressed on.

The two of them laughed like kids as the surrounding forest became a blur. Their only focus was to get to town first. Tango began to slow down as he saw the gray, stony wall before him. The forest’s dirt path became cobblestone, the horse’s hooves clicking against the hard surface. He gently tugged on the reins as the horse’s gallop turned into a trot then into a walk. Skizz followed close behind, trotting closer to the gate as his horse slowed and then stopped. He patted the horse’s neck and smiled, then flashed a smirk at Tango.

“I won.”

“No you didn’t,” Tango crossed his arms and grinned playfully. “I got here first!”

Skizz put his hand on his chest and puffed it out. “Well, I stopped closer, so that means I won,” he snickered as Tango shook his head. Technically he won! Tango trotted up to Skizz and the two shared an amused look before Skizz turned to the two guards in front of the gate. They had some armor on, the helmets and metal padding on their body but nothing too spectacular, and they held spears with a stiff, straightened pose. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

“Good morning, commanders,” the two of them saluted. The one on their left continued, “We’ll open the gate for you two.”

Skizz nodded in acknowledgement. “That would be appreciated.”

The passing sounds of the forest were drowned out as the metal gate before the two captains creaked open, sets of chains pulling the barrier up and locking it in place, allowing for entrance. Skizz led the way, dismounting his horse to lead it through the narrower path. He and Tango wouldn’t want to cause any accidents. 

The city was loud and noisy, reminiscent of the castle towns Skizz found himself becoming increasingly familiar with, but the state of some of the buildings was less than ideal for his standards. Buildings pressed against each other even as they varied in height, creating a discomforting mismatch with some small buildings next to tall towers. Unlit lantern posts littered the streets, with many acting as supports for stands selling all sorts of items had people selling and bartering with an almost frantic energy. Conversations rang throughout the city walls, crowded streets pushing and shoving. If Skizz wasn’t so focused on his own goal he’d get lost in all the noise. Perhaps he was too used to the quiet life, all this bustle was still unfamiliar territory. Though, this wasn’t his first time here.

Skizz’s stomach grumbled, as if telling him to focus more.

“Any preferences?” Tango asked as he nudged Skizz’s side. The blonde looked outward across the busy street, holding the reins of his horse as he walked beside his friend. “Maybe we could drop by that old bakeshop that Zed fixed up. He hasn’t seen you in forever.”

Skizz’s mouth watered as he considered it. Sugary sweet delights in freshly baked goodness. He wasn’t hungry for anything heavy, but he was a sucker for some good pastries, especially those made by an old friend. “Pastries sound delicious,” he smiled. “Let’s go!”

Skizz hadn’t been in this city for a while. Like most other cities and port towns, it was a hodgepodge of buildings and people, but it filled him with relief that the commoners here were getting by. Their day-to-day exchanges were mundane, but every single person made an impact. He admired that sense of community big towns had as he walked through the streets, passing by strangers he’d never talk to, hearing conversations he’d never engage in, and passing by homes he’d never set foot in. 

The world felt small when an entire group of people lived within the same set of walls, though he loved living with his crew, but he couldn’t help stopping to take in crowds of different individuals living in a whole other state of mind, with various sets of histories and doing a mirage of activities was exciting. It was these people that the navy were protecting, and Skizz would happily give up his life for these strangers who’d never know him.

But he couldn’t do his job if an important gadget was malfunctioning.

“I think we might need to return to the kingdom soon, get those drones checked by Doc,” Skizz broke the silence as he stared forward, one hand holding his horse’s rein while he tucked the other in his pocket. He glanced at Tango and tilted his head, “Think we might be able to fix it before then?”

Tango shrugged. “Probably? It also records stuff, so at the very least maybe we’ll see what happened earlier- if it's salvageable…,” he scratched the back of his head, his voice trailing off. The two continued to walk in silence until Tango spoke up again, “What do you think happened out there?”

He’s referring to what happened earlier, Skizz thought. He couldn’t blame the blonde- if Skizz was in Tango’s place, he’d be just as curious. 

Which was why it was frustrating for his memories to still be gone. It was like something had cursed him to forget.

“Honestly, I’m not sure myself,” Skizz admitted as he stared at the ground. He walked in contemplative silence for a moment, watching his legs move as he kept quiet. Speaking about this in public was probably not the best idea. “All I know is that there’s something weird in the ocean.”

“You can say that again,” Tango sighed and rubbed his face, rolling his eyes with a bitter expression. “Good thing we got those Herons to help us figure this out, right?”

Tango and Skizz shared pleasant smiles. At least they had each other. But what kind of event would pull all those soldiers into the sea? He was sure the Herons wouldn’t have any information. Perhaps he could ask the… no, asking them would be a bad idea. The Watchers were shady. “...Do you think it’s got something to do with the sea princes?”

“Those things?” Tango raised an eyebrow and hissed. He paused, waiting for a response from Skizz, but when he didn’t answer Tango narrowed his eyes. “They don’t make any logical sense. I don’t know why the king would want us on a wild goose chase like this. Could be an excuse for something.” Tango shrugged.

Skizz shook his head. “It’s the king, Tango,” he whispered, nudging his friend. “He must have some reason behind it.”

“I’m sure he does, but come on, don’t you think it’s kind of weird?” Tango whispered back. He abruptly stopped as he smelled that delicious scent of freshly baked pastries. He smiled, taking the reins of Skizz’s horse, “Anyway, we’re here. Get something good, tell Zed I said hi, and hurry back. I’m starving.”

The king had never asked for such a big creature before. Sure, Skizz would notice the carcasses of huge beasts being dragged to the kingdom’s port for researchers to study, some were even sedated to be brought to the colosseum for death matches, but a sea prince was new. What was the king planning to do with it? Why now, out of all the previous years, would the king want a sea prince? Skizz knew better than to not ask these questions, but he’d be lying if he said he never thought about asking. 

He admired Tango’s ability to speak up, but he was also quite cautious about it.

Skizz nodded at Tango, giving his horse a little pat on the neck before proceeding inside.

The bakeshop had changed a lot since he’d been there last. The lower part of the walls were an off-white yellow with cobblestone walls that lay on top. Shelves and tables displayed different baked goods, some of the baskets only left with a few crumbs. A quaint open space with a table and chairs laid in the center of the room, now with a window peeking through to the chaotic shuffle of the city. All good changes.

The only thing that didn’t change, however, was the wonderful owner of this shop.

“Ah! Skizz, it’s been too long! All your time here, but only Impulse and Tango cared to visit me,” a familiar voice called out with a laugh. Skizz looked up and grinned widely as the speaker stepped into view. “Glad you made it.”

Zedaph was a curious fellow. He was kind, fun, and a smart cookie. He was a creative man, coming up with all sorts of weird devices to show off to Skizz and his friends back when they were teens. Skizz had been surprised that the blonde chose to pursue a quiet life in the city rather than help researchers and scientists like Doc on their projects. Maybe one day he could- Zed wouldn’t even sweat if he tried to get in!

Zed was on the other side of the counter, working away at some dough as flour caked his clothes and face, but he had paused to smile at his old friend with a warm look in his eyes.

“Zed! My apologies, work has gotten in the way, but Tango says hi,” Skizz forced a laugh. Zed crossed his arms and rolled his eyes with an endeared smile. “How goes your bakeshop?”

“It’s been good, business is alright,” Zed shrugged. He tilted his head, “What’ll it be?”

Skizz hummed. Perhaps it was a bad idea to make decisions on an almost empty stomach. “A whole basket full of goodies,” he grinned. “Muffins, breads, cookies, enough to feed… nine people for a snack break?”

Zed let out a chuckle. “What, hoarding some food for the trip ahead?” he shook his head. He dusted the flour off of his hands as he gestured to the pastries on display. “Take some of the ones in the baskets and I’ll give you some of the fresh ones. I’m sure they’ll enjoy these.”

“Well…,” Skizz’s eyes flitted away. Zed hummed in curiosity as he filled a big basket full of freshly baked cookies. “Something just… happened, in the base today and I wanted to treat my team.”

Zed dropped his smile, “And that is…?” He tried to get Skizz to look at him, but Skizz continued to eye the ground. Zed sighed, “Oh, sorry, I won’t pry.”

Skizz shook his head. “It’s no worries, really,” he turned around to pick out some of the bigger loaves of bread and sandwiches, taking some muffins with him too. He had set them on the counter and pulled out a couple of gold pieces as Zed arranged all the pastries into a single sizable basket. “But… thank you for your concern.”

“Anytime, my friend,” Zed patted Skizz’s shoulder and smiled softly. They weren’t as close as they used to be anymore, but Skizz was happy to have him. “Stay safe out there!”

Skizz nodded. “You too.” The two friends waved each other goodbye as Skizz exited the shop, the door closing with a little click.

Tango turned towards him as Skizz approached, holding the big basket in his hands. He had been tending to the horses for a good while, gently stroking their faces.

“Oh, they look good,” Tango’s eyes widened in hunger. The smell of the fresh goodies was heavenly. “How was Zed?”

“Doing good, glad to know he’s alright,” Skizz glanced at the bakery and looked back at Tango. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

“Let’s go!”

Tango handed Skizz the reins to his horse and the two began to walk. Some of the residents stopped to look at them as they passed by. Tango kept glancing at the basket, his mouth beginning to water. “The guys are going to love all of this,” he looked up at Skizz. “Why did you get so many?”

“Well, if I was hungry from staying in bed the whole morning, the others should be even hungrier from running around the whole day,” he sighed. It must be tiring for everyone, who knows what tasks couldn’t be done today because of the whole… almost drowning event. “I know it can’t feed everyone, but I know we’ll be able to ensure the base is right back to where it used to be.”

“Agreed,” Tango nodded. He stretched his hand out towards the basket. “Maybe I can take a little– ow!” Tango’s head smacked against a blur that ran into him, knocking both of them down on the ground. 

The stranger was a girl with long ginger hair, braided and tied, that fell down her back as thick as a rope. She had green eyes with a dress to match. A purple and pink capelet rested on her shoulders with light brown boots sticking out from under the hem of her dress. She dusted herself off and looked at the two with confusion on her face.

Tango rubbed the aching part of his head, huffing as Skizz put the basket down to help him up. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

The girl pushed herself up and rubbed her forehead. “Oh! I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking,” she shook her head, smiling sheepishly. She dusted off her clothes before looking at the two with squinted eyes. “What’s with your outfit?”

“We’re part of the navy,” Skizz smiled. “You should be thankful we’re not some of the stricter ones, miss.”

The girl blinked, then nodded. “Oh, that makes sense,” she bowed slightly. “Really sorry for bumping into you. I was just looking for my brother.”

“You don’t know where he is?” 

“There’s a lot of people here, he could be anywhere!” the ginger shrugged. She had a point. With all the city life, anyone could get lost by wandering around. “He could even be right behind you.”

“Where–?” Skizz swiftly turned around to see a boy grabbing the basket he’d set down. The boy had shorter ginger hair and the shadow of unshaved stubble on his face. A red scarf was tossed over a blue gilet that hung open over a black shirt with gray pants and long brown boots and gloves– that were wrapped around the handle of Skizz’s pastry basket…!

Then the ginger swiftly sprinted away, taking Skizz’s basket with him, laughing all the while.

“Why you little–!” Tango barely held back the scream that’s been building up in his throat. It wasn’t a good idea to be shouting in public- they had an image to maintain. The navy’s face was more important than chasing a bread thief.

Tango and Skizz turned around to see the girl disappear into the crowd.

“They stole our stuff!” Tango pouted, stomping his foot on the ground. “Pastry-thieves!” 

“It’s alright, Tango,” Skizz said even as his eye twitched. He paid for all of that! Now it was gone! The thieves had disappeared in the sea of people, hiding amongst other civilians so they wouldn’t get caught. He took a deep breath. “We can just go back and buy some more, no problem.”

So long as those two don’t come back for more.

In a street alleyway a generous distance away from the two naval commanders, a pair of ginger twins laughed over their spoils. The funny part to them was that they couldn’t even eat it. One of the twins looked back from the way they came, curious as her mind lingered on the two strangers. Navy…, hm?

#the sea prince au #sea prince chapters #limited life smp #limited life #life series #life smp #trafficblr #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #scottyn #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon #skizzleman #tango #impulsesv #ethoslab #team ties #i wonder who those other two are ;> #eh #im sure you know lol #geminitay #fwhip

[thunderstroked]

Mare Scares || Mona & Inge

TIMING: after this. LOCATION: inge's townhouse. PARTIES: @nightmaretist & @thunderstroked SUMMARY: mona goes to visit inge after she learns she's been hurt. CONTENT: none!

Mona let herself in through the front door of Inge’s townhome this time, not feeling as though climbing up through the window would be polite considering Inge’s current state. Though, what was polite when your friend was stabbed with a sword? She would say it was fitting, but Inge wasn’t old enough to remember the time in which swords were used, and neither was she. It would have made more sense for something like a cattle rod, maybe. She had no clue, either way. 

“Inge?” Mona carried a few packs of sour straws she purchased and a bottle of her friend’s favorite wine– though, she was sure all of that was for show at this point. “Oh, there you are.” In the living room, where they’d had their reunion, Inge was on the couch. “I brought you things.” She struggled to pull them out of the bag she had slung half-over her shoulder. “Strawberry, and then that wine you talked about… what, ten years ago? Don’t say I never remembered anything.” 

—

She was no good at this. Inge had sustained different wounds over the years, but none of them quite as debilitating as these — this wasn’t one she could brush over or push past. This was felt in every move and step and it was more than frustrating. Every stab of pain was a reminder of failure. And during the nights, sure, it was manageable. During the nights she had the astral to turn to, that place where her body was something more magical than this humanoid form, but during the days? During the days she was enraged.

Good, then, that she’d accumulated a few good friends willing to visit a friend in need. She was forgoing her duties as a teacher slightly, taking sick leave after never having taken a day off for health reasons before. She just couldn’t do it, stand for the classroom all day when pain spread from her spine to her legs. So she worked from home and bristled and waited for friends to come

She was positioned in a way that hurt least, face brightening at the sight of Mona. “Dear you,” said Inge, beaming. “You’re an angel. One with a good memory.” She gestured towards her kitchen, “There's a clean glass in there for you. I have one here.” The dregs of old wine still laid at the bottom. “If you don’t mind grabbing it yourself.” She pushed herself up, jaws clenched. “Come sit.”

—

“That’s what I like to hear.” Mona beamed at Inge before glancing towards the kitchen with a nod. She padded into it, grabbing the glass that Inge had mentioned before finding the corkscrew on the same counter. She uncapped the wine and returned to Inge. 

Mona sat down on the far end of the couch, careful not to jostle her friend too much. “You look…” She tilted her head, surveying Inge for a moment, “not as bad as I thought somebody who’d gotten stabbed with a sword would look, but not great, either.” She was careful as she poured her own glass. She reached over for Inge’s dried glass and poured some of the bottle’s contents into it before putting it down on the side table and leaning down to where she’d put her bag at the base of the couch, grabbing the sour straws. 

As she ripped open the packaging, she gently laid them on the couch next to Inge. “How did you manage a sword? That seems dramatic.” Though her tone may not have conveyed worry, Mona was startled by the reveal that her friend had been hurt the way she had been. “Who did this to you?” 

—

Maybe this was the consequence of living so much of her life on another plane of existence. One where she could be a monster or murderer, create chaos and fear wherever she walked. Life on earth was meaningful to Inge, certainly, but she didn’t like its consequences. And now here she was, in pain, feeling so tethered and stuck in her useless husk of a body.

She huffed, somewhat amused. “I guess having an already dead complexion helps in that regard,” she said. There was no chance at undereye bags for someone who didn’t sleep to begin with, no paling from injury when she didn’t have red blood anyhow. “I feel worse than I look, admittedly, but I’m glad my features don’t reflect it.” She remained vain. The scar that would appear on her stomach was going to create a dent in her confidence, but at least her face remained mostly unmarred.

She reached for her glass, a small wince pulling at her lips. “God, I know. I’ve not known many hunters to wield them.” Inge pressed the top of her glass against her chin, preparing herself to tell Mona about what had transpired. “A banshee and I, we kind of teamed up to kill a warden. He’s the one that put me in his bunker, remember? A real cruel son of a bitch — went after one of my students, too. I don’t generally do revenge, but I thought maybe this time …” She took a hefty sip. “Anyway, we got him. We were going to kill him after keeping him for a while.” No mention of the leg. She didn’t want to think about the toes and the foot and the leg. “And then another hunter showed up. With a sword. Knew what I was so kept me from projecting by pinning me to the wall. With a sword. My banshee companion …” She bristled, a flash of anger passing over her face. “Let them go. Lesson learned, I suppose — fighting fire with fire isn’t worth it.” 

—

“I guess you’ve got me there.” She was friends with enough individuals who were of the undead variety that she felt as though she should better understand what it meant for them when they got hurt, but it seemed to vary across each person. Mona knew that asking Inge questions about her pain, or where it hurt most was probably only going to further frustrate the mare, so she kept the questions for later. “You look great, yes. Especially for having been stabbed.” With a sword, she wanted to reiterate. 

“They must’ve been dramatic, too.” So it had been a hunter, then. Maybe not a slayer given the fact that they hadn’t killed Inge when they had the chance. Either that, or they were severely underequipped. As Inge began to recount the story of what had happened to her, Mona listened intently, sipping at her own glass. “That’s… a lot.” Mona sat up slightly, a frown deepening at the corners of her lips. “That was extremely stupid of you to go after a hunter– you know they replicate. If there’s one, there’s a dozen more.” She’d had her fair share of run-ins with hunters, but none where she’d gotten injured. She was far too smart for them, and she didn’t like putting herself in positions where a hunter having the upperhand would happen. Then again, she thought that Inge would have been, too, so maybe her time was coming. Maybe this was a lesson to not be so full of herself. 

“I doubted the hunter when you first mentioned them, but after they pinned you down… I guess they’re smarter than the average serial killer, huh?” With a sigh, she leaned back into the couch again, taking another sip. “I’m glad that’s all that happened to you. What happened to them? Do you know where they went?” Mona had zero intention of finding them to enact her own dose of revenge, but rather to avoid them completely. 

—

It mattered little what she looked like, and yet she cared. Inge wanted to be the kind of person who could take pride in her appearance at face value, to not put stock in what she looked like — but with her body caught in stasis she felt an urgency to look good. Even post-stabbing. And though Mona couldn’t see the stitched wound now, though she probably would be kind enough to say that her scarring wouldn't be too bad, she still said what she wished to hear. “Thank you,” she said, tone more sure of herself than she was. “You look, as per, absolutely fabulous.”

Mona wasn’t beating around any bushes and that was good, in a way — it kept Inge honest. But to admit she’d fucked up, that she’d possibly invited more trouble in her home in stead of ending something by taking a life. Still, she took a fairly long sip from her glass. “Yeah. I fucked up. Chose the wrong person to trust. I indulged, I guess, though I’m not sure I even enjoyed it.” She rubbed her forehead, as if attempting to smooth out lines that would never grow deeper. “We should’ve just killed him when we had the chance, that first chance. Drawing it out like that, makes us like them. Made us … open a window for this.” A vague gesture to her gut, where the sword had ran her through. 

She was quiet for a moment. Shame would have brightened her cheeks if she’d had any red blood. “He’s a Cortez. Big name in the slayer community, or used to be. Met his mother, buncha years back. I guess he knows what he’s doing.” Inge took another sip. “The fae I was with, she made them promise not to kill me. I had to promise not to hurt the other guy again. They all scurried off. I …” She laughed, bitter. “Remained. Until someone came and got me. Don’t know where they went, but I’m being cautious now. Not going out much during the day, sticking to the astral at night. Best lay low.” 

—

“I should– I wasn’t the one who got stabbed with a sword.” Mona’s tone fell beyond disbelief, echoing the topic that Inge had just disclosed. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it. What hunter would carry around a sword? That was… archaic, at best. She hadn’t been around long enough to really value the silver hilts, but she could understand that they weren’t the weapon of choice in most circles. 

Mona followed Inge’s gesture, frown pulling at the corners of her mouth as the other woman spoke of her own stupidity. “A part of you must have known it’d end like that.” Or worse, she thought. “It’s… hard to believe that people like them have people who care enough to save them. I really can’t imagine it.” All that she had to say for herself, or Inge’s sake, was that she was glad that somebody had shown up for her. She leaned forward, resting a careful hand on Inge’s shin. “But it’s not your fault, you were trying to…” Mona tried to imagine the girl that Inge had mentioned– “it was for a purpose, wasn’t it?” Even if she wouldn’t have ever done anything like that, she could understand it to a degree. 

The name meant nothing to Mona. The hunter families she was familiar with were either back in Ireland, or in Korea. They weren’t anything to mess with, and she assumed that by the look of Inge, this one wasn’t either. “You didn’t fuck his mom, did you? Did you rub that into his face or something? Was that what happened?” An attempt at a lighthearted joke– or as near as she could get it, Mona retracted her hand with a sigh, glass in the other hand brought to her lips as she took a sip. “She might have betrayed you, but she made sure you were safe.” That was probably better than Mona could’ve hoped for, all things considered. “I’m sure he’ll pay– the one who stabbed you through with that sword, too. What comes around goes around, as they say.” 

—

This was one of the reasons she liked Mona. The simple comment that pointed out the ridiculousness of the situation, almost blunt but somehow, because of that, exactly what she needed. “You’d look good after being stabbed with a sword also,” Inge pointed out, a little bit of amusement creasing her features. Her vanity be damned, she could still appreciate the beauty of those she truly cared for.

“I don’t know, I was certain we could do it. It would have been so easy to snuff him out when we had him … but I guess we were hubristic.” She blamed Siobhan, most of all, as that was easiest. Coming to grips with her own shortcomings was something she’d gotten increasingly worse at over the years. “I know. But they really do seem to care about one another, ready to die for each other … Should’ve just killed them both. If only I hadn’t been stuck on that wall.” How would she feel then? Victorious, right? It had to be. “I … I didn’t feel safe. I felt bad, most of all, for the girl. To be treated like a monster, like nothing less than a creature — it’s horrible. She should feel safe in her hometown, you know? Before she has to leave eventually.” Inge hadn’t felt safe in her hometown. It was an ugly feeling. She grimaced. “I’m not very good at caring about people in a productive manner, I think. And she’s so young, I can’t do my usual wining and dining and dancing with her, you know.”

Her face fell, her features cracking from shock and amusement. God, she loved Mona. She needed Mona. “No! Oh, no, all she wanted to do was kill me. Such a dull woman! Attractive, though.” Inge let out a laugh. “I did bother him about his mom, yeah, seems like he’s got some issues there. But fuck, no. I didn’t. Maybe I should tell him I did.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking of Siobhan. Not including herself in that promise. She was a puzzling woman. “She’s strange. I don’t understand her. And yes, I’m sure he’ll get his reckoning too. I’ll outlive both of them anyway. That’s how it always goes.”

—

Hand pressed to her chest, Mona raised a brow. “That is the highest compliment I think you’ve ever given me.” Hopefully it would never come to something like that, and while she knew it was just a joke, she couldn’t help but feel fearful that she might end up on the other end of a blade at some point, too. 

Mona wrinkled her nose, swirling her glass of wine. “I’m not sure how anybody like them could have love for anything, especially when they’re so eager to get rid of something just because they were told it was bad.” She’d met countless individuals who were branded as terrifying that really, in actuality, would never hurt a fly. Inge, of course, did not fall into that category, but somebody like Felix did. “Maybe they’ll end up dying for each other one day, who knows.” She shrugged simply, as if willing it to happen. Two less hunters in the world wouldn’t be exactly the worst thing to ever happen. “As long as it’s not you who’s the one doing the harming, obviously.” She shot Inge a coy smile. 

It pained her, the idea of the girl that was possibly too young to understand what had happened to her, or the world she lived in. She knew that if the roles were reversed and it was somebody like her– another kitsune found in the back of a ranger’s van, she might do well enough to set it ablaze before stealing the kid away. But she wasn’t brave like Inge, not in the slightest. “You did what you thought was right, and sure, it didn’t go… the way you wanted it to, but…” She shrugged, “hopefully something else’ll take care of them. It’s what they deserve, isn’t it?” As Inge went on to explain her typical methods, Mona let out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, I know.” 

“That’s very disappointing. I thought that maybe he was upset with you because of that. Now it’s all about what you are– that’s boring.” She scrunched her nose, taking another sip of her wine– it was nearly gone now, and so she leaned forward to replenish it from the bottle at the side of the table. “Who doesn’t have issues with their mom? To those who don’t, I’d like to have a conversation.” Setting the bottle down, she let out a sigh before resting the glass against her leg. “Fae are…” She gestured vaguely, not really directing the motion to anything in particular, “strange.” Another sip, and Mona put the glass to the side, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t really dwell on not understanding them– they have a purpose, and they’ll follow it blindly. Maybe that’s what she was doing?” 

—

She was smiling and it was good, even if the simple movement of soft laughter made her stomach hurt. Inge was endlessly glad that somehow Mona had found her way to this strange little town, that they were reunited in this corner of the States. “Then I hope you’ll cherish it forever.” 

She found herself chewing on that idea for a moment. The love had been so clear in that room, the tethers that bound Rhett to the Cortez slayer so very obvious that they might has well not just have been metaphorical. “I guess anyone is capable of love,” she said, thinking of herself as she said it. “I doubt either of them is long for this world. I do intend to outlive them and whatever future generations they spawn.” She took a long sip from her drink and met Mona’s coy smile with one of her own — though there was something serious about her words when she said, “Promise. I’m done with this.” She should just focus on all else there was. Her dreams, her art, her people.

Inge found the topic of Ariadne a tough one, even when broached in the privacy of her own mind. To be confronted with such frail youth and innocence brought up memories of days long gone. There was plenty of reason she didn’t like to think of the first years post-transformation. Grief the first and foremost. When it came to grief she was avoidant. “These aren’t the type of people that die of natural causes, that’s for sure. Something will catch up with them.” Something more equipped to. “I suppose I’m lucky to have been turned when I was the age I was, hm? To be so undeveloped and then have to adjust to a life so different from your previous one?” Inge shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d been properly grown when she’d died, but she’d had more life experience than Ariadne had. 

She let out another laugh, her eyes creasing from a wince. “I know, right? A little unoriginal. There are much better reasons for hating me,” Inge said, draining her own glass and holding it out for a refill as well. “Hm, true. No such thing as a perfect mother-child relation, that’s for sure. Must’ve been something though, huh? Being raised to kill other people. Weird. Glad I just had to raise my kid to be a freethinking individual.” The comment was casual, one that could only be made in front of a select few when it came to her dead daughter. She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling as if the answers about Siobhan were written there. “Who knows. Probably had something to do with fate, why she decided to chicken out. Wish she’d figured that out before we got into all of this though.” 

She looked back up again. “Whatever. Enough wallowing, no? We should put on some music. And I want to hear about you. What’s the best customer tale you’ve got for me?” Inge leaned forward slightly, ready to devote her ears, eyes and attention to Mona for the rest of the night. There was no overstating the value of these kind of moments, even if she might at times forget how much it was truly worth.

#para: mare scares #para: inge #wickedswriting