ough metalblues is a plague on my mind and im gonna be thinking about them the whole day while at work

Tight Fit

Summary: This is just porn. You’re a receptionist that gets stuck in an elevator. Everyone is very happy about that.

This was just an excuse to write my faves :) Masterlist

No beta, I live on the edge.

Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader

Warnings: All the smut. Very corny porn with no plot. One line of implied Stucky. Minors DNI

The situation you found yourself in was altogether ridiculous. You had to deliver some documents to another floor. The information could have been handled by a phone call but bureaucracy. After hitting the button on the elevator, you realized you left one of the documents at your desk. A quick jog back to grab them left you running back to the elevator, scrambling to get between the doors before they closed. Then it happened.

You were stuck.

Somehow, you managed to get caught around your waist. Your upper body and head faced the inside of the elevator while your lower half was still stuck facing your desk. The papers you held spilled to the floor inside the elevator. The doors were tightly cinched around you, giving no leeway as you tried to wiggle your way out. You could feel your skirt riding up with the effort you exerted.

Steps coming down the hall caught your attention. Someone could help you!

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Judging by the voice it was Captain Rogers. America’s golden boy. Gorgeous Steve Rogers. You went weak in the knees at the sound of him and if you weren’t being held up by the elevator, you were sure you’d be swooning.

“Uh,” you tried your best to look behind you and through the doors, “can you help me out of here? I kind of had a little incident.”

“Oh?”

With your head turned, you watched as he came closer and put down his shield. The angle soon became too much for your neck and you turned back around, sighing and dejected.

“How bad is it?” you asked. He was silent for a moment.

“It doesn’t look bad at all. Maybe I can help.”

Steve came closer and firmly held you by the waist. The first attempt to pull you out was unsuccessful but he was undeterred.

“Maybe if I just...get closer.”

He stood right behind you to ground himself. His crotch was pressed up against your behind and your eyes widened.

Was he hard? That very much felt like an erection.

He pulled again, with a little more force this time. You may have budged by about an inch but no more.

“I don’t think it’s working,” you told him. He didn’t say anything. His hands began to wander along your lower back and down the sides of your thighs.

“Uh, Captain Rogers? Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Sorry, I just...your ass is so—I mean. I think maybe if I pull your skirt up I can get you out.”

That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But if Captain America wanted to ogle your ass you’d be a willing model for him. Even if he wanted to do a little more than that, it would be alright with you.

“Go ahead,” you urged him. You heard him sign in relief behind you before bunching your skirt up at your waist. He made a pained noise behind you.

“Your ass is amazing.”

“I thought you were getting me out?”

“I will, but consider this. You want to get out. I want to get off. Maybe we can help each other out.”

This was better than any wet dream or any fantasy you crafted. Captain America was asking to fuck you.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

Steve spanked you lightly before rubbing his hands all over your ass. He massaged it tenderly, kneading and appreciating the supple flesh. One of his hands lifted your thong and held it by the string.

“You always wear these to work?”

“Every single day,” you answered him. He chuckled behind you before pushing the material to the side.

The sound of his belt buckle excited you. How many people could say they got fucked by Captain America, one of the hottest people on the planet? How many people knew Captain America was an ass man?!

You both let out groans as he entered you. He was big, but you were ready. Plenty of sleepless nights riding dildos and imagining it was him had you prepared for anything he could give you. He slammed into you hard and you let out loud moans into the space of the elevator.

Steve’s hands never left your ass as he fucked you. Pinching and squeezing while he rammed into you. Soft groans of pleasure left his mouth, spurring on your own enjoyment. You bit your bottom lip, trying to keep your screaming to a minimum and braced one of your hands on the wall even though Steve was doing a good job of keeping you in place.

“Steve, it feels so good,” you cried out. He cupped your ass cheek, shaking it in his hand.

“I love watching your ass jiggle. Everyday you come in wearing these skirts. I’ve wanted to fuck you for months.”

The idea that you could have had this months ago made you want to kick yourself. You could have been fucking Captain America months ago?!

Steve sped up the rhythm of his hips, eagerly fucking you. Your body was alight with pleasure, happily taking everything he gave you.

“Such a tease, sweetheart. It’s like you’ve been taunting me all this time. Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh fuck yes!”

Steve laughed at your reply and reached his hand under you to play with your clit. Your legs shook at the stimulation and you cried out, clenching around him. Steve slapped your ass hard and had you coming all over his cock, moaning and squirming as much as you could in your position. He touched you until you were overstimulated and soon he was filling you up while a low moan of your name escaped his lips. He pulled out and let some of his cum spurt over your ass. You let out a deep sigh at the feeling of him dripping out of you.

Steve stood straight behind you and you heard him shift his weight while he fixed your underwear in place and pulled your skirt back over your ass.

“I’ll be back. Maybe Tony has something that can help.”

You sighed as you heard him step away and enter the stairwell. Sure he was fast, but he’d have to find Tony first. And there were how many floors in this building? Even with the elevator it was still a sizable ride from the first to top floor. You would probably be stuck for a while.

With nothing to do, you twiddled your thumbs before trying to wiggle around and get out. No luck. You were really jammed in there.

You perked you when you heard the door to the stairwell open.

“Steve?” you called out.

“Hey—whoa, what happened to you?” Definitely not Steve.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you asked. This was an embarrassing position to be caught in. Never in your life did you think you’d be greeting the Winter Soldier ass first. Oh well.

“Are you okay?”

You had just been fucked by one of the hottest men you’d ever met. Things could certainly be worse.

“I’m okay, but I’m stuck. Steve was here and he went for help. Do you think you can get me out of here?”

He had a metal arm for crying out loud. If he couldn’t get you out, who could?

“Hmm, let’s see.” You heard him approach and stop a bit behind you. He made a thoughtful noise.

“You have something on your skirt.”

Oh no. Now this was embarrassing.

Found stuck in an elevator covered in Captain America’s jizz.

“Oh, I must have, err, sat in something earlier!”

“I’m going to try to pull you out, okay?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me!”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and pulled, receiving the same result as his friend.

“Geez, you’re really in there. How did this even happen?”

You shrugged as best you could in your position.

“By all means it doesn’t make sense and yet, here I am.”

Bucky chuckled behind you.

“Okay, I think I get what’s going on here.”

“Huh? What’s going on?”

“If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just told me. You didn’t have to do some elaborate scheme.”

“But I’m not—“ you stopped yourself as you realized what he was saying, “umm, yeah. You caught me. Was it that obvious?”

It was really your lucky day. Getting laid by two Avengers? What could be better?

“Steve is such an overachiever. He covered you. God, I want to taste you.”

You perked up, suddenly not very keen on your escape plan.

“Then do it! I mean—that would be great! Do whatever you want to me!”

Bucky pulled your skirt up from where it clung to your skin. He groaned at the sight of you before getting to his knees.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I gotta get my tongue in that pretty pussy. Clean you up. Stevie really made a mess.”

You were nearly rabid from excitement.

Bucky pulled your thong down your legs and you happily stepped out of it. He lowered his face to your pussy and licked a stripe from your clit to your folds. He sucked on your lips sloppily before pulling away.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely Rogers.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“How would you—oh fuck!” Bucky took your clit between his plump lips and sucked hard, leaving you gasping for air. He moved his mouth up, pushing his tongue inside you and moaning as he cleaned you up.

He ate you like a starving man. Within minutes your legs were weak and ready to give out while he pressed against all your sensitive spots. His tongue began to circle your clit and you squirmed, pushing back against his face desperately. Bucky pushed a metal finger deep into your cunt and you moaned his name, still trying to push your hips even further against him. When he pressed another thick digit into you and curled his fingers, you were a goner. Vision blurred and body convulsing while he continued through your orgasm. A little burst of liquid from between your legs had your face heating up in embarrassment as you came down from your high.

Bucky pulled away from you and sat back on his heels.

“That was the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“That’s never happened before,” you confessed. You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know I was that good, but glad to be of service. When I get you out of here, I want you to sit on my face.”

“No complaints from me. That is, if I ever get out of here.”

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re going to get you out of here. I’m going to go find Steve and we’ll figure this out.”

He pulled your skirt back down and skipped off into the stairwell. You couldn’t help but notice he kept your underwear. You supposed it didn’t matter at this point, you weren’t exactly doing great at keeping up an air of modesty. You were starting to get sore around your middle from the cinch of the elevator door and hoped they would be back soon.

When the door to the stairwell swung open and someone else stepped out, you could tell by their gait it wasn’t either of the men you had already encountered.

“What is this? Who has done this to you?” Thor bellowed at the sight of you.

“No one did this to me,” you explained.

“This is strange. Some sort of Midgardian tradition?”

“No. I had to deliver some files and I got stuck in here.”

“A helpless maiden. This is certainly a problem I can solve. I’ll have to hold on to you. I hope that is not indecent?”

“Go ahead. Might as well try,” you encouraged him.

Thor circled his hands around your waist and pulled at an angle. To your surprise, you moved just the slightest bit. An idea hit you and you called out for him to stop.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked in concern.

“No, uhh—“

You had one chance to get this right. If Thor could actually get you out of here, maybe you could wait just a little longer and request something else.

“Thor, if you want to, we could do something else before I get out of here.”

“Oh? What could we do in this position?”

“I don’t mean to be forward, but if you want to fuck me you can.”

Thor was silent for a moment. You wanted to hit yourself for sounding so slutty. But you’d be crazy to set aside the opportunity. This wasn’t just anyone, there was a literal god standing behind you. It would be ridiculous not to even offer.

At east that’s what you convinced yourself.

“Well, who am I to deny a beautiful woman her carnal pleasure? I would love to fuck you,” he nearly growled.

You felt like you won the lottery.

Thor pushed your skirt up and gasped at what he saw.

“Oh, you are absolutely dripping. A very welcome sight.”

“Oh, yeah. Steve and Bucky are to blame for that.”

“Ah, they arrived here before I did. This won’t do at all. I’ll have to fill you with my godly seed.”

“You are more than welcome to do that.”

Thor pressed his thumb against your clit and you sighed, reveling in his touch. While he touched you, you heard him fumbling with his armor with his other hand. Thor pulled his hand away from you. Before you could complain, the head of his cock was pressed against your clit and rubbing in mesmerizing circles.

“Ah, that feels good,” you told him.

“I have something that will feel even better. Are you ready?”

“I can’t say yes enough.”

When he pressed against your entrance you realized just how thick he was. Certainly larger than Steve and bigger than any man you had ever been with. He pushed slowly into you, opening up your tight channel for him. Your inner walls clung snugly around his length as he fed you more and more of his cock. Just as you felt like it would never end, his hips were pressed firmly against you.

You let out a shocked gasp.

He stayed there for a bit to let you adjust but you wiggled your hips in protest. You wanted it now. His first thrust had you arching your back and holding onto the elevator door to keep yourself upright. It was like he was touching all of your insides at the same time. Brushing past every single sensitive spot you had and driving you crazy.

You were out of your mind as he fucked you. Absolutely drunk on his cock.

This is it, you thought. My hoeing is going to get me killed.

But what a way to go.

Thor grunted behind you and placed a hand on the back of your neck while the other firmly kept hold on your hip.

“You are breathtaking,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you managed to get out, “we’ll have to do this again some time.”

“You’ll have no complaint from me,” he assured you.

This experience would probably ruin normal men for you. Nothing could compare.

Thor made you cum so hard your legs went limp. He was pressed deep inside you, leaving you clenching hard around his thick length. Thor fucking growled as he came, thrusting so hard that both of you were pushed through the elevator doors and onto the floor.

His quick reflexes were the only thing stopping him from landing directly on top of you, instead landing beside you at your back. Sometime during your fall his cock had slipped out of you, leaving cum dripping down your thighs.

You had to laugh. The situation was too insane. But you were free! You turned to Thor with a bright smile.

“I could kiss you!” you yelled in excitement. Thor looked intrigued and opened his arms for you.

“I encourage it!”

You fell on top of him, smothering his lips with yours. Neither of you noticed the doors closing and the elevator ascending.

The doors opened to a shocked Tony and Pepper, looking down in horror at the mess of papers you and Thor were lying half naked in, still making out.

“How the hell are we going to explain this to HR?”

.

Important Author’s Note: I really wanna make out with Thor.

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 3]

[MORE CHAPTERS]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Word count: 7.5k ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

If you read Sigefrid’s lines in his voice… *chef’s kiss*

_______________________________________________

By nightfall a blissful silence had bestowed itself upon the mead hall. After a night of revelation, the Danes were lulled off to sleep by the sound of rain drumming against the roofs of their homes. They dreamt of what fortunes awaited them come the day King Alfred and his men set foot in Beamfleot — a momentous occasion though dreaded by a certain Dane and his princess. 

The sounds of their drunken snores were loud enough to wake the dead, had they not relished in horns of ale alongside the living, that is.

While vivid dreams of glory and great victories transpired beyond their wildest imaginations, Lady Blædswith was left wide awake to face the harshness of her reality. 

If she had been born and raised as a Dane, worshiping Odin instead of God, such a celebration would have been a great honor. However, the princess’s ailments reminded her that she was no guest of honor, but rather a bargaining tool at Lord Erik and Sigefrid’s disposal. 

Her ribs ached and groaned with each breath she drew; unsure if it would be her last. Her lungs, frail and winded, wheezed as if she’d inhaled plumes of smoke from the blacksmith’s forge. Her stomach growled like a ravenous hound starved from unsuccessful hunts despite the rations she was provided.

Her dirtied cheeks, stained with blood, sweat, and tears, were caressed by the emitted light of dancing flames, illuminating her pale skin with a golden hue of the gods. The tattered remains of her clothes hung off her limbs like those of a decaying corpse left to rot. She finger combed through the tangled knots and frayed ends of her hair, gagging in repulsion at the dirt and grime beneath her nails, and embedded in each crevice of her feeble hands.

King Alfred’s daughter looked, and felt, no better than a befouled slave girl.

Ghastly shadows were cast throughout the hall, dancing across the ceiling and hurdling over tables, chairs, and thrones alike. The shadows formed obscure shapes which taunted her weary mind, though not without providing her with a sense of calm; a distraction, even.

As her eyes adjusted, the fire became rather mesmerizing to watch; vibrant hues of yellows and oranges were a stark contrast from the cold, lifeless world around her. 

For a brief moment she lost herself entirely. She was no longer a hostage, nor in any sort of discomfort. Her worries, her guilt and sorrowful prayers that went unanswered were no more. The rampant thoughts that coursed through her mind seemed to stop entirely. 

The longer she gazed into the flames, the more her mind played devilish tricks on her... 

Within the fire pit emerged a vague image of herself: fearless; unafraid and carefree. She wielded a blazing shield and longsword of fire, fighting alongside the Danes instead of against them. In the end they were victorious, as the sounds of bone-chilling battle cries echoed throughout Midgard; throughout her mind. Sigefrid jogged up to Lady Blædswith, wrapping not one but two hands around her waist, and spun her around before tightly embracing her warmth. The two of them pressed their foreheads together; thanking the gods, rather than her God, for sparing each others’ lives and guiding them to victory against King Alfred of Wessex…

“Agh! You are not real.” She growled in a panic, squeezing her eyes shut and tugging at the roots of her hair as tears dripped down her face. “That, that will never be real.” She gulped dryly, “Not for me.” The princess ran a clammy hand over her face and wiped away her resentful tears as new ones began to fall. 

She wanted nothing more than to subside the affliction in her chest; within her aching heart that suddenly yearned for the impossible.

A throbbing pain surged through her shoulder once more, and reminded her of what she must do; the main reason she had sought to free herself from the cage that once confined her. A seething gasp escaped through her gritted teeth as she unwrapped her fur pelt and set it aside. 

The princess found herself sitting on the long, rickety bench once occupied by the Thurgilson brothers. Her fingertips mindlessly traced over carved intricacies in the woodwork, stalling, until she felt the coolness of metal beneath her palm. 

Taking the leather-bound handle in her firm grasp, she dipped the knife into the fire, watching as its blade glowed with an orange hue. Leaving it be, she ever so carefully tore away the rest of her blood stained blouse and fed it to the flames, pinching her nose at the foul smell of burning blood and sweat. With chills ripping through her exposed chest, she wrapped her arms around her core to preserve any remaining heat. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move beside the cage. Craning her stiff neck around, she surveyed the limp body of the Dane tasked with keeping a close watch over her as she slept. However, his own curiosities led him to an early demise, as he had ventured too close to the cage...

She was startled by the twitching of his leg; the toe of his leather boot seemed to repeatedly nudge one of the cage’s wooden panels. 

Furrowing her bushy, unkempt brows, she steadily rose to her feet and tiptoed towards the guard to investigate while the knife heated up. When a couple of mice scurried out of his pant leg, Lady Blædswith nearly squealed like a pig, shooing them away before she could impale them, too, with the knife. 

The mice found themselves inside her cage, willingly, as they sniffed around for leftover crumbs of bread. 

Pressing a firm hand against her thumping chest, the princess sighed in relief that her foolishness hadn’t woken anyone up - and that the guard was, in fact, dead. 

Kneeling beside the Northman she had slain, she retrieved a smaller blade from his pocket and began sawing off a piece of his leather armor. After all, what good was such armor to a dead man now enjoying the company of his gods, drinking ale within the Great Hall as beautiful valkyries fly overhead?

Surely, it would not be missed. 

She then crawled over his lifeless, pale body and carved a sloppy ‘B’ into the side of his bearded cheek, before using the bars of the cage to get back on her feet.

Within her eyes was a hatred that burned brighter than the fiery depths of Hel. Lady Blædswith spat on his corpse and seethed,

“Te sunt a vili, preverted partem de stercore. Pedicabo ego vos!”

(“You are a vile, perverted piece of shit. Fuck you!”)

Making her way back to the fire, the bare-chested Saxon took a seat and braced herself for what would be the greatest test of courage and inner strength. Now biting down on the piece of leather, she retrieved the blade from the fire and took a deep breath.

Do it, God Damnit! Just do it!

Her stomach was in a queasy knot; her vision faded in and out of a blur the longer she waited.

Slowly, trembling, she raised the glowing knife to her gaping arrow wound and pressed it into her skin. The ungodly sound and putrid smell of her sizzling flesh caused her to dry heave. Her wailing sobs of agony were somewhat muffled by the coarse leather between her teeth...

She could taste hot, salty tears upon her lips as every tendon and muscle in her body strained and constricted in agony. Lady Blædswith, breaking out in a hot, sticky sweat, continued to force the blade against her skin until she could no longer handle it. When she had enough, the princess collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as she could feel herself suffocating.

“I-it’s almost over.” Lady Blædswith spat out the leather square and huffed convincingly with a breathy half-chuckle. “God damnit!” She writhed, instantly clutching a hand over her mouth to conceal her whimpers. “J-Just once more on the other side-” Just she began to hoist herself, unsteadily, back onto the bench - she stopped.

Frozen in time like a guilty thief caught in the act, she could hear a pair of quickening footsteps growing louder by the second. Snapping her gaze upright to the wooden balcony overlooking the hall, it was none other than a disturbed Sigefrid Thurgilson awoken from his much needed slumber like a bear out of hibernation.

“Dear God.” 

Her hands briskly shot to cover either of her breasts as she scrambled for her pelt, immediately wrapping herself in it to preserve what remained of her modesty. Seemingly agitated, the eldest Lord of Beamfleot descended down the stairs like a bat out of Hell. 

“S-Sigefrid.” She greeted nervously, not knowing how he would react to her newfound freedom. Her brown eyes were wide with sheer terror - that much he could see. 

What were the odds that he of all people had heard her? Perhaps he was already awake, enjoying the company of a beautiful slave girl who, to some degree, reminded him of King Alfred’s daughter.

Sigefrid’s rather unkempt, bearded jaw had plummeted through the creaky floorboards revealing sharp rows of teeth. His dark and unruly brows were furrowed tightly together and turned upright with worry and utter confusion. 

Except for a light cardigan over his arms and baggy pants hanging dangerously low on his pelvic bones, he too was without a shirt. His hand-blade, to no surprise, was strapped on tight and ready at his side. 

“Lady-” Sigefrid began in a hurry, panning around the room until he spotted his most trusted hound gnawing on the cooked, severed arm of the guard he’d instilled to watch over her. “What… did you do?!” He cried in disbelief, now approaching the cowering Saxon who seemed worse for wear. “I… I heard your cries.” Frowning, Sigefrid took a light seat upon the furthest end of the bench after making sure she was out of harm’s way.

Ever so slightly pulling back the trim of her pelt, Lady Blædswith revealed her newly charred, cauterized shoulder and the haunting imprint left from the blade she used. 

The princess watched as a look of horror overcame the Dane’s face, causing him to avert his gaze out of discomfort.

“My arrow wound became infected. It was slowly killing me so I… took it upon myself to handle it.” Peering over to the dead guard, she cleared her throat and attempted to justify herself, “Y-you should be grateful. After all, what good is a dead princess to a king? I-I had no choice but to save myself.”

The hound began coughing and heaving until it hacked up a whole finger by Sigefrid’s bare foot, only to be shooed away out of sheer disgust. Sigefrid then grumbled with a slight grin, “Damn dog.”

“Well, I had to keep him quiet somehow.” She shrugged, now lifting a hand to warm it by the fire while the other held her fur in place so she wouldn’t reveal herself. “He prefers his meat well done.” The princess teased lightly, only for Sigefrid to sternly furrow his brows and ever so slightly cock his head to the side out of concern. At first he was unable to see the humor behind it, but as moments passed he began to lighten up. 

Eventually, the corners of his lips cracked into a bright, toothy smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle after realizing that she was, in her own way, just as crazy as he was. 

“I…” Sigefrid sighed, shaking his head in defeat as his arms dangled between his knees. “I underestimated you. You are clever, Lady.” 

After finding a sense of comfort within his soothing words, she simply nodded into the fire, “I am resourceful,” whilst mindlessly sliding the knife towards Sigefrid by its handle. “Take it. I no longer have use for Erik’s knife.” She couldn’t help but bite her tongue, knowing her emphasis on his brother’s name would likely cause trouble between them. Perhaps, even jealousy.

“Erik’s? How did you get my brother’s knife, thief?” Sigefrid roared like a mighty brown bear standing tall on his feet, all whilst nearly knocking the bench, and the princess sitting upon it, over out of anger. He found himself, now, towering menacingly over the princess. Sigefrid’s dark, piercing eyes searched her face for any signs of untruthfulness yet deep down inside, he knew better than to not believe her. 

She felt as if her heart had been startled back to life, almost as if struck by a high voltage of electricity. His sudden outburst sent her entire body into a numb, temporary state of shock. Any regained color in her cheeks had been drained out of fear for what he intended to do to her. 

Sigefrid inhaled and exhaled sharply through flared nostrils, scowling down at himself for acting so irrationally towards King Alfred’s daughter.

“How did you get his knife?” He slowly reiterated in a calmer, more civil manner before taking a courteous step backwards to distance himself.

“Well… when an opportunity unfolds before you like a blooming wildflower ripe for picking… you do just that. Pick it.” She narrowed her eyes and smirked wickedly. “And I am not a thief. Unlike you, I have never stolen-”

“Say what you must, Lady.” Sigefrid groaned impatiently, running a calloused hand over his reddened, sleep-deprived eyes. “Go on.”

“Erik gave it to me himself. It was wrapped in the fur pelt,” She flapped her elbows beneath said pelt, which remained draped over her shoulders. “The one he placed inside the cage.” She chuckled lightly, though found herself wincing at her shoulder.

“What I do not understand…” Sigefrid paused, crossing his muscular arms over his toned, exposed chest sprinkled with faded scars. He now found himself sitting closer beside her on the bench, conscious of the remaining space between them. “Why would Erik do that?” 

The princess carefully shrugged. “Your brother knew I would surely make use of it. Whether on him, my guard, or… you.” She slowly cast her gaze towards the Dane through glossy lenses. Shaking her head with a frown, she shamefully looked down at her lap. “But I-I could not have killed you. Even if I wanted to. I have every reason to, but… I can not will it.”

“And if it is not by the will of the Gods,” He quirked an eyebrow, “then it was not meant to be.” She suddenly felt the warmth of his calloused hand caressing the side of her cheek, guiding her to face him once more. She traced small circles atop his rough knuckles and closed her eyes. 

Sigefrid Thurgilson seemed unable to stop himself from rambling like a love struck boy, “I believe the gods intended for us to meet. I wish… under better circumstances.” 

To Sigefrid’s surprise, he could feel her nodding along beneath his hand. “Your gods deserve my thanks, for they have nearly saved me from marrying a stranger. They have prolonged the inevitable; given me a few final days as a… somewhat free woman.” She sighed, gently removing his hand from her cheek though it remained within her grasp. 

Sigefrid watched her every move through sparkling eyes with such awe.

Changing the subject, for better or for worse, the princess confessed, “The knife was likely to pick the lock. You have nothing to worry about, Lord.”

“Yet, you killed a man with it.” He sighed and narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her every last word. “To get the key.”

“I did not need the key. Killing him was not my intention, truly… but he made it very easy.”

“You better start making sense, woman.” He growled as she witnessed his short temper, once more, getting the best of him. The scorching influx of pain from his cauterized hand likely contributed to his hot-headed irritableness.

One thing was for certain: It doesn’t take much to get on Sigefrid’s bad side.

Slamming her hand down on the bench between them, Lady Blædswith leaned forward and growled, “He opened the cage himself, with the bloody key, because he intended to rape me. Is that what you want to hear, Lord? How your brother saved my life, and that a man you so ‘trusted’ to protect me nearly got away with such an act?” She leaned in close to the dark haired Dane, “Ohh,” She chuckled bitterly and bore her fiery gaze into his now softening, brown eyes, “How it must burn knowing he nearly humped me before you could!”

Scowling down at himself, Sigefrid muttered, “He...he was not thinking...”

She scoffed, “There does not seem to be much of that around here, Sigefrid!” Wrapping both arms around her stomach beneath the pelt, she leaned back on her tailbone and took a deep, calming breath. With the shake of her head, her body seemed to melt to the bench beneath his gaze. “I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you-”

“Lady.” Sigefrid suddenly interrupted. “I should have been there. Not him. Me.” He pressed his thumb firmly into his chest. “I am the one who brought you here. You are mine. It will not happen again.” He leaned closer to her and placed a warm hand upon her tender shoulder, mumbling rather darkly through gritted teeth,“I swear it.”

“I believe you.” She replied softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she shyly looked down upon their hands - which seemed to fit perfectly together like the long lost pieces of a puzzle. “Do not make me regret doing so.”

“You will not regret it, Lady.” Sigefrid nodded to himself and repeated firmly. “You... will… not.” Sigefrid gently gave her shoulder a squeeze, causing the princess to wince in pain. Immediately removing his hand, he sighed and muttered. “Right, right. I apologize...”

“I never thought I would live to see the day when I asked a Dane for help, but...” Lady Blædswith shimmied the pelt down to her waist, turning to show him the open wound on the back side of her shoulder where she couldn’t quite reach. 

Sigefrid, understanding what she had asked of him, furrowed his brows and ran a quick tongue over his thin, pursed lips. Though he was apprehensive of causing her further pain, Sigefrid knew it needed to be done in order to save her most valuable life. 

He had no problem inflicting pain on others, but her? It was almost unimaginable. Almost.

After all, as Lady Blædswith put it: what good is a dead princess?

“I will do it...” The Dane nodded, causing her to frown when he set Erik’s knife aside, and away from the fire. “...and I will be careful. You tended to my hand,” Sigefrid drew out slowly and lifted his hand-blade ever so slightly, “so I shall do the same, for you. I do not wish death upon you, Lady.”

“I do not wish death upon myself, either.” She teased, cracking an unusually wide smile that seemed to hatch butterflies within the Dane’s stomach. Unmistakably, she could feel the warmth of her flushed cheeks beneath his tender gaze. 

The two stared into each other’s eyes as if longing for something greater; something mutually forbidden and seemingly unattainable. It was a brief moment, rarely even shared between wedded lovers. There they sat, enjoying the sound of the crackling fire and the comfort of each others’ presence. They were finally alone, with no Danes to judge them nor intrude on their subtle intimacies.

There was a comfortable silence between Saxon and Dane that just felt… right. And for the first time, the princess was able to admit to herself that she felt safe and out of harm’s way, though couldn’t help but wonder why he had rid of Erik’s knife...

It had pained Sigefrid, seeing the woman he had grown to admire in such discomfort and disarray. He yearned to rid her of her inner demons and the burdens she carried upon her aching shoulders. To see her restored to her fullest potential, fighting alongside him as the shield maiden she was born to be - now that would bring an everlasting smile to his face.

The two couldn’t be more different, yet they both wanted the same thing. They were opposite forces of nature capable of destroying the other, no different than fire and water. 

She watched as Sigefrid rose to his feet, now passing by her hunched over form.

“You said I was ‘yours’. Did you mean that?”

“Yes.” He mumbled bluntly. “I did. I still do.” Sigefrid nodded subtly before instructing her to stand up, and reposition herself so that she was facing the main doors with the fire burning on her right. There she sat, anxiously waiting for his next cue, as she straddled the bench between her jittery legs and began tapping her toes against the wooden floorboards. 

Looking down at her lap as Sigefrid’s shadow was cast upon the wall opposite of the fire, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he paced around the hall rolling up his sleeves and repeatedly, anxiously, stroking his beard.

What if I go too far? What if it kills her?

“And you still intend to give away ‘what is yours’ to my father?” She dared to ask, looking up as Sigefrid neared the bench once more after he’d convinced himself to cauterize her wound, therefore inflicting an excruciating pain onto someone who’d endured so much already.

“I… have no choice, Lady” He pouted, taking a close seat behind her on the bench. Carefully, he dipped his hand-blade into the fire. His left hand gently gathered handfuls of her soft, dark curls that draped down her back, and brought the lengths of her mane to the left side of her neck, out of his way. 

As chills ran down her spine - quite literally - she peered over her shoulder at him and whispered, “That is a lie even you do not believe.” 

Sigefrid exhaled slowly and brought his body closer to hers, slithering his hand past her waist from behind, now gently resting palm up on her thigh. 

Filling the gap between their bodies, between their hips, Lady Blædswith pushed herself backwards until her shoulder blades bumped into his bare chest. She could feel his warm, seductive breath down her neck, though she couldn’t help but feel self conscious around him in her current state of filth.

“How can you stand to be this close to me?” Sheepishly, she took Sigefrid’s calloused hand between her own and gave it a squeeze. “I am a filthy, broken, hideously burnt… sorry excuse for a princess.”

“We are not so different, Lady. My hand was cauterized, not unlike your shoulder. I, too, am ‘hideously burnt.’” He teased lightly, though not without grinning ever down at himself. “Life will go on.” After receiving a sigh and nod of approval from a very grateful princess, Sigefrid lifted his glowing, sweltering hand-blade from the fire. He could feel her hands beginning to tighten around his like a boa constrictor, although he hadn’t yet touched blade to skin. 

“This is the only way.” She hummed. “I trust you.”

And with that, the scorching blade of metal was forever branded into her skin, serving as a permanent reminder of how the Lord of Chaos, Sigefrid Thurgilson, saved her life once more.

Her blood curdling cries echoed throughout the hall undoubtedly waking everyone in earshot. 

After what seemed like an eternity of suffrage, Sigefrid unbuckled his hand-blade contraption and tossed it to the floor, before allowing Lady Blædswith to fall back against his chest - one that was panting heavily and sticky with sweat. Sigefrid wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to his heart as she waited for the pain to go away, and her rapid heartbeat to steady.

With heavy arms draped over his, she gently began to interlock their fingers. Sigefrid, well aware of her affections, leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

Wiping away new fallen tears with the backs of her knuckles, Lady Blædswith spoke softly, “Thank you.” she then sniffled, “You have done more for me than any man ever has.” Slowly reaching forward as goosebumps and the hairs on her arms began to raise, she pulled her pelt to her chest. With Sigefrid’s careful aid, in a matter of minutes, she was back on her wobbly feet.  

“H-how can you look at me like that?” She wept quietly, burrowing her face within the fur.

“Like what?” Sigefrid, teasingly, hummed and tilted his head to the side as she swayed before him. “You are a beautiful woman. Is it wrong, for a man, to stare?” Sigefrid, whilst still supporting her weight, moved closer to face her. “You have not seen what I have. You are a shield maiden like no other. Your grace; your beauty. It is all still there.”

“How can you tell?” She whimpered, shaking her head in disagreement, as flattering as his words were. “Look at me!” She violently grabbed a fistful of tangled hair. “I-I look as if I belong on a slave ship, o-or amongst the livestock!”

“You are wrong.” Sigefrid challenged with a smirk, chuckling in response to the naive Saxon. “You will see, soon enough, what I have seen all along.” Sigefrid guided her back to the bench, where she willingly took a seat. He motioned for her to wait there, patiently, for his return. “Do not move.”

“Where would I go?” She muttered sarcastically.

When Sigefrid returned, accompanied by three heavily armored guards and a frightened slave girl trailing close behind, the princess immediately stood up, defensively, eyeing around for the nearest weapon-like object.

“W-what is this?” She stammered nervously, watching as the menacing Danes, whom Sigefrid had alleviated from their nightly duties, surrounded her on three sides. “Sigefrid?” Frightened, she could feel her voice waver as she realized she was sorely outnumbered. Sigefrid had the power and resources to do whatever cruelties he wanted to her, yet he lacked the will.

“Shh. You talk too much.” He grinned from ear to ear, then focused his attention to the surrounding Danes.

“I want her bathed, fed and watered.” Sigefrid ordered, receiving definitive nods from those he’d chosen. “Nothing is to happen to her. Understood?” He glared from Dane to Dane, narrowing his eyes at the familiar slave girl before addressing the princess’s escorts once more. “Do not disappoint me.” He warned sternly, emphasizing the grave importance of keeping the king’s daughter out of harm’s way, seeing as he failed to do so once already. 

With a tight, supporting hand clutched to either of her elbows, she was practically carried through the main doors, unable to see past the towering Danes to where Sigefrid stood. He chose to remain inside, not wanting to overstep his bounds, and shortly after was accompanied by his sleep-deprived brother, Erik. 

Once the doors closed behind them, and the princess was out of sight, Sigefrid sighed in relief knowing she was to be taken care of. He would rather have her bathing in the lake, now, during this unusually cold night, then under the morning sun where all eyes would undoubtedly be on her bare figure. 

When the time was right, mutually, Sigefrid was to be the first and only Dane to lay eyes on her nakedness. Sigefrid believed her to be a gift sent to him from the gods, one he wasn’t too keen on sharing. Her purpose was not to be ravished and disposed of like a common whore, but loved and cherished; worshipped, even, like the goddess Sigefrid saw her to be.

“You care for her.” Erik grinned softly, placing a hand on Sigefrid’s shoulder as they stood staring aimlessly at the closed doors. 

“I do.” Sigefrid was hesitant, though accepted that he couldn’t lie to himself, much less his own brother. “The gods have played a sick game.” Sigefrid growled, walking away from his brother as the nearest fire tempted him closer. Erik, knowing better than to leave his troubled brother’s side, followed in his footsteps and sat beside him, rubbing his hands together over the dimming flames. 

“What will you do about Alfred?” Erik asked, pressing his elbows into his knees for support as he leaned forward. “You made a great promise.” Erik eyed his brother sympathetically. “Do you intend to keep it?”

Sigefrid sighed, and rested his drowsy face within his palm, “I do not know what to do. I grow more fond of her by the hour.” He admitted gravely, now teasing his bottom lip between his sharp teeth. 

“What do you truly want, brother?”

“You know what I want.” Sigefrid snarled with a distasteful glare, almost offended that Erik didn’t know him better by now. “The leaves have already fallen. I need her ransom paid in full by winter’s end. An army by spring.”

“And a king’s crown by summer.” Erik chimed in, recalling the conversation they last had. “Are you sure of this?”

Sigefrid narrowed his brows and raised his arms slightly. “Sure of what?”

“That you are ready to let her go?” Erik, trying his best to comfort his eldest brother, could see the look of hurt upon his face, therefore in his heart. 

Sigefrid closed his eyes, now fighting a bit harder to stay awake. “I am not ready. I will never be ready... to let her go. I will think of her every night in my sleep. I will see her face in every woman, Dane and Saxon. She is both.” Now staring into the flames, as his beloved princess once had, he tried to imagine the rest of his life without her. 

No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t. 

“I will never be ready.” He grumbled to himself once more, turning to face his kind-eyed brother before standing up, reaching into his pocket, and retrieving Erik’s knife. Holding it out for him to take, Sigefrid spoke in a low, hurt tone, “I do not blame you.” Before retreating upstairs where he would impatiently wait for Lady Blædswith’s return. 

Erik, twirling the stained knife between his fingers, could feel guilt gnawing at his insides. Sigefrid knew he didn’t trust him around King Alfred’s daughter, and that the knife was Erik’s way of looking out for her. Erik realized, now, that he no longer had to do so. 

She was more valuable to Sigefrid than any amount of the king’s riches, regardless of the cold front Sigefrid put up. Judging by the way Sigefrid has already treated her, Erik knew his brother would do everything in his power to ensure her safety. Everything. 

Even if it meant turning against his own people.

____________________ ➴  ____________________

The night air was crisp and unforgiving. The moon, in its fullest bloom, illuminated their way through the darkness. Venturing down a steep, well worn path towards the shore, the princess aimlessly followed the glow of a single torch like a moth drawn to candlelight.

The trio of Danes waited atop a low, grassy hill, allowing the timid slave girl to lead Sigefrid’s pet the rest of the way down. Compliant to their Lord’s orders, the men turned their backs whilst the king’s daughter undressed, though not without sneaking quick glances over their shoulders with wirey, toothless grins.

Once the slave girl had staked the torch into the damp earth near the water’s edge, creating a dimly lit aura of light around them, she apprehensively stepped towards the shivering Saxon. Her hand, as it reached out to take Lady Blædswith’s fur pelt, trembled out of fear of mistreatment from her Lord. She was, very obviously, under tremendous pressure to please him. Her small, childlike hands were even dirtier and more bruised than the princess’s own. 

With her arms folded tightly against her breasts, the princess tiptoed into the cold lake water, feeling it seep into the soles of her feet, then up her calves as she waded on. A light mist sprinkled on the tops of their heads, and a deceitful breeze often toyed with the princess’s remaining warmth.

Her arms were rough with prickly goosebumps as she descended beyond the shadowy waters, clenching her jaw and fists tightly as her teeth began to chatter like rattling bones. She began to adjust, very uncomfortably, to the lake’s frigid temperature. 

There had been no words exchanged between princess and slave — for there was nothing to say. Lady Blædswith’s hot breath, like a dragon’s own, escaped through her chapped lips as did steam rising from her core.

The slave girl, fully clothed yet up to her shoulders alongside her, had dunked a piece of cloth and a metal bucket beneath the water. “I-it is time for me to bathe you, princess. Before we both freeze.” She practically whispered through a thick, Scottish accent that didn’t go unnoticed. 

It had pleasantly reminded Lady Blædswith of a certain Irishman back home. 

Sigefrid’s slave averted her gaze from Alfred’s daughter out of respect; out of fear, even. Lady Blædswith noticed this, and frowned before closing the distance between them. The young, blonde haired girl began to wash the princess’s lovely figure, mindful of her various bruises and fractured bones.

“You need not fear me.” She soothed motherly, feeling chills ripple through her entire body as the breeze began to pick up. “I will not let anything happen to you... as long as I am here. You have my word.” The blonde looked up at the Saxon, eyes sparkling with tears though her lips curled into a tight smile.

“T-thank you, Lady.” She humbly nodded, now tilting the princess’s head back before pouring a bucket of fresh water over her thick, curly locks. With their backs to the entirety of Beamfleot, Lady Blædswith couldn’t help but gaze into the distance, watching ripples along the water’s surface reflect the moon’s vibrant rays. 

The bashful, fair-completed princess

smiled. “You may call me Blædswith. What is your name?” She asked the beautiful slave out of curiosity, and by the surprised look on her face, she was the first person in a long time to ask such a thing. The girl hesitated, almost as if struggling to recall what she had once gone by, rather than the cruel insults she was called on a daily basis.

“My name is Moira, Lady.” She then squeezed her eyes shut and corrected, “Blædswith.” She hummed as she worked her way around the princess’s grotesque, multicolored torso. “I have not been asked that in some time…”

“Tell me, Moira... what is Sigefrid like? You have certainly known him longer than I have.” Blædswith grinned as Moira began to scrub the dirt from her hands and face. Though reluctant, Moira felt the princess deserved to know the truth, seeing as her Lord had taken a particular liking to her in light of recent events.

“Lord Sigefrid is… an ambitious man.” She shook her head grimly. “He gets what he wants, n-no matter the cost.” Moira sighed to herself, almost shamefully. “If I am being honest…”

“Please, do.”

“He does not think with his head. That is what Erik is for.” She tapped a finger to her own scalp. “He thinks with his cock. Well, he did… until he found you. Now I’d say things are different.” Moira rang out the cloth and used it to gently dry the princess’s face. “It is no secret how he feels about you, Lady.”

“He has been rather kind to me. I even sat bare chested before him and he did not touch me. Perhaps he does not wish to.” She shrugged.

Moira couldn’t help but grin. “I can assure you, he would very much like to. Any man with eyes would.” She then rubbed down the princess’s chest, adding, “After all, you are Alfred’s daughter.”

“Sweet Moira.” Blædswith chirped and brushed a loose curl from the slave’s face. “What... if I were to live here? You could tend to me, only, and I would care for you.” She could see herself and Moira living together almost as sisters, if not like mother and child - despite her being a slave. She felt drawn to protect such an innocent soul who, despite being sold into slavery, seemed nothing but kind and gentle. “I would protect you.”

Caught off guard, Moira nearly burst into tears of joy, turning away before Blædswith could notice. “I… I would be grateful to serve you, Lady of Wessex.” She then looked up at Blædswith with a slight frown, “Or, would you be Lady of Beamfleot?”

“I would simply be Blædswith. No titles, if I could help it.” She shrugged, and once her shoulder and the rest of her body had been washed ever so carefully, Blædswith was instructed to stay in the water whilst Moira retrieved her fur. “Do not be long!” She called after Moira light-heartedly, having thoroughly enjoyed her company thus far and did not wish to go without it. 

Aside from the Thurgilson brothers, this poor slave was all she had. 

As Blædswith mindlessly overturned rocks with her toes and sliced through the still lake water with her hands, she’d become one with nature’s tranquility in waiting for Moira’s return. 

“Sorry for the wait, Blædswith.” A distant voice rang out from beyond the darkness, though Moira was not yet visible. “Dagfinn hid your pelt in the bushes hoping to see you na-”

Moira had stopped dead in her tracks, her vibrant blue eyes wide with sheer terror as she dropped the pelt at her feet. A thick, crimson stream oozed down her mouth as she began to gurgle and choke on her own blood. Before Blædswith could react fast enough, or at all, Moira’s eyes rolled back into her head as her knees gave way, causing her body to limply topple over, revealing Hæsten with a bloodied dagger in hand and a devilish glint in his khol-smeared eyes. 

“Princess.” The Dane greeted wickedly with a haughty, half-assed bow.

As he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, seeming unable to stand completely still due to the excessive horns of ale he’d downed, he let out a low chuckle before walking across Moira’s body like a bridge, wiping his muddied boots against her back. Blædswith could hear the crunching of her frail bones beneath his heavy boots.

“No!” Blædswith wailed, immediately back stroking to distance herself from the drunken Dane who began stumbling towards her. As much as it pained her to do so, her arms began flailing in and out of the water in a panic. “Y-you bastard! She was just a girl!” Blædswith shrieked, unable to stop herself from hyperventilating as she swam further and further away from shore out of fear he would try to drown her, or worse. 

Hæsten could see she was very naked, and very much afraid. “Ah yes. But she was a girl you cared for.” Hæsten then placed the tip of his dagger to his lips as if telling Blædswith to hush; as if saying “there is no point in screaming when nobody will hear you.”

As loud as she physically could, Blædswith began calling out for help; for her designated guards to defend her against such a creature bearing ill intentions. 

They were nowhere to be found.

“You will freeze to death, princess.” Hæsten began walking along the water, now up to his ankles. “You can not stay out there forever.” He began to twirl the dagger between his fingers before wiping the remaining blood on his sleeve. “What a shame.” The blonde Dane looked over his shoulder at the crumpled body he’d slain. “She was a good hump.”

“Sigefrid!” Blædswith cried once more, “Sigefrid! Erik! Please! H-hear me!” The princess realized she’d swam out far enough that her toes no longer touched the bottom - they were not even close - therefore her voice would likely never penetrate Beamfleot’s walls.

“Sigefrid can not hear you. He is busy planning how to sell you back to Alfred.” Hæsten sneared, “And he has decided not to give me any of the silver.” His tone was rather accusatory as if she were to blame. “And do not forget; you humiliated me.” He proceeded to near the princess, the water now up to the soaked knees of his trousers.

“Hæsten. Sigefrid will never forgive you.” She warned breathlessly, feeling the cold waters numb her tender arms and legs. Her bruised, aching lungs felt impossibly heavier as she fought to keep her head above water. “Please,” she gasped, spitting out a mouthful of lake water. “Don’t. If this is about silver, I-I have plenty in Wessex.”

“I do not want your silver, nor Sigefrid’s forgiveness. I want you to suffer for what you did to me. You ruined me, woman!” Hæsten roared drunkenly, nearly falling over on his arse though he regained his composure.

“Anybody! Help!” She wept, forcing her body to stay afloat as long as she could.“Sigefrid…” Completely winded and moments away from slipping into the night, her voice had fallen to a mere whisper at the acceptance of her fate. 

If she were to die tonight, it would not be at Hæsten’s hand. She would not grant him such pleasure; the satisfaction in knowing he’d gotten what he wanted. If anything, it would be the water’s icy depths that would take her to the great beyond — The Great Hall of Valhalla.

She could feel a dark shadow cast from above, as if the moon itself had already shut her out. 

“S-Sigefrid I… I’m not ready…”

There was a large splash in the near distance. An eruption of violent yelling rang out in the night, as did the sounds of metal clashing upon metal. Though muffled, she could make out the loud, rhythmic grunting of someone swimming towards her. A pair of strong arms hoisted her above the water, throwing her good arm over their shoulders as they proceeded to swim her back to shore.

“S-Sigefrid!” Blædswith, once conscious, gasped as she recognized the dark haired Dane who so valiantly came to her rescue. “Sigefrid you heard me…” She slurred out of shock and disbelief. After swimming them to shore, he carried her out of the water and wrapped her entire body in an oversized fur.

“I did.” He nodded windedly, pulling her against his chest for comfort; his and hers. “I heard your cries, and I was there as fast as I could.” Sigefrid leaned his head back and caressed the side of her pale cheek with his hand. His sorrowful, glossy eyes scanned over her face as his voice faded to a boyish whimper. “I thought I lost you.”

Sniffling, she shook her head and burst into tears of joy; of relief, and pressed her pruny hand against his cheek with a weak smile. “I’m here, Sigefrid. I-I’m alive.” Almost instantly, she could feel her body regaining its heat, though that didn’t stop her from shivering in his grasp.

“This,” Sigefrid shook his head and panned around the scene, where four dead bodies now littered the shore. “This is all my fault.” He then gritted his teeth and cursed at himself beneath his breath. “I let you down. I did not protect you, I,” He paused to run his hand over his beard. “I can no longer trust anyone…”

“Sigefrid, please.” She placed a calming hand to his chest, now standing on her toes to look him in the eye. “This is not your fault. But if it must be, then I forgive you.”

“How?” Sigefrid himself began to fight back tears of his own. “How can you forgive me? Tell me. I am not worthy of your-”

Blædswith cupped the back of Sigefrid’s neck and crashed her lips onto his unexpectedly, smiling into it as Sigefrid hungrily kissed back. She could feel the sweetness of passion; a million loving thoughts condensed into a single moment. Sigefrid and Blædswith were undeniably their most vulnerable selves.

It was as if time had collapsed into one tiny speck, then exploded at the speed of light. Her universe began and ended with him. As they embraced once another, the world - Midgard - seemed to halt on its axis. There was no time, wind, nor rain. There was no fear of what their futures entailed; no physical pain nor sorrows. 

Lady Blædswith was, truly, at peace. 

She did not worry about what this would mean for them; A fearsome northman had fallen for the Saxon daughter of his sworn enemy, and a princess had fallen in love with the Dane who kidnapped her. This would not be something either side takes lightly.

Sigefrid supported her lower back with his arm as she leaned against his bare chest. When their lips parted Blædswith whispered breathlessly, 

“You talk too much.” 

Sigefrid leaned down and placed a soft, prickly-bearded kiss to her lips once more as he tangled his hand through her wet hair. 

He then whispered in her ear with a growing smirk, placing a hot kiss to the side of her neck as his thumb moved to cares her throat.

“I thought that was my line.”

_______________________________________________

A/N: I Hope you all enjoyed this longer chapter! If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, let me know :)

TAGS: @inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat

enough | kylo ren

word count: 1,521

warnings: yelling, harassment, negativity, sexual tension, sexual innuendos

a/n: hello everyone! this is a request from @blue-automne .. i hope this is what you pictured! enjoyyyyyy :)) 

summary: you are called into an emergency meeting with the council in order to discuss the outcome of your recent mission. however, things heat up, leaving you alone to defend yourself. the commander steps in, defending you. 

the echo of your footsteps were silent as you shuffled down the hall, your head hung low. your breathing quickened as you approached the entrance of the council room, heart thudding wildly in your chest. it was well past six o’clock, but the council still requested your presence. as your fingertips met with the door, you swallowed the lump in your throat.

eyes fell on you as you entered the frigid room, goosebumps rising on your skin underneath the fabric of your clothing. hushed voices fell away, fading from your ears. general armitage hux cleared his throat, ushering you to a seat. he said nothing. no greeting. no orders. a harsh, silent treatment. your heart fell to your stomach once you noticed his figure; an ink black shadow, poised across from you. 

a cold sweat clammed your hands as you fidgeting with a loose string on your tunic, toying with the thread between your fingers. you were careful not to stare at anyone sitting around you, your eyes trained on the cool marble table. your mind raced, pondering all of the horrible possibilities of what was to be done with you. 

as the first order’s treasured pilot, you excelled in the sky. your ties with the first order began when you were seventeen, during a siege of a planet. if you offered work, then you were spared your life. since your dad was a pilot, flying came effortless to you. from there, it was history. potentially, you were the first order’s most valuable possession. their most sacred treasure. 

your aim in an aircraft was extraordinary. the pressure never cracked you either. there could be explosions all around, shaking you to the core, but you were still able to fire down armadas of enemies. to say that you held a reputation was an understatement. at the mention of your name, wookies, twi’leks, and so many more shivered. not only were you an out of this world pilot, but your ability to kill so effortlessly gave you an edge.

“ms. (l/n),” hux’s tone was cool, “are you aware of why we enacted an emergency council meeting?”

“i’m sorry!” the words tumbled out of your mouth, a desperate beg. multiple council members tsked, shaking their heads in disappointment. 

hux arched a brow, yet continued, “it was brought to our attention from the transmissions that your mission proved to be unsuccessful.” 

“a failure,” a lieutenant muttered in disdain. 

you bowed your head, shame rising within you, “it wasn’t my fault. the target jumped to hyper space before i could fire.” 

“you couldn’t fire a second earlier?” hux challenged. 

the shame only intensified, your cheeks burning a bright pink. tears welled up in your eyes. this was your first failed mission. what did that say about your reputation? your position in the ranks? 

“how intriguing,” captain phasma sneered, “so talkative yet so quiet when faced with the consequences.” 

“enough,” his voice was deep, modulated by the mask. 

“but commander,” hux protested, eyes widened, “(y/n) deserves a punishment for her-“ 

“that’s enough,” kylo ren repeated, his tone authoritative, “i will not tolerate any more harassment directed towards her.” 

“harassment?” captain phasma choked, “we were simply commenting on the mission.” 

“ENOUGH!” kylo snarled, slamming just hands on the table. it vibrated beneath everyone, creating a shiver of fear to run through the councilmen. the commander seethed, waves of anger radiating off him, “everyone but (y/n) leave. we’re done here.”

with no hesitations, the councilmen, generals, hux, and captain phasma rose from their seat, scurrying out of the room. you sucked in a breath as kylo’s eyes penetrated into you. fidgeting in your seat, you bit your lip, eyes desperate to avoid his hard gaze. kylo stood, smoothing out his cowl. he strolled over to you, taking a seat directly to your right. 

“i’m not angry with you,” kylo’s voice was quiet. gentle. 

“are you sure?” you mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“we’re only human,” he tilted his head, almost like a shrug, “we’re bound to make mistakes.” 

“i’m sorry,” the words left your mouth in a whisper, “i had no intentions of failing the mission, commander.” 

“it’s kylo,” he murmured, voice resonating within his mask, “you may call me kylo.”

tears sprang into your eyelids. the kindness coming from kylo was overwhelming after you were just assaulted with harsh remarks, “i failed the mission and i shouldn’t have.”

kylo let out a sigh, “you have no need to keep apologizing angel.”

angel. the nickname rang through your thoughts, sweet like honey. you could feel kylo smirking at you as you blushed immensely, fidgeting with your hands as you formulated some sort of response. you remained speechless for about thirty seconds before kylo spoke once more. 

“if you apologize one more time, i may have to hush those pretty lips of yours.”

“thank you for defending me,” you could barely string together your words. 

“it wasn’t their place to harass you like that,” he muttered darkly, “you didn’t deserve any of that. i am ashamed of them. they act as if every single individual on this ship has never made a mistake. even if we are elite warriors, we still have the potential to make mistakes. general hux manages to fumble with simple duties.”

“you’re too kind,” you felt a small smile form. 

a gloved hand grazed your cheek, kylo’s thumb wiping away a tear, “i have quite the soft spot for a certain pilot.” 

a soft chuckle rose in your throat, the sound music to kylo’s ears as it echoed off the walls. for some time, the commander of the first order kept a close watch over you, admiring from a distance. ever since he laid eyes on you, kylo was aware that you were the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. the fact that you were an established pilot only fueled his attraction to you. your confidence, along with your passion, made you desirable. also, kylo admired your loyalty, strength, as well as leadership. 

“i find the commander quite handsome as well,” you flirted, beaming innocently, “although, that mask makes gazing wistfully at him quite difficult.”

your statement reigned true. ever since your arrival on the supremacy, you were drawn to the mysterious and brooding commander. often, you would volunteer for night patrols, hoping that you would at least catch one glimpse of him as you patrolled the corridors. sometimes you would pass one another, your mind screaming at you to not stare for too long. kylo ren was a powerful man, his authority and brute strength causing the strongest of warriors to bow before him. your curiosity for him only grew at every encounter, your heart skipping a beat every time you heard his voice. it went without a doubt that you carried a crush for the commander, masking it poorly as he sat before you. 

it was only a matter of seconds before kylo pressed a button, the mask whirring and clicking as his features emerged from the metal. a tiny gasp escaped your mouth as kylo’s eyes met yours, shining a rich mocha hue. freckles dotted his pale skin, his cheekbones high and jawline prominent. he ran a hand through his raven black locks, his hair messy from the mask. 

“does this make it any easier?” kylo chuckled, his aura shifting to amusement as you gawked at him for the second time that evening, speechless from his bold words. 

you nodded quickly, “yes, very much so.” 

the commander gave you a smug smile, “i can sense that you’re apprehensive. are you afraid of me?”

“you’re just so handsome,” you breathed. 

“and you’re quite beautiful,” kylo mused, his face only a few inches away from yours as he took in your own beauty, “you are so beautiful (y/n). i wish i could show you how i feel about you.”

“show me then,” you countered. 

kylo rolled his eyes playfully, leaning in, “as you wish.”

his lips met yours, intoxicating you with just his touch. kylo kissed you passionately, holding your cheeks in his gloved hands as his tongue roamed your mouth, tasting you. you melted, adrenaline buzzing through you from your head to your toes. his need for you intensified, pulling you closer to him. teeth gnashed against teeth, kylo’s suppressed emotions spilling from his lips. he sucked on your bottom lip harshly, earning a quiet, melodic moan from you. he pulled away, panting as your tips tingled from the kiss. 

“i like the way your lips taste,” kylo hummed, licking his lips. 

“taste them again,” you taunted, only fueling kylo’s desire for you. 

he ached to touch you once again. to hold your face in his hands as he kissed you. to feel the softness of your lips against his. his mind wandered, lustful fantasies creating a buzz in his thoughts. kylo shook his head, in vain attempts to regain composure. yet, lust overtook him. he stood, taking your hand. without warning, he scooped you into his arms, earning a yelp of surprise.

“oh i will,” kylo teased, “i’ll taste more than just your lips angel.”

In the Bond-Chapter 22

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,200

Warnings: Blood

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13  

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter   Next Chapter  

Read on AO3   Masterlist

Lilah might have been knocked out by the blow to the head Benny gave her, had she not been properly fortified a few hours before. She took the cue, and let herself go limp. As they bound her in handcuffs, she broadcasted across the bond that she’d been taken. There was no response. Not the unholy fire of his rage. Not a reassuring ‘I’m on my way.’ Nothing. Lilah couldn’t even feel the bond activate.

Subtly flexing her wrists, Lilah rolled to her side in the back of the van, trying hard not to grunt as they sped over uneven ground. Straining her left arm and every muscle of her neck, Lilah eyed the cuffs they’d slapped onto her. There were symbols carved crudely into the metal. They glowed faintly in the dim light, sending little shimmering reflections onto the skin of her wrists and forearms. She glared at them, wondering what kind of magic had been put into the cuffs.

Lilah had little time to contemplate it. The van skid to a stop in complete darkness, she could discern nothing through the windows on either side.  Forcing herself to relax in the restraints, Lilah listened as the van door slid open and closed. The back doors swung open and hands grabbed at her, throwing her over a shoulder. Arms hanging awkwardly behind her, Lilah was carried through an opening in a rock face and down into a small cavern lit with a few lanterns scattered through the space.  

They dropped her onto a platform, giving her as much attention as a forgotten suitcase. She tried to listen to their conversation, but the lowered whispers were cut short. Benny walked in, and though she couldn’t see him, she could certainly discern that he was gloating—mainly because he didn’t shut the fuck up about it. For at least five minutes, Lilah listened to him talk about having captured Brasa’s bondmate, having infiltrated his lair, having beaten an enemy.

In an effort to save her sanity, Lilah wiggled to an upright position, fixing the entire room with a glare. There were four of them standing in a group, Benny not far away. Three men. One woman. And Benny. She eyed them, her lip curling when she recognized Naya among them. The woman was avoiding her gaze. Good.

“You gonna let me out of these?” She taunted, shrugging her arms forward to indicate the cuffs.

Taunting was a risky strategy, but Lilah felt comfortable pushing buttons. Rather, she was annoyed enough that pushing buttons came as naturally to her as breathing.

Benny smiled. It wasn’t nice, “Not just yet.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Scared I’ll make a stunning escape?”

He laughed, stepping towards her and kneeling, “Those cuffs are covered in Xibalban magic. Keeps you from telling you lover where you are. Not yet, at least.”

Well, that confirmed why she couldn’t reach Brasa. She’d have to try another tactic.

“You need him to open the portal, don’t you? You’ve tried twice now without his heart, and you can’t fucking do it.”

Benny’s mouth thinned, and Lilah sensed his anger spike. She also sensed that she’d missed the mark, but couldn’t quite figure out why. He rose and returned to the group, asking one of them to go out and get the bags from the van. She watched Benny amble to a large circular indention in the cave wall. He touched it reverently. That had to be the portal.

Looking over his shoulder at her Benny asked congenially, “Do you know how I found you? All tucked away underground?”

Lilah let her expression relax into apathy, choosing only to lift a brow. Let him think what he wanted about that.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. Lilah recognized the black and blue case, the cheap model making it perfect for tossing at a moment’s notice.

“If you’re going to keep tracking software on your device, you should probably take better care of them.”

Lilah allowed herself to sigh. It really didn’t matter how he’d found her. She could (and would) be angry with Seth later. She would also find a way to better encrypt their apps.

Looking disappointed at her lack of response, Benny returned the phone to his pocket and turned his attention back to the portal.  He spoke periodically to the others, hands touching here and there around the indentation. It took little to no cognitive effort to figure out that he was definitely going to make another attempt. She only hoped that this one would be as unsuccessful as the last.

Scooting to the back edge of the platform, Lilah let her shoulders sink down so that her hands fell below the stone lip. As quietly as she could, Lilah started scraping.

The guy Benny had sent out returned, loaded down. He dropped the bags in front of Benny with as much ceremony as he had done with Lilah.

“You got everything?” Benny asked, his voice quaking with eagerness.

“I did.”

Benny patted his shoulder, “Excellent. Help Naya set up.”

From the bag, they pulled—the fucking cup, knife, staff, and the god damned book. Lilah felt her jaw go slack as she tried to figure out how they’d managed to get them. They would have had to have broken into Brasa’s private office. Her angry gaze went to Naya, the only link between their groups. Lilah allowed herself the leeway to break her ‘let’s try to be diplomatic’ rule with her.  

“Now,” Benny said, looking smug, “You might be wondering how I’m going to get the heart of a Xibalban.”

She wasn’t...but now that he mentioned it…

He shot a conspiratorial look at her, “We both know that Brasa won’t give his up willingly.”

Lilah felt a strange sense of irritation that not only was he going with the villain’s monologue, he was also going to use her as bait.

She sneered, “He won’t do it for me, either.”

This was debatable.

That stupid, smug expression on Benny’s face got even more smug, “I guess its good that I don’t need him. Not anymore.”

Her stomach dropped. Evidently, he was going to put a new spin on an old cliché.

Benny touched her cheek, “Not when I have you.”

Repulsed, Lilah pulled away, “I’m not Xibalban.”

“No,” he drawled, his voice rising in song-song, “But, he’s been feeding you—he’d be stupid not to after what happened yesterday, and we both know he’s not stupid.”

Lilah swallowed, keeping quiet, anxiety crawling up her spine. She recalled every argument she and Brasa had ever had about how the bond changed her, and wondered if it had gone far enough that the heart beating in her chest would be enough to kick start the ritual.

“I know how bonding works, despite not having yet claimed my Naya—couldn’t have him know I’d sent a spy into the castle.”

God. Fucking. Damnit. They’d let her right in because Lilah had asked for diplomacy, had asked to bring more culebras to the table. Regret stirred shallowly in her belly, bubbling with acrid bile that nauseated her. Lilah set her jaw, deliberately setting the feeling aside so that she could deal with what was happening in front of her. She could feel bad about how they got here later. Now, the only goal was to get out the cave alive and (relatively) intact.

Benny watched all of these thoughts play out in her expression with self-satisfaction. She returned his gaze with a hard stare of her own. There was no helping the way her heart pounded in her chest, or the fierce rush of adrenaline in her veins. But, she could face him head on, show him that she wasn’t afraid. That, she could do.

Mouth curling, Benny rose, his attention focused on ensuring that ritual was set up for maximum efficacy. Lilah took advantage of the group’s distraction, scraping at the cuffs. She had no hope of actually breaking them open, but she might be able to disrupt the symbols enough to open the bond.

Acutely aware of any attention Lilah garnered, she kept at it. Her wrists sore, she dug further and further into the platform while pressing hard against that place in the back of her mind where the bond normally rested. Minute after minute passed, and she began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to reach out in time.

She could feel the anticipation for the start of the ritual rise in the room, the occupants moving with more purpose. There were smiles and little shared laughs, low voices talking excitedly about being able to finally finish their plan. Lilah kept having to shove down the fear with every step forward in the ritual they completed.

Those fears appeared to be unfounded. The bond exploded in her head, a starburst of flame that temporarily blinded her. Hunching over, she tried to ease the ache that bloomed in her shoulder and temples while simultaneously keeping the others in the dark about her success.

I’m here. I’m here, she repeated, hoping he could hear her over his own rage.

Where? Tell me where!

She told him. Lilah relayed that she was okay, but that she didn’t have much time.

Let me through, he demanded. All the way, Lilah.

The shake of her head was stopped with only sheer force of will, I can’t. They’re using magic. I can’t get the bond open enough.

It was then that she felt him burst into action. He would find her, and soon. Her ears rang with an inhuman, vengeful roar.

Opening her eyes, Lilah checked to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. She just barely resisted a sigh of relief.

Benny picked up the book from where he’d set it down, flipping through the pages until he found what he wanted. In his other hand, he held the staff, the glint of metal somehow ominous despite the fact that Lilah had held the thing, herself, not long ago. His voice called out in Xibalban with none of the fluency Lilah was used to hearing. The sharp, almost guttural language became sloppy and disjointed on his tongue. It worked, nonetheless.

The ground shook with growing tremors, dust kicking up. Benny raised the staff and slammed it down. The sound of it was disproportionately loud. It rang with the crunch of stone, the howl of an unfelt wind. The tremors ceased. Gingerly, Benny let go of the staff. It stood on end, glowing faintly with the same light as the cuffs.

And then his eyes turned to Lilah. He gestured to her and two of his people walked forward. They grabbed her on either side and dragged her bodily so that she could be presented to Benny. Lilah glared at him as he brandished the knife. The aged metal glinted with a fresh sharpening, the handle fitting easily in his hand.

In almost any other situation, she would be talking, trying to delay. Lilah found that the words wouldn’t come. She had nothing to say to him. There were very few options for her at this point, so late in the game, and none of them were particularly palatable.

“Release her,” Benny ordered. When Lilah’s brows came together in confusion, he continued, “I want him to know where you are. I want him to find your body as I give your heart to our new lords.”

She felt the urge to spit at him, to gloat that not only was Brasa on his way, he was ahead of schedule—hopefully fast enough to save her and slaughter them. Lilah said nothing, her hands flexing as the cuffs came off. With the increased variability in movement, she added a few more options to her small list of choices.

Benny paused with a false look of surprise, “Nothing to say?”

Lilah pretended to think, mouth screwing up to one side. Then, with as much sass as she could manage, she raised her hand and lifted a single finger.

Seth’s voice sounded over Benny’s indignant growl, If you can’t beat ‘em, piss ‘em off. Angry people make mistakes.

Lilah had definitely pissed Benny off. The knife rose above her, his arm crossing his chest, telegraphing that he was going to swipe the blade over her face in retaliation. Lilah did the only thing she could think of. The hand flipping him the bird became a closed fist and shot out to punch him as hard as she could in the groin.

The effect was as expected. Benny doubled over, which put the knife within reach. She got her hands on his wrist and dug her thumb in before her own arms were grabbed by the culebras on either side of her. Planting one foot on the ground, she yanked first towards her and down, then up and away, breaking his grip.

It was at about that time that Lilah was pulled off balance, thrown to her side. Benny backpedaled away and out of of her reach. She had the knife, though, which Lilah counted as a win. She took the inertia of the fall and kept going until she’d rolled right underneath the guy on her right. He pushed down, laying his weight on her in an attempt to keep her still. Lilah held the knife to her chest, using her legs to lift him just enough to angle the knife up until it sank into the center of his chest. Too low. She risked losing control of the blade by adjusting her grip and utilized every muscle in her core to pull up until she hit her mark.

The dust of his body hadn’t yet settled before her arms were grabbed once more by the other culebra. Lilah let her body fall slack, hanging from his grip. Then, she slammed one foot down to get enough leverage to catch his hip with her free leg. He stepped back to keep his balance, giving her room to repeat her previous technique and aim for his crotch. She missed, but he reflexively let go of her arms to protect one of his most vulnerable areas.

Lilah landed hard on her ass, drawing her hands and the knife into her chest. She stood and stumbled back until she hit the wall, her eyes frantically trying take stock of the room. Benny and his goons formed a three person wall in front of her, Naya’s nervous face blurring in the periphery. She stared them down, ready to continue fighting until Brasa got there or they cut her heart out, whichever came first. Dust and blood spotted the air, her bare feet standing on solid rock. Lilah breathed deep and prepared for whatever wold come next.

Above the pounding of her own heart, Lilah heard a roar that shook every bone in her body. She nearly fell over with the force of it. Not a moment later, Lilah was smiling with relief.

Benny shoved his compatriots towards the opening, “Go get him!”

They went.

And then he did what all cowards do. He ran, leaving Naya standing alone. Lilah took a moment to note which way he’d gone, then turned her attention to the whole reason he was able to get her here in the first place.

Baring her teeth, Lilah bit out, “You betrayed us.”

Naya lifted her head high, “You betrayed us first.”

“We gave you a home.”

“No,” Naya replied, shaking her head, “You gave us another master to obey.”

Lilah felt the anger she’d been feeling all along blossom into incredulous rage, “And you think they will be any different? Do you know what they do to culebras in Xibalba? No, don’t answer that. Answer this: Did you know that Benny would have to offer what would amount to his entire following to them in sacrifice the second the portal opens?”

At this, Naya hesitated, “That is not what he intends.”

Her eyes narrowed, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Naya’s mouth pulled down in distaste, “We aren’t opening the portal to let them through. We’re opening it so we can kill them, too.”

At this Lilah rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they might actually fall out of her head, “You can’t even beat one Xibalban, Naya. What makes you think you can kill of an entire dimension of them?”

Naya knew. She knew the plan was going to fail. There was resignation in her eyes—eyes that looked to where Benny had run. Lilah wondered how she felt about being the bondmate to such a person. She wondered if Naya had negotiated a delay because she knew what Benny was, what he could drag her into if she wasn’t careful.

Lilah watched the other woman follow Benny through an opening in the other side of the cave, wishing she had the courage to follow her and finish it. As it was, Lilah was just too tired to keep fighting. She dropped her arms to her side, but was unable to put down the knife—she wouldn’t, not until she felt safe.

He swept in with all the power and command afforded to him, bringing with him heat that fairly ignited the air. Righteous and angry, Brasa took in the empty room, the ritual tools, the bloody symbols, and Lilah. His relief was palpable, the temperature cooling almost instantly. She stood, frozen, not quite believing her eyes, not quite ready to think that it was over. But, there he was. And, here she was. Alive.

Dropping the knife, Lilah ran for him, arms around his neck, a sob on her lips. He squeezed her to him, his face buried in her hair, coffee and caramel wafting from his skin. They stood like that for a long time, bodies swaying, until the sound of an approaching car filtered through the opening.

Lilah pulled back, angling around Brasa’s wide body to peer out into the darkness. Headlights flashed, the engine cut off. Car doors opened and slammed closed, followed by arguing, angry voices. She smiled, shaking her head.

Armed, the Geckos stormed into the cave. They clocked Lilah and Brasa, noted the lack of assholes to kill, and dropped their weapons.

Seth gestured to the room, “The fuck happened here?”

Lilah shrugged, “Uh, I got kidnapped and they tried to cut out my heart to open the portal.”

He sucked his teeth, frowning, “Looks like they didn’t do that.”

“Looks like it.”

“And, how did you manage that?”

She cocked a hip, crossing her arms, “I punched Benny in the dick.”

Beside her, Brasa breathed a soft laugh, the word ‘impossible’ passing his lips as he moved to look at the symbols drawn over the closed portal.

A gloved hand touched one near the bottom, “This is incorrect.”

Standing, Brasa moved to pick up the knife she’d dropped, his free hand scooping up the cup. He stood, brandishing both with half a smile, “At least they didn’t take the ritual tools with them.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “At least.” Then, “They still got away—oh, hey, Naya was a mole.”

Brasa stilled, his dark brows coming together, “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll have Javier screen our applicants more thoroughly.”

That was it. No anger. No frustration that she’d gotten so close without them noticing. Just acceptance and a plan to keep it from happening again. Lilah envied that kind of level headed attitude. If were her—and it technically was her—Lilah would be through the roof with rage. To be fair, they both had other things to worry about and HR hiring practices was not high on the list.

Richie peered at the staff, looking down its length, “Looks like they got the party started, at least.”

“They did,” Lilah confirmed, picking the tome up off the floor, “I think having the book helped.”

Brasa set the cup and knife on the platform Lilah had been sitting on, taking the book from Lilah, “Since we’re here, I think we should go ahead and do what needs to be done.”

She eyed him, “You’re ready?”

He nodded.

From near the mouth of the cave, Seth holstered his gun, “What do we do?”

Brasa looked at him, “Keep guard. I can do the rest.”

Richie took a position near the opening Benny and Naya had run through, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. The lenses of his glasses glinted in the lantern light, his mouth thin. Lilah looked from him to his brother, saw the seriousness with which they were taking their part in this. It sobered her.

She turned to Brasa, “What do you need from me?”

He set the book aside, taking her hand and pulling her close, “I’m going to lose a lot of blood. I’ll text Javier, he has a cache for me. But, until he gets here, I’ll be...hungry. I’ll be blind with it, won’t be able to think of anything but feeding. Do you understand?”

Lilah nodded, despite not quite believing that he could be anything but the calm, determined person she’d come to know.

Brasa leaned further into her space, “Even in that state, I will know you. Only you. Keep me calm until Javier gets here.”

“I can do that,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

He searched her face, evidently finding what he was looking for. Pulling out his cell, Brasa sent off the text, then set the phone down. Then, he began to tug off his gloves. The glossy leather landed on the platform, and he immediately began to work on the cuffs of his shirt. He stripped it from his body, letting it fall to lay near his gloves. From his pocket, he pulled an oh-so-familiar knife. Lilah nearly smiled, remembering the last time she’d seen that knife. His belt,  his shoes, socks, slacks, and briefs followed, leaving him standing naked before her.

Lilah found herself looking away awkwardly, though she’d seen him laid bare over and over. From behind her, she could hear Seth rolling his eyes. Thankfully, the man kept his mouth shut. Richie, however, was not so conscientious.

“We gonna get dinner with this show?”

Brasa cast her friend a baleful look, red taking over the brown of his eyes. Saying nothing, he picked up the cup and knife, getting to work. The blade sunk into the skin of his forearm, blood falling to the vessel in a heavy pour. He let it fill until the cut began to heal, stemming the flow. Then, he dipped two fingers into the cup and began to cover Benny’s markings in his own blood, the wet sound of his paint filling the empty air.

Lilah stood to the side, both disgusted and fascinated by the way he moved. She had spent many nights watching him study the book, his eyes tracing the symbols he was now painting on the wall. He worked with the confidence of someone who had rehearsed this many times in his head, until he’d not only gone over the initial markings, but added an uncountable number of his own. When he finished, the cup was nearly empty.

Brasa opened the book and set it next to the staff, still standing on end where Benny had placed it. He faced the portal, steadying himself. In a low voice, he spoke. Long, complex sentences sounded in cadence from his lips. The rhythm was a physical thing, pounding into the ground in a way that Lilah could feel through her bare feet.

Static sizzled in the air, power building in the room as goosebumps rose on her skin. Frightened by the escalation, Lilah looked back at Seth. His attention was on Brasa, his eyes focused intently as he watched for danger. Across the room, Richie had pushed from the wall, his hands in his pockets.

Brasa’s voice rose in volume, and when Lilah looked back in his direction, she was surprised to see the entire wall lit up. His blood glowed with orange fire, smoke wafting faintly from the stone. She resisted the urge to get closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

He kept going, until he was nearly yelling, the force of the magic he was working creating a physical wind that began to push her back. Lilah, with effort, held her ground, gritting her teeth as it picked up.

As whatever the fuck he was doing grew to a crescendo, Brasa raised the knife and slit his own throat. The depth of the cut, the angle with which he slashed, sent a spray of blood onto the wall. It kept going, spurting out in a waterfall of red that soaked the portal. Lilah could not contain the scream, the sound of it ringing out above the wind in her ears.

She kept screaming, unable to even move as more and more blood burst forth from his body. The symbols on the wall burned with a light that cast him entirely in shadow. His wide shoulders tipped back, chest bowing under the weight of the magic that cracked the stone wall down the center of the circular indention.

With what had to be unimaginable strength, Brasa took hold of the staff and thrust it into the crack. It sank deep with a metallic ting. The rock crumbled, falling down to the ground at Brasa’s feet, leaving an empty opening that appeared to lead to nowhere.

Quite suddenly, the oppression of the magic in the room dissipated, leaving them all standing in nothing but silence and the lantern light. Brasa stumbled back a step, then fell. Lilah knew that she would never forget the sound of his body hitting the ground, the way the staff rolled uselessly from limp fingers.

The second her feet could move, she was scrambling to him, landing hard on her knees. Hands shaking, Lilah held them above his body, trying to figure out what she could do. It scared her that he was so still. It also scared her that she couldn’t feel any heat coming from his skin. Tentatively, she touched his throat.

The wound was clean, but so deep that she could tell he’d severed his own windpipe all the way through. If she were so inclined, Lilah could sink her fingertips into the cut and feel the bone of his spine. Tears formed in her eyes, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Lilah just kept staring at it.

Shoes appeared in her periphery, “Is he…?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

Seth knelt next to her, a silent comfort while she waited for Brasa to come back from a move that she was absolutely going to yell at him about later.

From the other side of the room, Richie called out, “He needs to feed.”

Lilah glared at him, angry at the interruption to her grief. And then her face relaxed as she realized that he was right. On her hands and knees, Lilah crawled a few feet and snagged the knife from where he’d dropped it. She returned to Brasa’s side, hesitating only a moment before she dug it into her arm.

Grunting, Lilah kept going until her blood flowed freely. Breath still, she held the wound over his open throat, trying to keep from wasting it. The wet plop of each falling drop made her physically ill, fear turning her stomach. She swallowed down the bile and made herself keep her arm in place.

Slower than hours before, but faster than it had any right to be, the wound began to close. Lilah leaned on her hands, eyeing him for more signs of healing. She could see where her blood had coated the inside of his neck, but didn’t know what to look for. Everything looked the same—red, glistening flesh.

It wasn’t until his eyes fluttered beneath his closed lids that Lilah felt herself begin to breathe again. Cupping his cheeks, she whispered his name, careful not to jostle him. Though faint, she could feel his body begin to warm, a tremor working its way over his limbs.

“Thank God,” she whimpered, an unfathomable weight lifting.

“That’s one way to put it,” came an amused drawl from across the room.

“Shut up, Richie,” Seth and Lilah barked in unison.

Though his eyes remained still, Brasa began to show more life. Encouraged, Lilah slashed her arm again, hoping to speed the process along. As he soaked up more of her blood, she could see the muscles all along his throat quiver, the fibers knitting together.

Two more times, Lilah opened herself up for him, until her arm began to ache. By then, his body had rebuilt his carotid and jugular, his windpipe sealing together. Air pulled through and into his body with a high pitched whistle, his chest expanding the slightest bit.

Lilah hovered over him, watching helplessly as his skin began to seal together. So focused was she on his throat that she didn’t notice he was looking back at her until a soft, strange sound hit her ears. Startled, Lilah touched his cheek, saying his name.

He didn’t seem to recognize her, his gaze unfocused and glassy. She’d seen that look before, recalled that it had taken him several minutes to come back to himself. He blinked sleepily at her through dark lashes, the rest of his body still.

Utterly relieved, Lilah leaned down and dropped a short kiss to his mouth. She pulled back a few inches, saying, “Hey. Welcome back.”

He stared up at her blearily, a little crease forming between his brows. Mouth pursed, he attempted to speak, only managing a rasping groan. Lilah hushed him gently, pushing his hair back from his face. Eyes fluttering at the feeling, Brasa lay still and relaxed.

Lilah glanced up at Seth, still kneeling next to her, “I think he’ll be alright.”

Head ticking to the side, Seth scratched the stubble on his chin, “Let’s just hope his assistant gets here before his stomach starts growling.”

Laughing softly, Lilah reached out and touched Seth’s shoulder, a silent thank you for his support. Seth lifted his hand and laid it atop hers, giving it a soft pat. The body beneath her other hand growled. Normally deep and rumbling, the sound came out high pitched and wheezing. It was no less threatening for it.

Lilah looked down, noting his unhappy glare. Eyes red, Brasa focused on Seth, his mouth turned down. She could feel the muscles of his body tense to rise, could sense primal anger reflecting in the bond. On the low end of panic, Lilah pulled her hand away from Seth and shooed him away with it, cooing at Brasa to try soothe the growing fire. She was entirely unsuccessful.

Having gained more strength in the seconds he’d been awake, Brasa’s lips curled back, fangs sharp. His body temperature skyrocketed, limbs shifting restlessly as he worked up the energy to rise. She had to distract him, but her touches, her voice, weren’t reaching through the fog of his fury. Lilah needed something stronger.

With one hand, she grasped the knife, turning it so that the blade faced up. Two fingers pressed hard, until it broke through the barrier of her skin. Very deliberately waving her fingertips on the side opposite to where Seth was carefully crawling backwards, Lilah was pleased when he caught the scent and turned his head towards them.

The tender skin of his wound twisted, but remained intact, he showed no outwards signs of pain. Lilah held her bleeding hand out of his reach for a second or two, ensuring that she had his full attention.

“If you want it, you need to calm down,” she told him firmly.

From not far away, Richie drawled, “You know, Kate did the same thing to me that time I got shot in the stomach.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Lilah ordered, keeping her eyes on Brasa.

He flicked an annoyed look at her, but dipped his chin in acquiescence. She touched her fingers to his lips, biting back a sigh when he drew them into his mouth. The hot muscle of his tongue wrapped around and through them, licking and sucking noisily.

“If he gets rough with you, I’m going to put an entire clip into him,” Seth announced lowly.

Lilah nodded, “Duly noted.”

A scraping sound echoed in the opening to the tunnel that lead deeper into the caves. In the next blink, Richie was gone, dust swirling in his wake. A moment later, he appeared again, dragging one of Benny’s goons along behind him.

“Looks like we got a visitor,” Richie said with a wide, unkind smile.

Lilah didn’t bother to stop Brasa as he sat up, angling himself so that he caged her in with a snarl. She kept contact with him, running her hand up and down his side, ready to react if he attacked the wrong person.

Kicking hard, Richie sent the other guy sprawling across the room towards them, “You want to tell us what you were doing lurking around like a damn, dirty, lurker?”

Lilah would have laughed, but she was too busy being man handled around and behind Brasa. She rocked back, almost tumbling over herself, before righting her body and pushing onto her knees. A steady sound rolled out of Brasa’s chest, the air around him shimmering with heat.

The goon looked from Richie, to Brasa, and back, his mouth open in abject fear, “He just wanted to know if you’d destroyed the portal. That’s all.”

“He being Benny,” Seth sneered. Lilah could hear him cock his gun, and she had no doubt that he was keeping constant aim.

“Yes. Yes.”

Richie tilted his head to the side, “I don’t think you’re going to be giving him that information.”

Knowing he was done for, the goon tried to stand, tried to get his feet beneath him. Brasa moved. Fast. Lilah barely blinked and he had the guy in a fierce hold, teeth tearing into his throat. She tried to keep her breathing even, but couldn’t help the way her adrenaline kicked up. Having only experienced something like this one before, she didn’t have enough information to know how to keep herself and her friends safe while Brasa came back to himself.

He drank deeply, the sound of it smothered by the gurgling screams of the culebra in his grasp. The room spiked with heat, a glowing red pulsing below Brasa’s skin. As the goon went limp, his body sizzled, burning brightly until he was nothing more than ash floating aimlessly to the ground.

Someone made a sound—a rasping, wheezing sound—and Lilah realized that it was her. She realized that her hand was up, as if to somehow stop him. Brasa’s attention turned to Richie, who was nearest to him, and Lilah feared he would turn that awesome power to immolating the other man.

Swallowing down any trepidation, Lilah called his name. It came out in a croak. She cleared her throat and did it again. Brasa finally looked at her, red eyes assessing. Lilah beckoned him over in what she hoped was an inviting way.

He obeyed, crawling over the stone floor towards her. Lilah’s gratitude showed in a carefully controlled exhale. She gathered him into her arms, hoping that he would just rest there until Javier arrived. Hearing him breathe her name told her that he was gaining a semblance of control back, that he at least knew who she was.

Brasa inhaled against her skin, one hand resting at the back of her neck. She felt him wrap an arm around her waist, a firm embrace. He rubbed his cheek against hers, dipping down to touch his lips to her neck. He nuzzled there, and it was almost too late when Lilah realized he was trying to find the best way to bite down.

Her arm snapped up, fingers in his hair. She yanked, pulling him back so that she could look in his eyes—eyes that had bled into black, “No.”

The last thing she needed was for him to inject a healthy amount of venom into her veins, rendering her almost completely useless for an indeterminate amount of time. It would take nothing for him to lash out at Seth and Richie, possibly even Javier. Lilah needed to stay focused and alert for the time being.

Brasa’s mouth formed an adorable pout that in any other situation would have earned him a sweet kiss. Lilah resisted the urge, not wanting to encourage him. Instead, she pulled her legs out from under her, sitting beside him, one eye on the cave opening. Brasa sighed, put out, but followed her lead.

Footsteps sounded, obliterating the calm she’d only just managed to achieve. Brasa growled, the sound taking on the smooth timbre she was used to hearing. He pushed her down so fast that she could do nothing but land on her back, the air knocked out of her. Still growling, he hovered over her, the glow returning to his skin.

Lilah craned her neck to see Javier strolling in with an air of nonchalance. He stopped just inside the cave, looking from one person to the next.

“So, you were successful.”

Seth spoke up, gesturing with the gun in his hand, “Yeah. I think we broke your boss, though.”

Javier smiled, lifting a Trader Joe’s bag, “I brought sustenance.”

“Well, he’s already eaten one person, a la carte.”

Giving a little chuckle, Javier took a step forward only to be met by another warning growl. He cocked his head to the side, considering the scene before him. Then, with a smile that said he’d be talking with Brasa about it later, he tossed the bag within a few feet of them.

“I put a pack of body wipes in there,” Javier announced genially, “I figured things would get messy.”

From around Brasa’s arm, Lilah sent him a smile, “That is appreciated.”

Although it was to be expected, Brasa’s face, neck, and chest, were covered in drying blood. In the moment, he didn’t seem to mind. But, once he was well fed and thinking clearly, it might be another matter entirely.

“I think,” Javier commented lightly, “That we should give them a little privacy, don’t you?”

Seth balked, “He’s half feral. I’m not leaving her alone with him.”

By this time, Richie had crossed (carefully) to his brother. He laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder, “She’ll be fine. He can’t hurt her.”

“You don’t know that,” Seth shot back, eyeing how Lilah was laying prone on the ground.

“Actually,” Richie countered, “I do. Its impossible man. Couldn’t hurt her, even if he wanted to.”

Javier nodded sagely, “Your brother is right. Lady Lilah is quite safe.” Then, “Make sure he drinks them all.”

Though he clearly didn’t believe Javier, Seth allowed his brother to tug him through the cave opening and out into the night. Lilah listened to their voices fade, until all that was left was the lantern light and Brasa crouching over her.

Slowly, Lilah pushed up to one elbow and reached out one hand to snag the bag, dragging it in close. Blindly, she dug around in it. She pulled out a bag of blood, not quite as warm as Brasa would have preferred. When she offered it to him, instead of taking it, he leaned down and sank his teeth into the plastic. It tore audibly, the bag shrinking steadily as he drank.

The first bag emptied quickly, but before Lilah could reach for another, Brasa was up and moving. He grabbed both her and the tote, grip unforgiving. Nearly dragging her, Brasa hustled into the niche left by broken portal. In the shadows, Brasa sat back against the wall and hauled her into his lap. Lilah smiled and let him hug her to his body, let him take whatever comfort he needed.

When the trembling in his body waned, she leaned away and grabbed for a blood bag. He turned his head away when she brought it close, trying to ease her down to lay against his chest.

Lilah scoffed, holding up the bag, “You need to eat.”

He glared at her, a stubborn set to his jaw. She mirrored that stubborn look, wiggling the blood at him. Mouth opening very slowly, Brasa dipped his chin and dug in. Lilah hummed in praise, using her free hand to comb through his errant curls. She didn’t mind feeding him by hand, if that meant that he would eat.

The second bag went as quickly as the first, and was thrown aside so that Lilah could reach for a third. The process repeated in much the same way as it had the first two times. But, when she offered him the fourth bag, Brasa pushed her hand down and leaned his head back against the wall, fatigued.

Lilah set the bag down, resting her hands on top of her thighs as she waited for him to get his second wind. Though she tried to keep still, Lilah couldn’t help fidgeting. Her nerves were still working to come back to baseline, all the excitement of the day catching up to her.

Eventually, Brasa opened his eyes, “Are you alright?”

She paused, then said, “Are you?”

He lifted a shoulder lazily, “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse than slitting your own throat?”

His eyebrows quirked, humor working its way into his expression. Lilah slapped his chest playfully, reaching for another bag. She took his hand and set it firmly in his palm. While he drank, she dug around until she found the body wipes. With as much care as she could muster, Lilah cleaned his skin. Long, smooth strokes that washed away the bulk of the blood covering his chest and neck. When he finished with the blood, she took a clean wipe and ran is over his cheeks and chin.

“There,” she murmured when she was done, “You almost look human again.”

He hummed, hands running up her sides and back down again. Lilah relaxed into the movement, shaking herself and pulling out the last blood bag. Brasa sighed, defeated. Then took it and drank it down, swallowing quickly and heavily.

As he finished, Lilah found herself saying, “You killed yourself. Right in front of me.”

He tossed the bag aside, licking his lips, “I said that I would lose a lot of blood.”

“Not by your own hand,” she retorted, failing to keep the anger out of her tone.

Brasa laid his head back against the wall, saying, “It wouldn’t have made a difference if I told you.” He ran his hand over his face, “You weren’t supposed to see it. I was going to come here, do the ritual, take a day to recover, and come home.”

She would have fought him on it, would have demanded that he let her come along. Lilah didn’t know if he would have even told her where he was going, in that case.

When he was able to stand, Lilah helped Brasa get dressed and threw the ritual tools into the Trader Joe’s bag. Outside, Javier and the brothers Gecko were waiting. Lilah threw the bag into the floorboard of Javier’s SUV, then gave Brasa an assist to sit inside.

Turning to her friends, she said, “There’s still more to do. Benny got away.”

“Fucker,” Seth muttered.

Richie lit a cigarette, “I take it you have a plan.”

“I have some thoughts.”

Seth pulled his keys from his pocket, “I need a drink. Let’s blow this joint—you can tell us your thoughts over a beer.”

Dangerous Love- Failure.

So...you guys are definitely gonna want to have some tissues at the ready when you read this!

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Tag list: @happyhostforsymbiotes @namelesslosers @brianaisasongbird @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @unrulyhealy @frootloop311 @amywhatsherface @thinkingsofamadwoman @shadow-of-wonder @anytimebitches @crazyonesarethebest @christinawxxx @biba3434 @onlythechicagoway @zazasblogxx 

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message x

Warnings: VERY. FUCKING. EMOTIONAL. OKAY.

A confession comes hand in hand with heartbreak.

  YOUR POV

Your eyes felt heavy, weighed down with slumber that seemed to avoid you whenever you got close. The small moments of sleep you had manage to snatch, had been plagued with nightmares. You would only blink, and suddenly you were faced with a man pointing a rifle right at you. You had no time to scream, given no opportunity to make a sound, before the trigger had been pulled. The memory of the bullet tearing through your skin, had brought you crashing back to Earth. Your screams would ring out through the room, as Alfie would wrap his arms around you, attempting to soothe your panic.            

 You were curled up on the armchair, placed within a darkened corner of the room. The shadows provided you with some form of solace, as your eyes wearily took in the goings on around you. Alfie sat at the dining table in front of you, the members of your family around him. Tommy had called a family meeting, and despite Alfie’s protests, you had insisted on being in the room when it took place. Although now, you had begun to regret it. Exhaustion had made your body feel more battered and bruised, than it already was.            

A hint of a smile played upon your lips, as you took note of how out of place Alfie looked surrounded by your family. His shoulders where hunched over slightly, his large frame placed in between John and Arthur. You had noticed how your brothers had seemed to warm towards him, in the past few days, and for that you were grateful. You knew it hadn’t been easy on Alfie, seeing you in such a state. Pol had told you that they couldn’t get him to leave your side, in the days that you had laid asleep, his eyes forever watching over you. Guilt had continuously bubbled away in your stomach, since you had found out how much the shooting had affected your family.           

 It had affected everybody but one.           

 Tommy.            

You knew that he hadn’t bothered to visit you after the shooting, instead opting to hide away in his office. It had hurt you, knowing that the brother you had thought so highly off, hadn’t made the effort to check that you were okay. He had changed, ever since the news of your relationship with Alfie had come to light. His moods where far darker, with even John and Arthur making every effort to avoid him. It was strange, the transformation in him that no one could help but notice.           

 A low hum of voices rang throughout the room, your ears catching a few words from the strangely polite conversations that were taking place. The variety of noises all mingled into one, caused your temples to dully throb, a lack of sleep catching up on you. You shifted slightly in your seat, wincing quietly as you felt the stitches stretch with your movements. You hugged your knees close to your chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. Silence suddenly fell upon the room, causing your eyelids to flutter open in curiosity.            

 Tommy.Your brother had always held the power of commanding a frightened silence across the population of Small Heath. Strangers were often aware of his reputation, long before they had the chance to meet him. He demanded respect from everyone who crossed his path, the only exception to the rule being you and your family. The Shelbys’ had no issue with putting Tommy in his place, which was why the quiet that had cloaked the room upon his arrival, was unnerving.             

You glanced at your family, a concerned frown beginning to crease between your brows. The tension that had manifested in the room was unmistakable, the air quickly becoming heavy with a thick hostility. Pairs of eyes followed Tommy as he made his way to the front of the room, each holding a similar expression.             

Anger.

“S’pose you’re all wonderin’ why I called you here today” Tommy announced to the room, lowering himself onto his chair. His face held the same, cold arrogance that it always had, a feature that you had gotten used too. Yet there was something different in his eyes, his cold blue orbs possessing an uncharacteristic hint of worry.

“Just get it over with Tommy” Arthur grunted, his eyes focused upon the table in front of him.

“You may notice we have a new member here today” Tommy ignored Arthur, giving a curt nod in Alfies’ direction, placing a cigarette in between his lips to light. “Not that I had much choice in the matter”.           

 The frown upon your forehead deepened at Tommys’ words. His unjustifiable insolence was beginning to wear thin on you. You noticed Alfie shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the chair far too small for him to be placed upon. 

“Thank ya’ for the invite” Alfie mumbled.

“Enough of the pleasantries. What did you call us here for Tommy?” John snapped, impatience clear in his voice.

“Alfie? What is it you wanted to say?” Tommy smirked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes bore into your fiancé. Alfie coughed slightly, rummaging in his coat pocket for a few brief moments, before pulling out a few fragments of silver metal.

“The bullet, yeah, that fuckin’ went through (Y/N) …” Alfie swallowed hard, allowing your family to witness a rare show of nervousness, before he continued to talk. “Had my fuckin’ name on it”.            

Silence.            

The quiet chilled your exposed skin, as Alfies’ words settled and disappeared into the air. You knew what this had meant, the unspoken meaning deafeningly loud. Your family glanced around the room, their eyes anxiously refusing to meet your own. Their chairs creaked, as they nervously shifted in their seats, grasping their sweaty hands. This behaviour was unusual of a Shelby, who never let their façade of confidence slip. The only person who seemed unmoved at what Alfie had to say, was Tommy.           

 They knew something.

 “So, what you’re trying to say, is that our sister got shot…because of you?” Tommy jeered, his voice harshly shattering the silence.

 “No. Of course I fuckin’ ain’t. I was just tryin’ to say that- “Alfie began, furiously glaring at Tommy. 

“You were just trying to that you’re a fucking dangerous man, and our sister is not safe around you!” Tommy snapped, stubbing the cigarette out upon the table.            

 Angry voices began to rise, heated words thrown carelessly between the two men. Each word was intended to hurt the other, filled with poison and undeniable hate. They didn’t argue with their fists or weapons, but each word packed a powerful punch, bruising the other.             

Fists slammed down upon the table, violently bringing the confrontation to a sudden end. Your head spun to the source of the sound. Finn stood there, red faced and breathless, his chair fallen to the floor behind him.

“I heard what you told Aunt Pol” he spat, his fists beginning to tremble as he turned to glare at Tommy.

 “I know it was you that sent that bullet”.

*****************************************************************************************************

ALFIES POV            

Alfie was never one to get his hopes up, never was one to look forward to anything. Yet when he found you, you had changed all of that. Suddenly he had a reason to live, something to get excited about. You had made him want to be somebody different, to better himself. You had made him realise that there was a life outside of the harsh London streets, that there was something else other than violence and crime.          

  Life always had a cruel way of reminding Alfie who he was, solidifying his fear that he just didn’t deserve you. The bullet fragments had weighed down heavy in his pocket, constantly taunting him of his failure. He had been unsuccessful in protecting you, when truthfully, he should have been there. He should never have let you walk out of that front door alone, then perhaps the bullet would have hit him instead.          

  The intended target.            

Alfie had thought that revealing his findings to your family, stressing his concern about needing to protect you more, would have lifted a weight of your shoulders. He had assumed that this would have magically made everything okay. He couldn’t have been more wrong.            

 Alfie should never have underestimated Tommy Shelby, and that was the second mistake he had made. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known that it was your brother who had sent the bullet. He had repressed the idea, refusing to allow himself to believe it. Your irresistible desire to see the best in everyone, had somewhat influenced him.          

   Tommys’ confession had changed everything. After Finn had outed him, the room had erupted into chaos. Alfie had watched as you stood up too quickly, tearing your stitches in the process. His heart had broken as he witnessed the tears spill down your cheeks, your skin paling you struggled to hide the agonising pain that you felt. He had stood back, as Polly led you out of the room.        

    He was a coward.          

  Alfie sat on the edge of your bed, his fingers playing with the edge of your blanket, the strands of material frayed around the border. The breeze coming from the open window, caused goose bumps to rise upon his exposed arms. His mind was a tornado of anxious plans, each one making less sense than the last. In the midst of it all, he knew what he had to do.            

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he watched you enter the room. You looked beautiful, hell you always had done. He would never understand how you could have possibly fallen for somebody like him. Tendrils of wet hair snaked down your shoulders, as you turned your back to him to open your closet.            

Alfies heart sank, as he watched you search for a dress to wear. He knew what your intentions where- to hide the scar that had formed upon your skin, shouting loudly to the world of your brother’s betrayal. He stood up slowly, watching you pull out a light blue dress, one that you had worn a few times already that week. He couldn’t help but notice the way your shoulders drooped, as your fingers caressed the material of the other dresses in your closet. He knew you longed to wear them again, to feel like a woman again.

“Ya’ know, I think ya’ look fuckin’ beautiful in whatever you wear” Alfie whispered, desperate to make you feel better. You turned to face him, suppressing the hint of a smile that began to twitch upon your lips, as you slid into the dress.             

Silence had been a common feature between you both, neither of you knowing what to say to the other. It fractured Alfies’ heart, each quiet second that dragged by, sending another sharp puncture through him. The air around you both was heavy with the words he wished he could say to you, anything to make this better. But he couldn’t.            

He had failed you.           

 You sighed softly, moving back towards the bedroom door. 

“Wait” Alfie mumbled, reaching out to gently grasp at your arm. “We need…we need to talk”.            

Alfie was aware that you knew what those four words meant, watching you slowly turn back around to face him. Your eyes gave everything away. That was something he loved about you, how you always openly expressed your feelings. Now the feature he adored, was slowly breaking his heart. Pools of tears begin to form in your (Y/C/E) eyes, droplets slowly spilling out onto your cheeks. Alfie longed to brush them away, to take back the words he was about to say, but he knew. He knew that he needed to do this, to protect you.

“I can’t do this anymore. Knowin’ that your family will forever fuckin’ hate me. Knowin’ that you fuckin’ got shot…because of me” the words spilled out of Alfies’ mouth, a torrent of excuses that he knew you would fight against.            

Your mouth opened slightly as you began to talk. Alfie shook his head softly, placing a finger upon your lips. He knew this would be the last time, that he was lucky enough to touch your soft skin. His mind frantically tried to come up with something, anything to make you let him leave. 

“I don’t love ya’” Alfie stated, trying his best to hide the truth from you. He watched as you stepped back, your face falling at the words he said. If he could take it all back, he would have done, but it was too late.            

He was doing this to protect you.            

Alfie made his way towards the door, pausing briefly as he placed his hand upon the door handle.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered, beginning to turn to face you.“

Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare” you murmured. 

Alfie pulled down upon the door handle, beginning to make his way out of the room, when he felt something sharp hit his back, clattering ominously against the floor. The fallen diamond ring glinted in the corner of his eye, symbolic of everything he had just let slip away. He swallowed hard, attempting to ignore the heartbroken sobs that began to tear through your body. He closed the door behind him, leaving the ring to lay sadly upon the wooden floorboards.

As Alfie made his way out of the house, the realisation of what he had just done began to sink in. He had left somebody, who had loved him endlessly, despite the countless amounts of flaws that he possessed. He had never expected to fall for you, yet he had found himself falling hard. He had left you out of fear, a cowardly action that he believed would protect you.

If Alfie had noticed the eyes that where watching him in the shadows, he would realise just how wrong he was.

MSA time travel idea (part 33)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 

Part 34: here

..

Arthur does his best to squirm and press up against his darkness which pins him in place, trying to reclaim some ounce of control.  Something. Anything!

He doesn’t know why he bothers when the result is always the same. Failure. Just like every other time he’s tried to stop the demon from doing something horrific. Like with his Uncle and Darrel, the demon will kill Lewis’s entire family and he'll be forced to watch. Lewis will come home and find them all dead, and it’ll be Arthur’s fault for thinking he could fix things. Arthur claws at the foreign entity, trying to find a crack, a weakness, anything to exploit. There’s nothing. 

He can’t just give up…not yet. 

‘NOT YET.’ He inadvertently shouts the last line.

“Oh, give it a rest already.” The rebuke is causal and relaxed. Arthur can feel the demon’s idle amusement as it watches him flail about.

‘STOP!’ 

 The internal yelling urns him an eye roll.

“What do you think you’re going to accomplish by repeating that? It didn’t work the first dozen or so times. You’re embarrassing yourself,” The demon laughs, leaning back so it is resting against the doors of the open van. Peeking over the horizon is the outline of Pepper Paradiso. With lit windows, the building is silhouetted against the darkened desert. Parked about twenty meters down and partly in a ditch, they are just far enough away that no one will notice the van unless specifically searching for it. The demon’s been staring at the building in guiltless anticipation, legs swinging back and forth, as it waits for sundown. To the left on the motorway, a motorcycle whizzes by, creating a spot of bright light which quickly disappears into the night. Simultaneously, lightning flashes somewhere out of view, briefly illuminating their surroundings.

‘STOP. Just stop!’

“Hey. Don’t make me come back there,” The demon threatens, attention moving to focus on Arthur’s pocket knife. An attempt at flipping it open fails when it jams, gummed shut with blood. Mentally, Arthur winces at the foreign sense of disappointment directed at the object responsible for killing his Uncle. A few seconds are spent struggling with the hinge.  

Finally, the demon gives up on opening it, tossing it aside and admitting, “I guess I am due for an upgrade.” It shuffles around, turning to rifle through the piles of road trip paraphernalia, targeting Lewis’s cooking supplies.

“Now where is it? I know Lew packed it. Well, you know he packed it.”

Arthur falls back for a moment, attempting to regain some strength. All this struggling and yelling is wearing him out, stretching him thin like an elastic band about to snap. Dread and profound defeat vie for dominance. If...no...When he fails to stop this, there is no going back. This is irredeemable.

 Who was he kidding, what he’s done already is irredeemable.

“HA! Got it,” The demon pulls out a box of cooking utensils, dumping them out onto the floor. They clatter around, muffled in the stale night air. Lightning flashes again, reminding Arthur of the storm rolling in from across the desert.

“Now this is a knife.” 

One of Lewis’s slicing knives is held up with no small amount of glee. Arthur watches their green eyes reflect in the polished and sharpened surface. Horror freezes him in place as his nightmare of a life grows steadily worse. 

'This is a nightmare.’ 

“I know. Great, isn't it?!” The demon responds, noting his fixation on the knife, “Once we really get out on the road there’ll be no end to potential misery. Heck, the time travel factor alone is bound to cause a whole load of interesting ripples.”

They twirl the knife between their fingers, gesturing happily at the landscape around them. The unapologetic joy is like a slap to the face, snapping his attention away from the knife.  Arthur resumes his mental clawing, twisting.

 ‘But what’s the point in that! WHAT’S THE POINT!’ 

 “HAHA. Surely you’ve figured it out by now…”  Laughter bubbles their chest. 

 “There is no point!”

 Manic chuckling catches in Arthur’s throat, shaking their entire body. It goes on for several long seconds before the demon takes a deep breath and Arthur smells the humid air, metallic with static. They hold for a count, breathing out in a long satisfied exhale, calming. It is a familiar breathing technique, though it’s not being used for much other than a display of body control. Along the motorway, a truck passes, flashing quickly by.

The demon continues talking, pushing itself upright and away from the van with renewed composure, “Millennia I've waited, wasting away, and now I have this fantastic opportunity to really screw things up. So sit back, relax, enjoy the show...”

Lightning zig-zags its way across the sky, outlining the Pepper diner, which almost seems to stretch into the distance. Arthur is getting really sick of this sensation of mental panic, which is now his go-to reaction to the demon's taunting. 

“...because I'm going to run this for all its worth. The first order of business? Killing our Lewis’s family.”

 All his thoughts are tying themselves in knots, folding in on themselves, becoming unreadable and messy. One part of him is watching and feeling his body move and the other is tangling itself up into a ball.

The doors to the van are closed with the demon’s usual flourish.

 They stroll across the dessert, circling to approach from the side opposite the diner’s car park, away from the wide front windows. In the car park is a foreign truck, with the Pepper family vehicles all parked around the opposite side. So the whole family is home and maybe one late-night customer, because why not add another person to the kill list.

 Silently, the demon ducks around the corner, attention focused on the external power-box, containing the building's circuit breakers. Arthur’s intimately familiar with it, having repaired and replaced several parts of it over the last few years.  With the lightning storm closing in, the first place Lewis’s parents would check in a power outage would be the circuit breakers. Between Arthur and the customer parking, is the employee entrance. The quickest way to the power-box is through the employee entrance. Arthur churns in distress. The demon is setting Lewis's parents up for an ambush.

Any renewed attempts at fighting remain unsuccessful. Casually, with an air of distinct confidence, the cover to the metal box is jimmied off with the knife. The demon flips the main breaker and it makes a loud thunk sound. All the surrounding light vanishes and darkness descends, made intense by the clouded sky.

However, as they turn to duck behind the building and await whoever is unfortunate enough to come through first, lightning bursts across the sky. For a split second, everything is awash with light, brightening, revealing the surrounding area. Arthur gets that phantom sensation of his stomach dropping right out from under him. There,  across from them, standing only a few meters away near the truck, is Vivi.

Unnervingly, Arthur feels is own surprise and shock echoed back at him as both his and the demon’s emotional responses sync up. What is Vivi doing here! She’s not supposed to be here! How! Had she seen them? She must have because she’d been looking right at them.  

A light blinks on, shining in their direction. Vivi is holding up her phone, attempting to see. The pinprick of light washes out her features so she is a blurry grey outline on an otherwise black background. She takes a hesitant step forward and Arthur hears a low rumble. He almost mistakes the sound as thunder due to how it vibrates the air molecules around them. A second later and he realises that the threatening noise is coming from Mystery. The dog is standing a foot ahead of Vivi, backlit by her phone. Glowing red eyes are fixed on Arthur, having no trouble seeing in the dark. It is refreshing to feel the demon’s apprehension roll through their shared mental space. Mystery will protect Vivi. His relief feels like taking a gulp fresh air after breathing in smoke.

 “Arthur?”   

Vivi is walking and the demon manoeuvres back an inch, into the lee of the building. Arthur feels the muscles in his legs tense, preparing to run. Yes. Run. They should definitely run! Runaway from Vivi and Lewis. Runaway and never return.  He hopes Mystery hunts them through the desert and rips them both to pieces. The grip on Lewis’s knife tightens, eyes tracking Vivi then darting to Mystery, calculating the distance between the two.

 They don’t run… 

“Hey!” The demon’s greeting is jarring, and Arthur wants to scream again.

 “Vivi you’re here? I…I…didn't think you’d be back till tomorrow?” Gone is the contempt and snark to be replaced with a nervous stutter. An almost perfect replica of his voice. Did he really sound that pathetic? 

“Of course I’m here,” Vivi pauses, sounding very confused, “…you left so suddenly? We were really worried.”

The demon plasters on an apologetic, slightly guilty, expression, “Yeah about that…I’m sorry. Like really sorry. I…I panicked. Between Lewis and my Uncle, I just really needed to be alone and deal with things privately.”

 A pause for dramatic effect. “You got my note right?”

 “Yeah. We were at the hospital looking for you,” Vivi says, hesitant, unsure like she’s trying to figure something out. Slowly, she inches forward, holding her phone and the light up a little higher. Mystery grows again, and Vivi stops.

 “Are you okay?” She asks, peering at him. “We’ve been trying to call you all day.”

Arthur feels himself wince in a display of guilt. Behind his back, the grip on the knife shifts and his muscles twitch. Impatient irritation resonances about their mind and Arthur does not doubt that, had Mystery not been there, they would have lunged at Vivi. 

“I didn’t know what else to do…”

They back up a bit more, further into the shadow, putting the employee entrance between Vivi and himself.

 “Hey, it's okay. We’ll work it out. We’re here for you, you know. And you can tell us anything. If you need to.” 

No. Arthur’s heart flutters. It’s far too late for that. None of this is okay. A profound sense of longing catches in his chest, drowning out the demon’s irritation.

 “Sure…” The demon mutters, distracted, glancing towards the corner of the building for potential escape routes. The van isn’t that far away, but it is still too long a stretch for the demon to run for with Mystery right there. The best chance it had would be to circle the building, break in and take a hostage. Whether or not that’s the plan, Arthur never finds out. The handle on the door jiggles, catching all of their attentions.

 Lewis steps out.

 He is holding a flashlight at the ready, turned towards the car park, probably looking for Vivi. Lewis doesn’t see Arthur lunge forward, or the knife flick out. There is a flash of silver reflected in the dim light of Vivi’s phone.

Vivi inhales sharply.

 The torch drops from Lewis’s hand, skittering across the concrete, landing so the beam faces towards them, spotlighting and casting two long shadows on the diner wall. Any sense of relief and hope shatter and Arthur finds himself cold again.

‘NO!’

“Heya Lewis. You always did have the worst luck.”

 “Arthur?” Lewis starts talking, then grunts in pain. The demon has the knife partially buried into Lewis’s side and is pushing forward in a deliberately threatening motion. 

 “I wouldn’t move if I were you. If you think this hurts, then you’ll want to avoid giving me a reason to push. One flick of the wrist and I can easily puncture a lung or sever your spinal cord.”

Lewis freezes, turning only his head and neck, attempting to see over his shoulder, “Wh..at?”

 A glare is cast toward Mystery, who is attempting to edge closer, “That includes you mutt, one more step and he’s dead.”

Mystery’s growl deepens and Arthur can feel it reverberating in his chest, through the ground, and in the air.  All around them a new pressure builds that has nothing to do with the storm closing in.  There is another flash of lightning.

 “Lewis!” Vivi tries to run forward but is suddenly blocked by Mystery who leaps between them. Arthur can see her mind whirring, processing the scene, scanning Mystery and looking to him.  Vivi’s eyes narrow, becoming determined. Lit by the stronger flashlight beam, Arthur knows both Vivi and Lewis can see how his unnaturally green eyes spark. 

 “You’re not Arthur,” Vivi accuses, pointing, “Body snatcher.”

 The surprise felt by the demon upon this sudden accusation is mirrored by Arthur. To guess possession right off the bat is a huge leap of logic. At least she doesn’t think Arthur is doing this of his own free will. He never wanted to hurt anyone.  He had just wanted things to be better than they had been.

 Vivi hisses, “Let Arthur go.”

 No longer concerned with keeping up a charade, the demon smirks, “Honestly, I prefer demon. ‘Snatcher’ is such a crude term. I don’t snatch, I appropriate. Congratulations on figuring it out, you're the first human to do so in a while.” 

“Get out of Arthur!”

 A scoff, “Oh, yes, of course, let me get right on that. What do I look like, an idiot?”

 Next to him,  Arthur can see Lewis's profile. His friend's eyes are wide with shock.

 ‘I’m sorry.’  His apology doesn’t make it very far, hitting the mental barrier separating himself from his body.

. 

Note: Yup...it’s a cliffhanger... people like those right?

Part 34: here

Werewolf idea Chaper 8

@lovely-llamas-bro @kitkat-the-snacc

________________

When he awoke, the German wanted to rest further.

He had the time to do so, as he still saw Nikolai by the fire sitting in comfortable silence with the Captain who seemed to appreciate the time to think. He stood slowly, as to not alert the sleeping Marine next to him, and brought the Kronorium to open, reading through the ancient knowledge that tore at his sanity at every waking moment. He paced sluggishly, gripping the tome in a death-like grasp as he tried to understand what had gone wrong, why he couldn't open another portal. He tried over and over, the metal of the summoning key cutting into his skin as he gripped it tightly, his frustration getting the better of him.

Nikolai had been observing the doctor in silence, eyes following his movements. He felt like his eyes were coated with mollassess with how dreadfully slow he paced, but his body was tense. He could see the German loosing his patience as he read the book of forbidden tales, and worried that even he didn't know what to do now. Though the Sargent knew little of what Richtofen had planned for them, he had bits and pieces that he coaxed out of or over heard the Doctor muttering to himself. He could see clear as day that Edward was terrified, which in turn scared Nikolai. The German frantically tried to put forth a wall to calm his team's burning desire to understand, but they all knew it did little to protect him. Nikolai worried that if he didn't feel safe with the other three, it would be the death of the Disturbed man. The Russian sighed, and stoked the flame, watching the embers rise and die out as they cooled.

Richtofen's frustration grew for each page he turned only to leave it having found no answers. He slammed the book shut, casting it to the ground and running his hands through his hair. He sighed deeply as he looked up at the sky between the large branches of the low hanging oak tree, miss swinging with the cold wind and stars dancing in the empty black void of space, hidden partly by thick clouds. He could see the moon, in all of it's not-quite-full glory, hanging above him as though taunting him with the answers he so desperately sear he'd for.

Werewolf's definitely weren't that strange compared to what he'd read and experienced, but how had he managed to bring himself to such a specific circumstance?

Why had the beast that attacked him not come back to finish what it started, and why had he only seen one of them? As far as he knew about wildlife, wolves hunted in packs. He huffed and gave a scathing look at the large rock orbiting some version of the Earth before walking away, grabbing the Kronorium and tucking it beneath his arm as he went to sit by the fire. He seated himself on the stump of a fallen tree, avoiding Nikolai's gaze as he stared into the fire, mind buzzing with questions, nervous.

He glanced to the Russian, and mustered up his courage. He'd might as well admit it now before a situation arose, he thought to himself.

"I know," he started, sitting up straight as he continued avoiding the Sargent's gaze, "you have many questions, Nikolai. And I know that me telling you the same things over and over is frustrating, and that you have no real reason to trust me."

He turned to the other man.

"But something I will be honest with you about is that I'm now just as lost as you. I've read and re-read every line in this dammed book," he gestured to the book that now sat next to him, giving it a nasty glare, "and yet I cannot find an answer for what has happened."

He sighed, hearing the Russian shuffle a bit, still listening intently to the German.

"I know you think that I am using you all, but I swear to you that is now why I cannot tell you what is to come."

He paused, looking for a reaction in Nikolai's face, any signal that he should be on the defence. When he found none, he continued.

"It is frightening to me that I am untrusted by our last hope. You three are vital to securing a future without these demons that plague us, and I need you to know I will sacrifice whatever it takes to keep you all safe."

He let out a deep, shaky breath and felt his chest loosen it's tight knot when he finished. Nikolai nodded a bit, and thought hard on the information given to him. For a few minutes, the two were silent, Richtofen not meeting his eye as the Sargent searched his face for some kind of give. The Russian saw the Doctor's tense stature and realised that to him, this was absolutely terrifying. Edward was never the biggest on the block, always one built to hide when he knew he couldn't handle a situation. He knew that the Doctor had been the one at the short end of the stick all his life, no stranger to the wrath of large men. His gaze softened when his raising hand led the other to flinch, bracing himself. Nikolai set his hand gently on his shoulder and brought the German to look at him.

"I am sorry that you feel unsafe with us, Doctor. I assure you it was not any of our intentions, and certainly not my own." He said solemnly. "I know you feel as though I wish to bring harm to you, but I do not. I am sorry that I have been so hostile towards you. I only want for this nightmare to end."

Richtofen gave a small smile, one that for once reached his tired eyes. Nikolai hadn't seen such light in the man's eyes before, and couldn't help but feel his chest swell with pride in himself. He knew it would take time for him to completely trust the deranged Doctor, but he would take that time if only to make the trek easier for all of them.

Nikolai still had a concern, however. The German being fearful of a larger person is perfectly reasonable, especially in his weakened state. But what Richtofen showed as reaction to him had to be something sated over time, something that scarred him deeply. The Russian wasn't one to prove into others personal lives without reason, but he feared the Doctor being unable to handle himself should they be in a dangerous situation.

"Maybe Nikolai looks too deeply into things," the Sargent spoke carefully, seeing the German's head peak up curiously. "But I have noticed you seem.. skiddish towards Dempsey and I, and I cannot help but wonder if there is some underlying reason for your fear of larger people?"

Edward's head shot up, both startled and a bit weary of the sudden inquiry.

"I am not sure I know what you are talking about, Nikolai. Perhaps you are simply looking into things." He suggested, firmly dismissing the Russians question. He blinked hard, and chidded himself for doing so. He was supposed to be making connections, not enforcing barriers.

"Sorry." He said, "I suppose it is a habit of mine to be a bit.. touchy with things. It is not something I wish to elaborate on, however," he explained, "I assure you it will not be something of concern. I know you push only out of such."

Nikolai nodded, appreciative of the honesty. The German had slowly opened up to a more casual conversation with the other man over time, and all too soon the sun rose once more. Takeo, who decided remaining silent was his best skill at the time, was happy to see his Russian friend be on better terms with their unstable leader. Though, he didn't appreciate his time to rest and contemplate being inturupted. Dempsey was still asleep under the tree when Richtofen returned for his things, and he felt a small smirk play on his lips as he crouched down to stick a wet finger in his ear. He laughed at the Marines disgust and helped him up, thanking him for his hospitality.

"There's nothin' to thank me for Eddie, everyone needs a break every now and then." Tank brushed off, giving the German a small slap on the back.

The four continued onwards, trekking through the deep woods for hours until they found themselves on a cliffside that hung over what looked to bed the remains of a fallen city, much different than any they had ever seen. Deciding their need of supplies was worth the risk, a slow and cautious creep through the empty agreed set them on edge, every small noise or movent sent attention snapping in it's direction. Eventually, Takeo spotted something written in barely readable English;

"PHARMACY"

The men raided the store for whatever they could salvage, bandages, water, medicinals, bags holding ad much as would fit.

"Looks like we really lucked of this time, huh?" Dempsey cried in a victorious note as he found a small stash of non perishable food. When they had all but emptied the small store, the moved on finding nothing of interest for a while. Richtofen flipped through his Kronorium from time to time, attempting to make connections but being unsuccessful. When they reached deeper into the city they noticed small barricades with empty bullet shells around them, blood scattered all around.

Nikolai grew concerned.

"Where are the bodies?" He asked, just before an echoing cry rang through the tall buildings and streets. More and more voices quickly joined, and the Survivors all felt dread fill the deepest pits of their souls.

The onslaught had begun.

With Love from Memory Lane

I want to thank @benalras for correcting my grammar so I would be able to post the chapter today. I was going to actually post it yesterday, but I wasn’t ready.

You can say Hi in AO3 too.

I think I’m the only weirdo that is still posting stuff for the @harringroveweekoflove  

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The next day was charged with excitement and expectations. Everyone knew where they belonged and today they were going to act upon it. Should Billy raise his chin? When would be the right time to posture? Would he be able to growl? He had so many questions that he didn’t ask his father, afraid of ruining the good time they were having, so he let them die in his throat at the moment.

His next worry was Stevie. He hadn’t seen him yesterday after the lecture. How were things between them? Would they change?

Billy went directly to his new locker. As the majority of things in high school, these were set according to the students' labels. The alphas lockers were first, betas (the majority) took the rest of the place, and in case that there were any omegas that year they would be located at the near end since they were a minority and were easy to accommodate that way.

The first class, Language Arts, was one of the classes that didn’t require separating the students by their designation. Stevie would definitely be there; maybe they could sit together.

He was indeed there, sitting next to the window close to the last row.

“Hey! My dad gave more money today. If we put it together with yours we could buy a pile of candy.” He was already imaging a pile of Laffy Taffy, Bubble Yum, and Jelly Belly. Maybe if there was something left they could buy a chocolate cigarette at the store after school.

Stevie was the one that bought most of the candies since his allowance was bigger and more consistent. If they put it together they could buy at least two candies from each of the brands they sold at school but Stevie didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Dad didn’t give me any money today.” He grumbled on his desk, laying on his arms.

That was weird, one of the things Stevie was well known for was his parents’ money. What they didn’t know at the moment was that it would take three months for his parents to give him his allowance again.

In years to come, he will develop a theory of what must have happened in that strange period of time where Stevie came in a weird mood and without snacks. And also, what could have happened to Hannah.

It was universal knowledge that an alpha couple could only have an alpha kid, maybe a beta one if recessive genes came into collation. Still, they would never be able to have an omega child. Which Steve, unfortunately, ended up being -- only to accidentally prove the blatant infidelity of Mrs. Harrington. Steve just became collateral damage.

Billy could only imagine the fight that had to have been unleashed in that house after Steve showed them his test and schedule that needed to be signed.

Billy doesn’t know what kind of agreement they came up with, but the fact was the Harringtons didn’t divorce and still lived in the house. Well... they still stopped by the house when they were in town.

Frederick Harrington never denied Steve, never disowned him or physically hurt him after the events, but something changed after that day. The time he spent at work went on to the point of spending days or even weeks without setting foot in the house. His relationship with Steve started becoming uncomfortable, cold and denaturalized.  Understandable to a point if you consider that Steve’s presence reminded him of that infidelity and the fact that he raised a bastard all this time.

Martha Harrington was kind of a mystery. Nobody knew much about her past. She just showed up (a few times over the years she would share bits of her past with a glass of wine in her hand ). She wasn’t emotionally open, just a hard working woman even before meeting who would then become her husband, which might be why many of the adults at the time were surprised that she even had the time to have an affair.

He supposed that she did care for her son in her own way. But still, Billy wasn’t going to forget or forgive them easily for how they neglected Steve.

Those first weeks of school Billy took the lead and persuaded Stevie to play.

If the Harringtons home was chaos, the school wasn’t much better. You see, Billy wasn’t the only one that cared about displaying the proper behavior according to your designation. A few weeks after the start of school, you could see the attempts of several classmates to establish dominance over others and ensure a good position in the hierarchy of the classroom, and Stevie became an easy target as a result.

People weren’t prone to ignore the fact that Steve was the only male omega in the classroom, so a bit of taunt was to be expected. That was what he thought at the time, and why he didn’t intervene at that moment, mostly because he agreed with most of the things that were said.

I was a little bigoted shit, and again, I’m sorry, Steve.

They were playing basketball during recess and Stevie fell, scraping his knee. Not a big deal, it wasn’t the first time that any of them hurt a part of their body. He was wrong, because when the homeroom teacher found out, all of them were lectured on how they shouldn’t play so roughly with an omega, to the point of quoting the saying “you don’t touch an omega even with the petal of a rose”, which he always thought  was a stupid thing to say. Anyway, that crap ended up hurting Stevie more than any other game of basketball.

The teacher’s good intentions backfired after that day. Stevie wasn’t allowed to play with them, nobody wanted to be responsible for “hurting” an omega. Steve would end up being by himself all grumpy during recess until a teacher encouraged him to play with the omega girls.

Billy and Stevie would play together at Stevie’s home like always as if nothing had changed in their little world. They would still play outside and wrestle in the bathtub but Stevie never cried or decided to stop playing with him over a bruise or a scrape, and even though he knew that Steve was equally tough as any other kid, the boundaries were set, what happened at home stayed at home and what happened at school stayed at school.

Anyway, the teacher’s solution would never be permanent. First, because Steve didn’t have anything in common with those girls apart for their designation, and second, the “solution” only brought another problem -- Stevie was baptized with a new nickname after his new found fragility.

Stevie Queenie. It wasn’t a secret that Billy called Steve “Stevie” (it was that Steve called him Silly Billy), but he was the only one allowed to do that. After the taunting and some weak nicknames, that was the one that stuck in everyone’s minds.

Steve didn’t allow him to call him Stevie again after that.

One of the bigger problems at school was the fact that Billy didn’t do anything to defend him for a while, especially because for once Steve fought back. Maybe it was that Billy didn’t intervene, or how annoying and persistent the other could get, but Steve grew a backbone out of it.

One day, Steve just had enough of it.

It happened during recess. Billy was working on his homework so he would have less things to do at home. He tuned out the noise, so he didn’t know how it actually started. But basically, what happened was that a group of boys were talking about collectible cards or something, and that lead to what someone’s cousin said, which then led to that cousin’s job. This ended with them touching the topic of the future jobs they were going to have as adults, and then Michael told Andrew that he couldn’t be a professional football player because they were mostly alphas, the betas players weren’t as famous or popular to count. That lead to how betas would always marry other betas, until David, Jason or Mark (the name changed every time the story was told) said that the only omega that Andrew could have was Steve. Immediately, a series of eww’s, nooo’s and giggles exploded.

Billy doesn’t know how much of it Steve heard, but he did, and he proved it when he stood up from his seat and punched Andrew in the face, pushed Michael off his seat, and probably would have done the same with the rest of the group if Jason hadn’t stopped him.

Billy stood up when he saw Steve struggling and Jason about to do something while holding him. The teacher wasn’t there at the moment, so the fight easily went out of hand, and it didn’t stop until Jason was crushed under the two-door metal locker they used to store school supplies.

The only reason why the Millers didn’t take that incident to a whole new level was because legally confronting the Harringtons would’ve been unsuccessful, and because it would have to be made public that their son was being an asshole with a bunch of other kids to the only male omega in town (and were too cowardly to take full responsibility and do more than pointing fingers at each other), and also because Jason wasn’t seriously injured.

Everyone got a warning, the teachers got scared, and Steve wasn’t talking to him for a reason he couldn’t understand --I mean, I defended him, why was I having the silent treatment?

The Rabbit on the Moon Part 3

Pairing: Jungkook  x Reader

Genre: Fluff | Angst | Smut | Police officer | Mafia | Hybrid

Warning: mature; depictions of abuse, Illegal activity, drinking, non-consensual groping with instant karma, fighting.

Words: 9.8K

Summary: The moon was your sun. You’ve grown up working under the moonlight as long as you could remember. You served a man, who controlled the monsters that roamed the city at day and night, or rather the devil himself. When the others around you slowly start disappearing, you start wondering if it’ll soon be your turn. A hand reaches out to you, the hand of a gentle rabbit disguised as a wolf, offering a way out. 

Will you be able to escape the clutches of the devil in time?

A/N: I apologize for the grammatical errors! There are quite a few easter eggs in this chapter, a treat for those who read the other series! Let me know if you catch them! 

 I (M). II. III. IV. V. IV (M/Final) | Masterlist

The room fell silent. The lights return, centering to a spotlight on stage. A tall, lanky man stood at the center of the stage silhouetted by the harsh light. He brought the mike up shouting, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Weaver’s Nest.” A light applause followed, and he shushed the audience by bringing a finger to his lips. He circled around the stage, “we have a variety backstage tonight, tigers, lions and for you kinky bastards, kitten’s.” A laughter rung throughout the area, exciting the host.

Yates pulled me tighter into his embrace, sliding his hands up and down my sides affectionately. I felt his hot breath on the nape of my neck. It sent an involuntary shiver down my spine causing him to chuckle. He became more daring by traveling his thick palms up my front but trailed down again before they touch the swells of my breast. His thick tongue licked up the side of my neck and mouthed small kisses along the skin. I reached over once more and gripped onto anything that’ll give me enough distance. I held onto Mr. Shin’s crossed leg, squeezing his thigh enough to leave nail marks.

Without causing a scene, he shifted his eyes over to the rendezvous. He noticed the wild hands and could even hear the disgusting sounds coming from Yate’s grimy lips. The small trail of saliva, like a snail’s slime trail, glistened thickly from the spotlight. I let go when Yates shifted me on his lap, so I sat directly on his lumpy crotch. He lowly grinded against my ass, trying to fill every curve with himself. My face scrunched in disgust from his small chub. I attempted to lean away, but his grip on my hips was strong.

Jungkook bounced his leg and fiddled his thumb over his watch; time was going too slow. Once the auctioneer finished his intro speech, a cage emerged from the depths of the stage. The metal device raised, clanking with every turn of the rusty mechanism, and exposed the anxious panther to the arena. The panther was thin, but evidence of his once muscular stature was obvious. The hybrid crouched, stalking the host. The host mirrored by rounding about the cage, taunting the beast. The host spun to the audience, “ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the shadow of the jungle, the Panther!” The host started the auction at a low price of $350,000. Gentlemen raised their paddles and the auctioneer called out prices; slowly the bid rose. “Do I hear, $500,00? Going once, going twice…,” he searched the audience waiting for the bets to rise, but no offers were made.

Yates grumbled in my ear, cursing under his breath, the pacing was too slow for him, so he moved me out of his lap and stood up. He turned towards the audience, “that’s how you’re setting the tone for the night ladies and gentlemen? I think this show should start off with a bang! A real wow factor, who will be the brave hero and take the glory!” He waved around a glass of champagne cheering the sky awaiting a fool to spend their money. A paddle towards the back of the room raised and called out, “$800,000!” Yates swung his arm, spilling half the contents in his cup, “that’s the spirit!” He sat back down and pulled me into his lap whispered, “sucker”.

I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t take my eyes off the panther. The distress in his eyes wasn’t different from mine.  I started to lose confidence, will Jungkook chicken out and not save us? Was there really help on the way? Was this a set up?

I was taken out of my thoughts when wandering hands became more daring. His fingers traced the jewels on my stomach. He nudged at my ear with his nose, “Kitty, can you be a good girl for me?” His breath smelled heavily of alcohol and cigarettes that it was almost inhuman. I remained unresponsive, so he took my breast in both hands groping tightly. I whimpered loudly enough for the others at the table to turn, but Yates was unashamed and bravado about his action. I lowered my head, blocking my face from onlookers, this was too much. Yates released his grip when a final price was called, “sold! At 1.2 million dollars!” Yates cheered loudly and turned to Jungkook patting him on the back, “told you a million would be a piece of cake.” Jungkook smiled at Yates, who laughed like a child at a candy store, then turned to the helpless cat in the bastard’s lap. The moment I locked eyes with Mr. Shin I knew the sternness in his eyes meant more than words could ever express. Maybe it was an animal thing? Something you could feel in the air? I knew whatever it was, he was going to protect us…me.

The lights went out a second time; the tides were going to change.

The lights took longer than anticipated to come back on. The audience in the dark began to murmur. The hair on my arms rose in goosebumps. Yate called out towards the direction of the stage, “what’s the hold up?” When the lights switched back on, guards were being held in a chokehold. S.W.A.T surrounded the edges of the arena with their guns up ready at will. In the center of the arena Captain Im held the auctioneer in a chokehold. The Rottweiler kept a stoic face as he released the unconscious auctioneer, who dropped to the floor with a thud, stared straight at Yates. The Rottweiler cooed, “times up, Yates.”

Under his breath Yates muttered out, “shit.” He tossed me off his lap, unceremoniously tossed me to the floor, running away towards an escape. In a split-second reaction, I grabbed the edge of his pant leg and dragged along with him for a step before I tripped Master. Chaos ensued, masked figures ran, and guards raced towards officers. Master kicked me in the jaw and out of reflex I released with a yelping in pain. One of Mr. Shin’s associate rounded the table and helped me up. I thanked him before he left to join the rumble. Jungkook stood with his hands in his pocket and walked towards the man clawing away at the floor. He walked calmly taking a hand out of his pocket and pulled the wig off exposing his long ears. He dropped the wig and slammed his foot dead center on Yates. The rotund man grunted mumbling out, “you fucker! You set me up this whole time! Fuck you, Shin!” Jeon laughed, “sorry Yates, but not--,” Jungkook dipped when a Doberman swung at him.

Jungkook lifted same foot off Yates’s back and swung his leg round housing the guard. Yates took advantage of the distraction, taking the moment to escape. I stood off the side as I watched two Doberman’s trying to join into the fight between Jungkook and the guard. I looked around at nearby table and yanked the table cloth towards me. I pulled the iron pan, holding a lit candle, towards me dismounting the candle. I blew out the candle and following the momentum of my turn, I splashed the hot wax over the approaching guards. They howled out in pain and while they were inebriated I smashed them across the face with the pan. By the time I turned around to Jungkook, he was racing after Yates. He called back to me, “Kitty, get to safety! I’ll come for you soon!”

I looked around the room and found his associates with their wigs off, fighting against the guards. They were canines after all. The Rottweiler, at the epicenter of the riot, was deep in battle. I was off no use here, I needed to get out of the arena. Luna, Luna, Luna. I zig zagged through the tables, making way back towards the employee’s staff door. I hopped over disgruntled guards, zipping past airborne punches and ran to press up against the metal door. I stumbled into a silent, empty hallway. In the distance I could hear the shouting voices of the kitchen staff. I gathered the ends of my pleated robe into my arms and ran down the bleak hall. The fluorescent lights flashed in blimps above me. I could feel my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, pounding with each step forward. I almost skid into the wall as I turned towards the stairs. I leapt two steps at a time into the kitchen. The kitchen staff was stealing whatever they could from the Kitchen, making their way out of the estate. I made it past the thieves and ran towards the first-floor hallways.

I called out to Luna, hoping for a response amongst the sea of scattering individuals. I opened rooms calling into each, but there wasn’t an answer. I shoved on and felt my throat tightening with each unsuccessful door. I began pushing past sweaty individuals, where could she have gone? I heard an officer in the lobby call out, “all hybrids, please move to the courtyard!” No, not yet, I had to find Luna. I changed my direction and ran towards the stairs taking the right side up. I stopped on the landing momentarily looking up to the obnoxious portrait of a man whom I once called Master. My heels were becoming painful and slowing me down, so I ripped them off gripping the throat of each shoe. With all the force I could conjure up, I lunged the shoe directly at the painting, grunting with the toss. The second shoe landed in an eye, I shouted at the painting, “take that!” I picked up my robe again and continued up the stairs. I ran down the hall looking left and right, “Luna! Please, baby, come out! Where are you Luna? Luna!”

The hallway seemed to twist bringing me further into the vortex. As I approached the end of the hall I heard rustling, it was faint, but I heard it. I slowed listening in closer twisting and turning my ears to accommodate for the sound. I came closer to a storage closet and outstretched my hand holding onto the knob of the handle and depressed. A small, frightened kitten looked up at me through long coats crying out, “Mama!” I drop to my knees bringing the scrambling kitten into my embrace rocking her back and forth, “we’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

I lost track of time, I held Luna in my arms until men in Kevlar vest approached us. “Miss, Miss?” I turned towards the voices and recognized the figures, “Miss, I’m officer Wang and this is Officer Bhuwakul. We’re here to take you to safety.” I pulled away from Luna wrapping her hand in mine lifting her up. They offered us a smile, “you’ve done well.” We followed them out of the house blinded by the flashing blue and red lights. Officers of different kinds surround vehicles apprehending different creatures that disguised themselves as humans. Two busses sat just beyond the cars, Officer Wang and Bhuwakul escorted us towards the bus. I looked towards one of the vans catching a glimpse of Mr. Shin shoving Yates into the back and slamming the door shut. Shin looked like he went for a light jog compared to the wreck that Yates was. Mistress was fighting in the holds of different officers, “I’m innocent! Let go of me you filthy mongrels! Yates, explain to them!” No one, much less Yates, bothered to give her an answer or sympathy, and just shoved her into one of the many filled police vehicles. Jungkook dusted his hands off smoothing his ears down. He turned to me, smiling for a moment, before the Rottweiler called him,” Cottontail!”

We walked towards an officer standing outside the bus doors. We waited in line watching as he took down information and gave out a temporary ID code. I pushed the kitten forward and allowed her to board first. After they took the little information I could offer, I turned to the two escorts, “thank you, truly, thank you.” I offered a smile and the tails of the officers wagged excitedly. “No problem, Miss,” maintaining professionalism they saluted trying to be serious, but their tails were a huge contrast from how serious they attempted to be. For the first time in a long time, I laughed, genuinely laughed. I boarded the bus finding my seat next to the smiling kitten. Her white ears were twitching, and I couldn’t help but mimic the slight twinge of excitement. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but Luna wasn’t in danger anymore, and that’s all that mattered.

Last night we were taken to a hospital, before being transported to the station. Even though it took hours, all of us had a routine medical exam. The doctors were accommodating and patient with us, putting up with the hisses and thumping. With as much resources they could offer us, they handed out mismatched scrubs to wear instead of our “uniforms”. I discarded the robe and leotard as soon as I received something more appropriate to wear. As soon as I slipped on the pair of pants and shirt, I felt safe. We spent the night in a large room where some slept on beds while others slept on futons. They had nowhere else to put us for the night. If freedom awaits, one more night sleeping on the floor was nothing.

The following morning all of us were loaded back on the bus and taken to the police station. In a single file line, we shuffled towards a waiting room attached to the offices of all the unit operations. They took a hybrid, one at a time, to have an officer help dictate their future. Luna rested her head on my shoulder sleeping softly with light rises and falls to her chest. I pulled her closer when real criminals walk by in cuffs glaring at us. I stroked the back of my knuckles against her cheek to evoke a rumbling purr from her throat. She will always be precious, my little moon.  

An officer walked towards the rows flipping through papers on his clipboard, “89? Is 89 here?” I raised my hand letting him know I’m here. I shook Luna slightly waking her, “it’s my turn I’ll be right back.” Her eyes opened wide, dilating to a full black, and lunged at my arm, “no! Don’t leave me!” I looked back to the officer, who’s taped his pen against the clipboard, impatiently checking his watch. “I’ll only be gone for a few seconds…,” I pleaded to her, but she wasn’t having it. In full tantrum, she played dirty by giving me those eyes weren’t possible to say no to. I caved in taking her hand in mine muttering, “the things I do for you Luna.” I walked towards the officer with my tail between my leg, “can she come along with me?” He looked back to the crowded station and sighed, “ma’am, unless she’s related, I can’t allow that.” Her grip on my hand tightened and a loud whine left her. She stomped her feet causing the officers eyebrows to scrunch in irritation, “what’s her number?” She answered for me, “88.” He bite his lip contemplating and weighing the pros and cons. I could feel the hesitation, so I pulled the sympathy card on him, “she’s my baby, please, just let her be with me.” His attitude takes a 180 and changes fast, “oh, oh, o—okay. Why didn’t you say so earlier? Go over to officer Jeon, the third desk in in the hybrid unit.”

I bowed politely to the officer in respect and lead Luna’s towards the hybrid department. The overhanging sign read out “Hybrid Unit,” so we followed to the third desk in. A man was crouched down rummaging through bottom cabinets, “excuse me…officer Jeon?” The clumsy man banged his head on an open drawer, “ouch, God, why do I keep hitting that?” He scooted and righted himself in his flimsy chair. It took a second, even blinking a few times, before I recognized him. It was Mr. Shin…. but this man wasn’t Mr. Shin? I looked him over, up and down, but I’m sure this was or should be Officer Shin. The buck stood up looming over us, but this time around with no façade introduced himself, “hello, let me introduce myself properly, I’m officer Jeon Jungkook, not Mr. Shin. It’s nice to meet you both.” I couldn’t stop staring at him. The rex rabbit’s ears stood at attention matching his brown hair. His sharp jawline was prickled by a five o’clock shadow. I couldn’t place my eyes on a single spot jumping from his doe brown eyes, buck front teeth, and scar on his cheek. It should’ve been obvious that was an alias. I offered him a smile nudging Luna to do the same babbling out, “yes, yes, it’s nice to meet you, officer Jeon.” He pointed his hand towards nearby chairs offering us both a seat, “Jungkook, Jungkook will do just fine. This must be…your daughter, right?”

I turned to Luna, who’s eyes could barely stay open, then back to officer Jeon, “No, but I take care of her as if she was. She’s my little moon…my Luna.” A smiled erupted across him, showing off his teeth to me. To him the resemblance was uncanny between the both of you, it was more shocking to hear there wasn’t a relation. He spoke lowly to me, “I’m sorry I didn’t find you immediately afterwards. I had some legalities to take care of. I want to thank you for helping.” I held up my hands and shook them in defiance, “no, no, no, I did nothing. Thank you for saving everyone.”

The love in the beautiful cat eyes was infectious. Jungkook wanted to embrace her and promise her the world. She was the sweetest and had the most courage he’s seen in any being, man or animal. Her selflessness was aweing. Despite her knowing the cold from being cradled by the devil, she still shined brighter than the sun. She was a angel walking on Earth. With adoration in his eyes, he stated proudly, “it’s my job to protect you. Don’t thank me.”

He shook the mouse of his computer waking it, “alright, let’s get this figured out.” Jungkook opened a registration form on his desktop and tabbed to the first line. One of his ears flopped carelessly, while the other stood at attention. His head swayed to a tune he hummed as he typed in generic biographic info. Officer Kim walked by with a steaming cup of joe in his hands, “morning guys…and misses.” I turned to the lab and caught myself staring a bit too long. Seeing them with their features still took me by surprise. The lab noticed and cheekily winked towards me. I looked away with a sunburnt type of blush covering my cheeks. Jungkook takes a sip of his coffee, amused at her expression, and cheers it towards his partner, “morning Yugyeom.” Jungkook sat his coffee down and while studying the screen asked, “name?” His humming stopped when there wasn’t a response. He glanced over to the blank cat as she stopped stroking her Kitten. I answered earnestly in a low tone, “I don’t have one.” To clear his tightening throat, he sipped his coffee again. Without provoking insult, he raised his eyebrows over the brim of his cup, “no name? Nothing you went by?” I shook my head slowly, “they called the cats kitty and the rabbits bunny; it was straightforward.” Anger boiled thickly within him, like molasses, rumbling along with an inner growl. He rested an elbow on the desk, running his hand through his hair to calm himself. He stuck his tongue against his inner cheek, “they didn’t give you names.” He enunciated each word pointedly. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Yates. When he gets the chance to interrogate him, he’s going to make sure the surveillance cameras are conveniently off. Depriving someone so basic and toying with their dignity... the vile creature dares to breathe!

I shied away sensing the change in his diction. I didn’t want to be punished for not having a name. Luna whined slightly, curling towards me when I stopped petting her. Jungkook lowered his hand and softened his eyes, going back to an affable buck, “no. No, I’m not upset with you. I’m sorry. I—I just,” he couldn’t finish his statement without wanting to growl out an angry grunt. Settling his expression, he sat back biting his lip in thought. A name?

A light bulb went off in his head showing in his eyes; he turned back to his computer, typing fast. He pressed enter and sat back, he puckered his lips in disapproval and then randomized once more. He still wasn’t satisfied with the result, it didn’t suit her, so he pressed once more. This time his expression didn’t seem to strongly disagree. He twisted the edges of his desktop towards the both of you and waiting eagerly. “I used a random name generator to pick a name for you. Do you like this one?” I read the screen testing the name out in my mind different ways, “Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” I had to jumble it on my tongue out loud. The more I said it, the more I liked it. A name! My very own name! A name! I nodded my head like a bobble toy, “yes, yes, I like it very, very, very much!” A short, breathy laugh left him, and for the first time you heard, “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Y/L/N.” I cheekily smiled, “Y/N would be just fine.”

It sent tingles down my spine hearing my name, my name, spoken by someone else. Luna tested it on her lips, twitching her ears at each syllable, “that’s the one Mama!” Jeon couldn’t help smiling along with this little family, unconditional love radiated between them. It was something he’s always looked for. He blinked away the giggly image in front of him and turned back to the form. He asked how old you were and other biographic information he couldn’t guess. Once he reached the end of the form, he scooted back to the filing cabinet and fished out two sets of thick documents. He placed the documents face downwards, “Y/N, regardless of what you choose you will be given an identification card along with a social security. I want you to really think over the options I’m about to give to you.”

I nodded waiting for him to continue. “You have two choices you can take from here. The first option is being assigned a shelter and awaiting adoption to another home to live out the rest of your life under a new owner.” I looked at him expectantly, letting the first option go in and out my ears, waiting for my next option. “The second option is applying for D.A.H.; D.A.H. is deferred action for hybrids. It’s a policy set up by the government to give hybrids, conditionally, a way of living life without ownership.” I lit up, that’s what I wanted! He continued placing a hand over the documents,” but there’s a catch, under D.A.H. you have to pursue education and receive a high school equivalent diploma at minimum. From there you can pursue higher education or obtain a job. It’s to provide evidence to the government that you are self-sustainable. The policy will give you a residency card and the ability to live without ownership after maintaining proficiency under the program for a few years.”

This! This was what I’ve always been looking for! I could provide a home, a way of life and stability for Luna. I couldn’t contain my happiness, “yes! Yes! This is exactly what I want!” Jungkook smiled at her enthusiasm, and slid a packet towards Y/N, but retracted suddenly. In warning, “the filing process takes about two weeks and then you will be given government housing until you find a job. In the meantime, you will be asked to stay at a shelter until you have been formally admitted into the program.” There it was…that made me hesitate for a second. I would have to live in a shelter…again. However, my first concern was, “Luna, can she apply to this program as well?” Jungkook nodded, “yes, she can. However, how old are you sweetie?” He turned to Luna who stared at the ceiling in wonder, so Y/N answered for her, “thirteen.” He filtered through the files to reassure himself, “she is still young enough to take a placement test and be admitted into regular public education. Same to earlier, she will have to keep her promise to work and better herself to maintain a residency card.”

I looked towards Luna making sure she was following along, but her eyes bolted left and right fast searching for answers. I simplified it for her, “Luna, if you sign up you can go to school. Do you want to go to school and live with me?” Her eyes lit up like stars against the night sky, and her white ears twitched excitedly, “really officer Jeon! I can go to school!” He laughed at her innocence, “yes, Luna, you can go to school.” I elaborated, “like I said, it will take a few weeks to file the paperwork, but when that’s done you can go to school, okay?” She nodded turning towards officer Jeon with the same smile. He pushed the packets towards us, “sign here…here…,” flipping the pages twice, “here…here… and done.” He picked up the documents, “all that’s left is sorting you out to a shelter for the mean time.” He scrolled through the list of shelters in the local area. He scrunched up his face thumping his one leg against the floor, “my friend runs a shelter, but there’s only one opening left. Would either of you like to go there?”

Luna stood in fright, “no, no, I can’t be without Mama. I don’t want to be alone.” Jungkook stood along with her, calming her down urging her to sit. “Okay, we’ll find a better spot.” He kept scrolling looking for a shelter that had enough openings, but the only one available was a city away. “I found one that has openings for two more.” Before selecting admit, he opened a registration form for Luna. He followed the same questions with her, “I want the last name as Mama!” Jeon turned to her with a cheeky smile, “good choice, kiddo.” He turned to me wiggling his brows as if her choice wasn’t obvious enough. He submitted the applications, transferring the information to the shelter and D.A.H. program. “I will need to mail these in physically, but the basics should be covered. The shelter will let you know when all processing has been complete. In a few weeks’ time you will be transferred to housing and start on your way to freedom Y/N.” I shifted in my seat with excitement, “thank you for all you’ve done.”

He wrote down on two sticky notes the same shelter ID number, then stood up straightening his clothing out. He shook both our hands, “the pleasure was all mine Luna…and Y/N.” He held my hand longer releasing and gliding our fingers against eachother. He pointed towards another officer, “follow Officer Wang and give him that number. He will know where to take you. Goodbye and good luck.” The golden retriever who was already waving in our direction. I didn’t want to leave so soon, but I responded none the less, “goodbye, Jungkook.” I swished my tail in happiness.

He watched as Y/N walked away with a pep in her step and Luna jumped for joy; finally something kids her age should be doing. He couldn’t help it as his smile reached his ears. His cottontail waged along with Y/N’s white, long tail. Officer Kim left his desk and came over to Jeon’s desk, sitting on the edge playing with paper weights. “God, will you stop with the googly eyes? I feel like I always catch you staring at women.” Jungkook scoffed at the lab, “I just care about my victims.” Yugyeom rolled his eyes, “sure, sure, just like that time you kissed that lawyer, right?” Jungkook sputtered out his spit, “that was conditional! Besides, she’s a close friend and it meant nothing. Mostly importantly, I can’t come in between that thing she’s got going on with Taehyung.” Yugyeom was taken aback, “there’s something go on between them?” Jungkook shrugs, “not explicitly, but it’s hard to ignore the way Taehyung looks at her and he asks every opportunity he gets what we talk about.”

Humming in though Yugyeom changed the subject, pointing to the now empty waiting room, ”what shelter they get?” Jungkook looked towards his best friend, “Riverwood County Shelter.” Officer Kim almost dropped the weight, “recent reports came out from there with abuse claims. They’re still under investigation, but with the way--.” Yugyeom couldn’t finish his statement, Jungkook was already rounding the corner. He ran, pumping his thick thighs as fast as he could, channeling his agility to reach Y/N as fast as possible. By the time he made it outside the buses were already out of the parking lot. He runs his hands in his hair in frustration. He didn’t have any jurisdiction once she was gone. He would have to keep tabs on them until they get sectioned into housing. As he watched nothing he asked himself over and over again how he could have not known. He can’t let them go through that again, never again.

We boarded a small bus with a few other familiar faces. The journey was about an hour and forty-five minutes from the station. The area slowly turned from cityscape to a forest, then a suburban town. It had a true quaint, home town feel. The bus stopped in front of a white building somewhere in the center of the town. The seven of us evacuated being welcomed by a few staff members. They went through roll call calling and accounting for us. The disinterest in their tone was alarming, but I passed it off as exhaustion.

We followed them through the entrance into a hallway, they then further divided the males and females. The males were taken to a different ward on the opposite side. We, the four of us, followed a staff member into a large room with rows of bunkbeds along the walls. They asked us to pick our own beds that weren’t already taken. As a typical teenager Luna chose a top bunk. I preferred to be on the bottom anyways, I needed to be grounded. This place reminded me too much of our last home. Luna was too young to remember that place, but I will never forget.

The staff member called us to stand at attention near the edge of our beds. “Ladies, you’ll find your pant and shirt set folded at the end of your bed. I will come around giving each of you a bracelet. If you’re a D.A.H. applicant, make sure you get the blue bracelet.” She stopped at each hybrid typing information on a tablet and printed to a sticker instantly. She pulled out a tamper resistant snap ID band and stuck the ID sticker onto the band. We were officially branded and tagged like cattle. The staff member was smart enough to locked it around the non-dominant hand. We were the only ones to have blue bands in our group. This was going to be a long two weeks.

The first week at the shelter wasn’t easy. I was often confused and mistook the shelter staff like I was living at the estate. The female staff was cattier than the cat hybrids themselves. Whenever I noticed a staff member harassing a hybrid, I stepped in mediating the situation. I would pull the hybrid away from the situation as calmly as possible. They often looked at me with a glare, but they didn’t know the taste of leather. I would often find myself watching from the two-way window in the interior hallway, peering into the “play room” at the hybrids to be adopted. I watched the children and adults congregate in the same room and observe as spectators would come by picking from the crop. In my short time here, I found out there was more green and only few blue bracelet holders. This made me stand by and watch the others. I would wonder, would that be a better option? Should I have chosen that life for myself and Luna again? Would I be happier? Somedays a few would leave, other days no one left. Luna came up behind me, squeezing me in a back hug, “Mama, what are you doing?” I looked at her and cupped her face rotating my thumb on the apples of her cheek, “nothing, my love. Let’s go back to our room, okay?” The innocent light within her never dimmed, even if the ones around her grew darker.

That night I couldn’t sleep, in fact I couldn’t sleep well ever since we’ve arrived. I tossed and turned in my bunk. Out of frustration I got up, sitting in my narrow bed. Everyone else was asleep, so I tipped toed towards the door and cracked it open. I needed a distraction. We weren’t allowed up to wander at night, so I stayed within the shadows. I listened and watched the hallway; stilling all my movements except to twist and turn my ears to listen for life. I closed the door further when I heard footsteps nearing. I left a sliver open and leaned my ear against the door eavesdropping into the soft murmur of the voices. “When is the order due?” A male voice asked, causing the other half of the pair to pause. “Soon, by tomorrow morning the latest. We won’t have enough hybrids to adopt out to the customer, so I’m thinking we can change some of the blues to green. It’s just a few hybrids, no one cares about them.” They laughed nudging the other, “you’re right; file it tonight then.”

I slumped to the floor as they rounded the corner. It was happening again. My eyes narrowed, ears flattened, and my tail curled around my waist. But not again, not this time, not ever. I rotated the bracelet around to the snaps and pulled and pulled making my wrist blister red until the plastic snapped. I tossed it under someone’s bed and jogged softly towards Luna. I climbed the short ladder and shook her awake whispering harshly, “wake up, Luna, wake up.” I couldn’t take everyone with me, so I had to get away and find help. She blinked lazily towards me, “Mama? What’s wrong?” I shushed her and climbed down. Over the banister I tossed her slip-on canvas shoes, and slipping mine on as quietly as possible, “put these on.” She put them on obediently, but still waited for me to answer her, “Mama, what’s going on?” I shushed her again and helped her climb down the ladder reducing sound as much as possible. I looked her in the eyes, “we have to leave, now.” Her eyes widened, “what’s wrong?” I shook my head, “later, just follow me.” I could tell she had a million questions, but there wasn’t time for that. We had to get out of here, and fast. The night staff were few compared to the regular day staff, so this was our only chance.

I pulled her behind me, tightening my sweaty hand in hers creeping towards the door again. During my time here, I’ve learned the hallways and the spaces of frequency; old habits die hard. I waited again for a second passing of the night watch. Once they rounded the corner and the steps were far enough, we crept into the hallway sticking to the wall. We edged closer to the main lobby, hiding in dark shadows of allowing staff to pass. Receptionist sat at the front desk, one of them was already asleep and the other had her face buried in a novel munching on treats. I was banking on their indifference to the world around them. The front door was right here!

I turned to Luna holding my finger up to my lip and pointed towards the door. She nodded and wrapped her tail around her waist tightly like mine. We crouched, creeping, step by step along the curve of the front desk. The front door was less than ten steps away, but it felt like a million miles away. I peeked over the edge of the desk making sure the two were still fully distracted and crouched again when the coast was clear.

With a silent deep breath, I held onto that and crept forward, fast and calculated towards freedom. I pushed the door open letting Luna go through first and looked back to make sure we still were in the clear. I crab walked out the door through the small crack out into the cold of the night. I allowed the door to close holding it carefully with two hands, but it wasn’t silent. It dinged close. My heart dropped, so I abandoned stealth and grabbed Luna’s hand and ran into the night. I caught a brief glimpse of the receptionist dropping her book in shock pointing towards us, “Stop right there!”

It wasn’t long before I heard the barking of hounds following us and sirens. We had to get away, we’re not livestock! We ran through the empty streets passing by neon illuminated store front signs. The small, suburban downtown ended after a few blocks, falling into a residential area. I pulled Luna with me towards a home, jumping over the fence into someone’s back yard. I figured it would be harder to chase if they had to go through obstacles. We hoped over a few more fences, trailing through different yards, and ended up on another side street. There was a dense tree line just beyond the homes, so I yelled to Luna, “Luna, keep running baby. Don’t slow down okay!” In pants she mumbled out a sound similar to yes and kept towards the forest.

We kept moving forward driven by the sounds of the dogs. Our feet tripped and slipped every now then, but our momentum and will was stronger. My heart was beating so fast, all sounds just blended and rang into a high pitch white noise. To our side we could see the flickering of flashlights in the distance, so I clenched my teeth harder and thrusted with all my might. We ran and ran until we passed a patch of mud. I stopped Luna asking her to follow my lead. I ripped her badge with my trembling hands. Our thin, canvas scrubs carried our scents, if we leave them here we can gain an advantage. When we were fully stripped, I buried the contents under some tree foliage. The air was crisp against our nude bodies, but it would help mislead the hounds. I picked up mud and began rubbing it all over her then myself haphazardly. This wouldn’t help for long, but it was something. Luna’s scent was dulled to my sensitive nose. I grabbed her hand again and began running again. My thighs screamed in protest, but this was something that quickly became secondary. The further into the forest the frantic sounds became nothing more than a distant echo. We slowed when the sounds were silent and the only thing we could hear, and smell was ourselves. I searched around our standing for something to act like a shelter. In search I noticed a rock configurated that had a small cave. I lead her into the cavern after checking for any dangers and held Luna close to me. We were both panting and trembling. I cupped over our mouths attempting to silence our breathes. I pet her head in comfort. My muscles ached from overuse and lungs felt like they were on fire. I waited and waited for hours for the hounds and pound officers, but none came by.

I slumped to the floor carrying Luna with me. She was already fast asleep on my chest, so I shifted carefully. I found sleep difficult, waking up at every small sound. When day broke, I watched for a while, until the sun was in the sky. We eased out of the cave inspecting our surroundings. Luna finally ask me through a groggy voice, “why are we running Mama?” Without looking back, “they wanted to sell us again.” She remains silent but caught up to me sliding her hand in mine. She whispered, “I love you, Mama.” I smiled choking back the knot in my throat, “forever and always.”

We walked for miles and through the trees we noticed a cabin. Behind the cabin clothes hung on a clothes line fresh laundry filling the area with fresh aromas. We hid behind trees watching for any sign of life in the windows. When I noticed no movement I commanded, “stay here. I’ll get us some clothes.” She whined but let go of my hand to cling to the oak tree. I stepped towards the house watching carefully, stayed light on my toes. The dried mud on my skin made my moves rigid, but gave me some camouflage.

I crept through a dead garden and came up to the drying laundry. I unhooked a damp, long shirt, I was able to smell the male owner still on it and looked for anything else to fit. I heard the backdoor creak open and an older woman stepped out. She dropped her basket and uttered, ”oh! Oh my, hello.” I stepped back hissing at her clutching the once clean shirt to my dirty body. In a calm, collected voice, “I mean no harm, dear. I want to help you. Don’t run, please.” I didn’t trust her and just kept creeping backwards stepping over dead vegetation. She began, “I—I once had a daughter named Aure. She was like you, a shifter…but she’s been gone for a while. I can’t sit back and do nothing about it again. My husband is gone. Let me help you.” I paused, mulling over her words. She had someone like us. Maybe, we could trust her. I relaxed a bit straightening up from my hunched position. I looked towards Luna and the older woman clues in, “oh, you have a friend?” I didn’t respond, but she nods anyways, “they’re more than welcome to come as well.”

Luna emerged from behind the tree coming to cling to me. I turned to the old woman,” can we please get some clothing and we’ll be on our way?” She scrunches her brows, “that’s nonsense. You must wash up first, then I will give you something to wear.” I hesitated, but Luna was trembling violently from the cold. I couldn’t let her get sick. I complied then, “okay, thank you.” She led us into the empty house directing us towards the bathroom. I’ve never smelled this heavenly combination of cinnamon and vanilla before, somehow, it felt like home; even if I never knew what that was like, I just knew. “Let me take that shirt from you dear, I will put fresh clothing outside the door for you both. Aure left some clothing here, I’m sure you’ll fit her stuff, so collect it when you’re done.” I nodded to her waiting for the moment of change in her, but it never came. I offered another thank you and slipped into the bathroom. I even locked the door to ease my conscious.

We showered together ensuring that every last bit of mud went down the drain, and as promised fresh clothes was outside the door. We walked into the living room where the older woman was knitting happily. We stood a bit away, and I told her, “thank you, we’ll be going now.” She tsked to herself stopping her fast pace technique, “eat before you leave. I’m not letting you go knowing I didn’t feed you.” Luna’s and my stomach growled giving away our stance on leaving easily. She laughed and pointed with a knitting needle, “I prepared some sandwiches, please feel free to eat them they’re on the table.”

We meandered over and sniffing the sandwiches for anything strange, but when there was nothing alarming. Both of us chow down like vacuum cleaners. The four sandwiches turned into nothing , not even crumbs. The older woman shuffled into the dining area, “I like it when a woman can eat.” She sits next to us and Luna thanked the woman for her kindness personally, twitching her ears and purring lightly. I bowed politely to her, “thank you so much.” She waves her hand to us,” if you thank me one more time honey, you’re going to run out of thanks to give. Now tell me, where are you both heading?” I sit and think about it, “I don’t know exactly… I know we want to go to the police station in the city? We need to talk to an officer there, he can help us.” She nodded in thought, carefully listening to each word, “my husband is out on a fishing trip with friends, I can give you a ride to the city. It’s not that far.” My eyes bulged, “oh, no, that would be too much.” She scowls, “no, I insist, give this old woman a reason to have an adventure, dear.” Luna smiled and laughed, the older woman laughed along with her pinching Luna’s cheeks. Luna asked, “ma’am, what is your name?” The older woman wrinkles deepened and her smile lines extended softly, “call me Nana.”

It isn’t long before Nana has us in the cabin of the pickup truck. Luna sat in the middle chatting away with Nana as we drove to the city. Once Luna fell asleep on my shoulder, the she spoke candidly, “she must be special to you?” With a hum I cooed, “yes, she’s my daughter.” The older woman hummed back in approval, “children are a blessing…you don’t have to answer, but why were you out there?” I remained silent watching the tree pass by rapidly and stared at the random shapes of the clouds in the dark sky. As I watched the world flash by, “I was owned by the devil for years and I was rescued. The shelter we were at temporarily…they wanted to sell us off again.” Again, the older woman hummed in though mumbling off, “I hope Aure found somewhere were she belongs.” I didn’t know who Aure may be, but I sympathize, if I lost Luna it would be the end of me.

The rest of the ride was quiet except for the dull voice of the radio announcer. The tree line slowly turned into cityscape. The buildings we passed by a week ago all become familiar again. The older woman drove until she reached the parking lot of the downtown station. She parked in pick up/drop off section. I woke Luna, “love, we’re here, wake up.” The small Kitten stirred awake mumbling and wiped drool off her chin. I turned to our host, who had adoration in her eyes, “thank you for everything. I don’t know how I’ll be every able to repay you.” Not changing her expression, “you don’t ever have to. Live well and that’ll be enough for me.” Luna hugged her, “thank you Nana.” I opened the rusted door allowing us both to hit concrete. We watched until she rounded the corner and bracing ourselves for the worst walked towards the entrance of the station. I clenched Luna’s hand tightly in mine. I wasn’t sure if it was for her, or myself. I knew one thing and one things only: we needed to find officer Jeon.

We walked up the steep steps melting into the bustle of the station after reading a directory. We rounded a corner, flowing into a hallway that opened up to the busy office. In each department police men and women were chanting back and forth, and of course the burnt-out officers slept at their desk. I read the overhanging signs as we walked past the others. I smelled them before we read the familiar words: Hybrid Unit. I led Luna towards the desk, where hybrids were hard at work at their desk. Officer Wang looks up first from his computer and did a double take when he saw us both, “Kitties? What are you doing here?” His call interrupted everyone watching as pairs of eyes fell on the both of you in succession. My eyes land on the handsome buck.

I wanted to stay strong, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I started crying letting the tears blur my vision, finally letting it all go. All officers approach, but one particular bunny shoved his way through and engulfed me in a tight hug. I sobbed into the chest of the bunny and his hand eased up and down my back to comfort. His warmth reminded me of how I felt at NaNa’s home. He looked over to Luna, “are you okay kiddo?” She nodded tearing up herself hiccupping slightly. He looked over to the team, “guys, can you take care of her for a bit?” Officer Wang and Kim went into action and escorted her towards their desk. He keeps soothing me whispering soft coos of safety and it’s all going to be okay. When my sobs died down, he asked in a rush, “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you here? Why are you not at the shelter?”

I pulled away from the bunny with my ears flat, I couldn’t speak yet. I stared straight ahead and noticed his shirt was stained with my tears. “I’m sorry about your shirt, I didn’t—I didn’t mean—,” I rambled on not quite aware of the question he asked. He shakes my shoulders a bit, “Y/N, it’s fine, but why, why are you here?” I look up at him with rosy cheeks and dark circles, “they, they wanted to sell us too. They said that they didn’t have enough, so we were going too.” I begin sobbing halfway through the confession. Jungkook brought me into his embrace again, tighter than before. His ears dropped against this head. He knew he should’ve pursued it further, he should’ve never let any of you leave. He hugged you tighter yet, “I’m sorry Y/N. I really am, I’m so, so sorry.”

He lets you cry it out until you don’t have any tears left and are just dry heaving. He didn’t think he’d ever see the sun dim, but today there were clouds and rain. He sat you in front of his desk asking you to wait a second. He reports to his Captain, letting him know they can’t wait on those claims anymore. Captain Im nods along then comes over to you, he crouched down to my level and sweetly spoke, “I’m very sorry that happened to you Ms. Y/L/N. I promise that our team will do everything in our power to prevent anything like that from happening again. For tonight, we will direct you and Luna to another shelter.” My eyes widen looking towards Jungkook, who placed a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, “don’t worry Y/N. This time it’ll be different.”

I stand up knocking the chair over with a crack in my voice, “how will it be different? I don’t think the next time it’ll be different. Those people are all the same!” Jungkook tried to reason with me, but I didn’t want reason, I wanted justice. His foot thumped lightly and grinded his teeth. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel unsafe. His bunny ears loose some of their spunk, “Y/N, this is a promise. My friend, he can take you in! Remember, I tried sending you there last time? He’s a hybrid himself. He owns a shelter.” The Rottweiler raised his brows at Cotton tail’s bold claim but shrugged letting him dig his own grave.

I relaxed a bit, a hybrid and a shelter owner? The Rottweiler stood up patting my shoulder, “not all humans are terrible and not all beings are either. We promise Ms. Y/L/N, we will take care of you.” I’m left with Jungkook, who was still grinding his teeth. In embarrassment I lowered my head, “I’m sorry for my behavior.” I curled my tail around me, making myself smaller any way possible. His teeth stopped chattering and he approached me with a raised hand and out of instinct I winced. He pet my head gently raking his hands against my scalp, an unexpected long purr escaped my throat. I choked back in embarrassment, but he laughed letting go, “Y/N, please, I will protect you.”

I wanted him to keep petting me. I stared at his hand waiting for more, but it never came as he rounded his desk. I whined softly, and his ears twitched at the sound, “are you hurt Y/N?” I snap out of my want for affection, blushing violently, and shook my head in a no. Jungkook stared a moment too long, he wanted to pet her longer. To feel her snow-white ears between his fingers and teach you that there is more to life. They looked so soft, like clouds. He looked at the clock, “I’ll give my friend a call and get you a place to stay there. For the meanwhile, stay in the station. Would you like to sleep in a cell? It’ll give you and Luna some privacy.” My eyes water slightly again, I didn’t want to stay in a cell again, “can we please just stay in the waiting room? I don’t want to sleep in a cell anymore.” That broke his heart. Jungkook looked away from you for a moment, re-centering himself. He may be a strong, tough person, but this was chipping away at him. It felt like everything he was doing for you was wrong. He nodded towards you and glimpsed towards a giggling Luna with a smile, “yes, you can. I’ll check up on you frequently. We’ll go in the morning.” He stood with you holding out his pinky. I tilted my head in confusion examining his hand, “is something wrong with your hand officer Jeon?” He was a bit taken a back then laughed, “hold out your hand too, just like mine.” I complied even though his request was odd. He laced his pinky with mine locking the hold, “this is a pinky promise. This is something you can’t ever break, no matter what. This is my promise to you Y/N. I will protect you.” I smiled and tightened my pinky in his, “it’s a promise Jungkook.”

I let Luna play with the officers until she got bored. I leaned up against a wall closing my eyes trying to find some peace. Officer Kim and came over with Luna fiddling with some paper origami. I sat up straight, blinking away the tiredness and outstretched my arms to receive the happy-go-lucky kitten. She fell into place, “Mama, look I made a flower, do you like it?” I hummed and groggily replied, “you really made that all on your own?” She shook her head, “no, officer Tuan showed me how. He has a lot around his desk.” I pet her head and turned towards the officers, “thank you for watching her.” Officer Kim’s tail was wagging, “no problem, I like having her around, please come by more often.” I laughed ruffling her hair, she has them wrapped around her finger. Officer Jeon spoke up, “Y/N, we will be out for a bit. When I come back, l’ll take you to your new temporary home.” I nodded genuinely wishing, “be safe.” Jungkook’s ears came to life saluting Y/N as they walked away. Kim pulled Jungkook under his arm locking him in place giving him a well-deserved knucklehead sandwich. I could hear echoes of laughter chiming. It brought me comfort knowing that they guard the city.

I woke up in an awkward position crinkled into a make shift pretzel with Luna using my lap as a pillow. I opened my eyes as a casually dressed officer Jeon approached us. “Morning sleepy heads. Here, eat this before we leave.” I mumbled back something similar to a greeting and took the breakfast sandwiches from him. I wake Luna handing her a sandwich. Jungkook watched you with a onset grin on his face as you waited for Luna to eat first before you did. After a good bite I asked him, “did you eat?” He stopped mid gulp of his coffee, not expecting that question. “Oh, I’m fine I already ate,“ in fact he ate two for himself. I eyed him skeptically but ate continuously, not completely willing to let go of my meal. He almost choked again at Y/N’s cute side eye. This cat would be the death of him.

Once everyone was ready to go, the brigade waved you all off asking you to visit them, especially Luna. Jungkook let me ride next to him in the passenger seat. I looked around taking in the millions of gadgets like a child in a candy shop. He drove off complete amused. It took twenty minutes to reach the shelter because of traffic. This time around it looked like a home rather than an industrial building repurposed. Everything about the place felt inviting. Jungkook parked allowing us to follow him to the entrance. The estate was large with four floors and a yard. Jungkook neared the receptionist introducing himself and asking for a man named “Jin.” The woman directed you all out to the backyard. Jungkook waved his hand signaling us to follow him. His tail was swishing back in forth through a cut in his skinny jeans.

The sun was blinding as I walked hand in hand with Luna out the back doors. They weren’t metal, but a friendly, white door, the type you see in homes. Jungkook turned back to me smiling, “he should be just around here.” I followed behind the buck, stepping with caution, Luna always slightly behind my back. I walked off the cement trailing through lush, green grass towards a jungle gym. Children screamed about in delight swinging, climbing, sliding all around in happiness. Even when one of them tripped they still carried a wide grin on their face helping the fallen one up. The buck suddenly picked up speed towards one of the adults, lighting up, “Jin! Jin!” The tall, broad shouldered man turned around exposing his round, brown ears in the typical brown bear fashion. Two sugar gliders hung off his arms giggling as they roamed around him, climbing him like a tree. He tried to calm them, but they kept whizzing around him like cars on a racetrack. Despite the chaos, he seemed to be used to their antics. Jungkook got closer to the bear, “hyung, I brought your newest guest.” Jin turned to us, the apprehension in my eyes sticking out like a sore thumb, smiling beautifully. “Hello, welcome home.”

Copyright 2018 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

Please........ some Sweet Osomatsu scenarios..... he's a Good Boyo....... I'm tHORSTY

Well, this says scenarios. Not headcanons. What to do, what to do. I got it! Two short scenarios to temporarily quench your thOrst! Here ya go, a duo with both Mod Finn and Mod Riz! Enjoy!

Written by Mod Finn: 1,439 words; is trash; was thrown together with the sad hope it would make someone happy

If there was anything more unenjoyable than dealing with 5 brothers who hated your guts, it was dealing with your significant other hating your guts; or, that’s what Osomatsu was sure of. Since the night before, after a playful banter over text plummeted into a fiery argument he never saw coming, Oso had yet to receive a single response to the twenty-something messages he had sent to his silent pal. They began as amiable good mornings that morphed into poking and teasing at their previous attitude and finally contorted into thumbed paragraphs of apologies, his mind immediately drifting to the worst. The unsuccessful attempts at contact grew to be so unbearable that he forced himself to hop onto the nearest train to get to their home, desperate for some form of reconciliation with them.

Now, as he stood at the doorstep of their apartment, Osomatsu felt a guilty rope tied to his ribs pulling him back toward the steps as if convincing him everything would melt away like ice cream in the back seat of a car if he only went back home and waited it out. Thankfully, if that could be fairly suggested, the soles of his shoes felt particularly heavy where he stood, leaving him immobile. There was no escaping the consequences of what was to come. He only hoped that the encounter wouldn’t be as emotionally draining as he believed it would be. He gently rapped his knuckles on the door, scared to wake whatever beast may be hiding inside. Silence welcomed him to knock again, the rigid noise loud enough that he cringed away from his own hand. Again, he found nothing to greet him. A sigh cooled his lips and yet did nothing to rest his muscles, held tight under his iconic red sweatshirt. Another knock, this one formed by his forehead dropping against the door.

“Hey, uh, are you there?” he muttered to the concrete floor, calling the resident with the ghost of his confidence. A cough cleared his throat and he tried again at a regular volume, his timid, “You home?” ringing in the stairwell and bouncing back as mocking laughter at his feeble stance.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed, hands comfortably shifting in his sweatshirt’s pocket, “I didn’t think it would go that far, you know?”

His awkward chuckle made him shudder. This wasn’t going well.

“I get it if you’re mad at me, but it’s not fair to put a guy through this. Have a bit of sympathy! I’m trying here!” As determination and desperation danced the tango on his spine his voice gradually raised, his echo frustrating him further. He knocked again, palm slapping at the metal door. “I’ve tried to make it up and now you’ve got me coming all the way here, just to ignore me? That’s a little cruel, you know?”

The undeniable sound of footsteps on the other side of the door shook his heart and a short grin twitched his lips and he could no longer feel the words coming from his mouth. “I don’t know what I did or how it got to this but you know I wasn’t serious, right? You know I’m kinda dumb, right? You, haha, you’re the only person out there who can understand who I am. You’re really smart like that, to be able to see exactly what I’m saying and why I’m doing things and- goddammit, you should know I’m not good at this! I get it, I learned my lesson and now I’m sorry and I’m outside your door begging for forgiveness like those awful romance movies we watched last week! Please, open the door. Say something to me.”

The door’s knob clicked and suddenly, Oso saw the floor coming toward him at an oddly swift pace. The pain of carpet burn on his palms ripped him to the realization that he was now halfway inside the apartment of the one person he was unable to interact with for the past twelve hours. He kneeled, gaze coasting up the body standing before him in sweatpants and a graphic tee. At the sight of their confused features, his guilt recoiled violently and cluelessness made way to his train of thought, derailing the vehicle until he was sure it had crashed into his skull.

“What the hell?” they laughed, looking down at him with a quirked eyebrow. The telltale sign of music became aware to him as it cascaded through the house. How had he not noticed it before? The sound was almost deafening. It was almost surprising they had it this loud in the first place.

“W-What do you mean, ‘what the hell?’” he stammered, unable to stand as the situation perched on his shoulder like a parrot. A grossly large, unidentifiable parrot. He caught sight of a half-eaten twinkie in the hand of his partner and he somehow pushed his confused and horrified expression even further.

“I mean, what the hell was all this about? What in the world do you have to be sorry for?” Their laughter, so sweet and comforting, carefully freed his ribcage of the painful guilt that held him captive and a true grin stretched across his face. His phone was retrieved and the old conversation was picked out to show off, his hand held high above him.

“This whole thing! Don’t you remember! You’ve been ignoring me all day and I had no choice!” His thumb scrolled through the messages he sent through the duration of the afternoon and suddenly his partner’s face flashed with understanding.

“Oh my god, that? I didn’t think it was that serious! It was just a little debate! Every couple does that, Oso. You’re such a dork.” Their hand rested on his head, rustling his hair until he kindly slapped it off, pulling himself to stand once more on their doorstep.

“And you ignored me because…?”

“I have a research paper due tomorrow and I wanted to take today to work on it! I told you about this before we went to bed!” they explained and once again he stared at them, puzzled. They rolled their eyes, snatching his phone and scrolling to the end of their argument. In a rather long message, he saw that they not only politely brushed off the argument, but they explained the exact situation at hand. When he thought about it hard enough, he did remember passing out soon after the conversation from the amount of energy the argument sapped from his body. It was likely he conked out before he even got the message. Embarrassed, he rubbed his nose with a finger, a nervous laugh shaking his chest. He looked to the ground stuffing his hands back into his hoodie.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning into the doorframe, his ankles crossing. A kiss on his cheek almost sent him reeling and a hand pulled him inside before he could notice what was happening.

“Well, you’re already here and I was getting lonely.” A new feeling sparked in his mind and Oso grabbed at their waist, tugging them to face him. He smirked, eyes relaxed in a not-at-all-subtle manner.

“Lonely? I can help-” A hand smacked his forehead playfully and the other chuckled as they dragged him off to their room. He barely reached the doorknob to shut the door behind them.

“Haha, look at you, assuming that I’m going to let you interrupt my work so easily just because you almost broke down at my doorstep,” they taunted, letting him go to hop on their paper-covered bed, pulling their laptop in front of their crossed legs. They patted the mattress behind them, “You’re sitting here and watching me finish this because I am certain you don’t have enough cash to get back home.”

“I mean…” He searched for a retort, only to shrug and plop himself down behind his significant other, his legs wrapping around their waist as he spotted them typing over their shoulder. A dastardly sinful idea came to his mind and he nuzzled into their hair. This was bound to take a while, and there was a good amount of neck that this specific t-shirt didn’t cover. He wasn’t going to stay here waiting around, no, no, no. He was now making sure he got some quality time of his own after all his efforts. Escape was no longer an option as he readied himself for the first hickey of the night.

and here’s the second!

Written by Mod Riz: 1,194 words; beautiful masterpiece; destined to make people happy

“Aww come on it’ll be fun,” the night air pricked at the bare legs of the two now standing outside the ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign taped to the chain linked fence surrounding the pool. With a bright gleaming smile, Oso sent another look to the other standing beside him, elbow hitting against their side when they gave an annoyed pout in return.

Sneaking into a pool really wasn’t their thing, in fact, this whole night wasn’t their thing. Yet they had let themselves be dragged willing along by the puppy dog eyes of the eldest brother. “It’s not that I don’t think it’ll be fun it’s that I-“ a hand shot over moving lips before the rest of the sentence could come out, Oso’s other hand now swishing back and forth carelessly while the other person growled behind the hand.

“Boring~” he cooed out, yawning for effect,” why don’t you just calm down and live a little for a change, like me,” a thumb jabbed in his direction, left eye closing in a playful wink before his hand parted from the others face and went to grab the fence instead,” besides, even if you don’t go, I’m going, gotta check this off my bucket list now or never.” With that and a small chuckle he began his climb up the chain link fence, pushing up onto the top of the bars with a triumphant smile piercing through the dark.

His stand-still counterpart watched, eyebrows raising in a perplexed motion,” you know you could have,”

“Shut up, I made it and you didn’t so-“

“I mean yeah but you could have-“

“Whatever, at least I’m not being a pussy about it~”

“Oso you’re sitting on an unlocked door,” and with a delicate push of their hand, the chain-linked door swung open. This simplistic action caused a domino effect of it shaking before the one on top wobbled, wiggled, then eventually fell off backward with a quiet thud in the grass on the other side.” See?” A distant grumble of pain was all they got in return, a sound that jolted up a laugh in their system before they went to go check on the boy now laying on his back with his lips pulled up in a pout.

“You wanted me to fall, didn’t you?” His accusation was paired with a scowl, playful in manner.

In return his loving friend smiled and said simply,” yeah, yeah I did,” a cheerful little laugh following shortly as they turned to look at the empty pool, iridescent lights glowing in the crystal blue water.

It looked like a scene from a movie, the colors so vibrant and clean that it was almost unreal, and with the black sky illustrating it to be the main point of view… this trashy city pool was turned into an oceanic specter. Even the thin layer of grass around the sides of the concrete pool danced in the blue light, waltzing with the breeze in their spotlights.

With lost eyes wandering the previously defiant other stepped closer to the pool’s edge slowly, hands pushing in their pockets as the light pulled them into the dance, body swaying slowly to the winds lead as it lead them closer to the waters soft call.

Yet, the melodic song was broken when they jumped up, scared by the soft laugh brushing beside their ear,” told you it’d be fun,” no louder than a whisper, Oso spoke slowly, his chin resting casually against the other’s shoulder as he peered at their shifted reflection in the water,” yet, this isn’t what I planned for it to be like at all…” he seemed almost disappointed, his head prying away from their shoulder so he could bend down and look closer at the water. A smirk fell across his lips after a few moments, a finger rubbing under his nose in a slow motion to cure a seemingly never-ending itch that was there,” no no, I thought of this all different.”

This is when the one he was with began to grow concerned and confused, their eyebrows knitting together as they took a step back on the pavement,” what are you planning Oso?” Before another step could be taken and safety could be reached the eldest brothers hand was wrapped around their wrist, pulling them flush against him while the other arm secured their body to his by the waist.

Breath was lost for the moment, irritated and embarrassed red painting the other’s cheeks.” What do you think you’re-“ his face drew closer to theirs, eyes lowering in a soft lidded state while his arm hugged tighter. A heavy swallow replaced the last word, their own hands clinging to the heavy fabric of his sweatshirt.

The wind danced around them again, it’s soft song calling for them to follow, but Oso stood his ground, the smile now sweet against his lips,” hey, do you want to know a secret?” His breath pushed against their ear, a shiver shooting down their spine in a quick motion. A nod was all he could get out of them, the rest of their body frozen in place. So, at that Oso continued slyly,” it’s really a wonderful feeling,” he pulled them around, spinning them delicately in the blue light,” of just how,” his hand let go of their wrist, picking up their chin softly. Mere inches away from them he smiled, the lovely grip on the other’s waist seeming to grow even tighter while their distance shortened. When he was close enough that their breaths mix his hand slipped around to join the first on their waist, lips grazing their ear again as he spoke a few last words,” fucking cold the water is.”

The sudden burst of ice hit the poor persons back like a bullet, a scream and a laugh preceded the inevitable cold hug of the beautiful, horrid water. The warm embrace was lost in the depths, desperate gasps for air following through when both were finally allowed to resurface. With careful, shaking hands, the one who had followed Oso here began to push hair away from their eyes, angry in color as they looked towards the dying Osomatsu, who was holding his stomach and trying to stay above water with his laughter.

The annoyed young adult flicked the water from their face, anger heating their cold body as they began to stalk towards the laughing cause of this icy crime,” you little, awful sh-“

The words never did leave their mouth after that, cut off by the force of, not a hand, but Oso’s own mouth pressed to theirs for a quick second. It held for only a moment, but when Oso pulled away he shared a wink,” shit, right? Awful shit?” A hand raked through his hair, the other rubbing his nose while a smirk popped right back on his lips,” yeah I guess so, but you had to admit, that was pretty fun right?”

It was fun until he had to save a person who almost drowned from the shell shock of a first kiss happening in the freezing waters of a city pool.

No One’s Roasted Like Gaston.[Oneshot].

no one writes FANFICS LIKE EMILEE.

Title: No One’s Roasted Like Gaston. Pairing: Implied!- Gaston x Reader. Rating: T. Words: 2,231. Summary: Gaston thought he was undeniable to women and even some men. Has he finally found his match?

There was nothing particularly notable about the early mornings, at least, not anymore. The sky above was it usual mixture of pinks, purples and some lighter hues of blue as the sun rose and lit up the clouds, giving them a rather unique looking glow. There was a small wind, but not chilling, and brought in the lingering scent of meadows and trees. You got used to those aspects and they slowly became the norm. You began to not notice them at all, and remarked them as being every day life. If one wanted to really shake things up in a morning routine, they would count the cobblestones that made up each walkway in the village. But, that’s the thing. No one ever wanted to shake things up. They wanted things to stay the same for that is the way they had been living for as long as anyone could remember. With change came the unprecedented fear that something terrible would happen as a result.

It was the hustle and bustle of such a small village did leave one breathless and forgetful on occasion if you didn’t pay attention to where you were going and why you were going there in the first place. If one was aimlessly walking in the morning time while the sun peaked into the valley, one might be trampled by those selling goods and merchandise. Some too expensive, and some not expensive enough and left you wondering whether you had been scammed or if you had gotten a good deal.

Aimless and mindless were surely your vibe this beautiful morning. You had nowhere to be, nothing to do or see and so you actually took your time to walk through the village during one of the busiest times of day. There was a variant of smells, some of which you happened to thoroughly enjoy. Fresh bread, springtime air, a small caddy on the corner before the village square that was selling freshly picked roses. Contrary to the flowers smelling divine, the actual vibrancy of the colors caught your attention and dwindled you to stay and admire them for longer than you had intended . Vivid reds, pastel pinks, yellow whites. It looked as if these flowers belonged immortalized in a painting for the entire world to enjoy.

Smiling at the vendor who was a few feet to your right, you plucked a light, dusty pink rose out of one of the buckets full of water. It dripped down your fingers onto your wrist causing a small shudder to shoot down your arm. Miraculously, it looked as if a skilled painter had dipped their brush in the sky during dusk, mustered up enough color to splotch onto the petals of the flower. Some parts were darker than others, but all around, it was a very delicate and soft appearing flower.

“Beautiful.” You could hear someone behind you say. And without the need to turn around and see the speaker, you were already well aware of who it was. Probably looking at himself in the reflection of a window again, you snickered quietly. It was as if you could see the bright red uniform from your peripheral vision and it was already giving you a headache. Setting the flower back into the metallic bucket, you gave the vendor one more glance over and polite smile before drawing your attention to your left, with the unsuccessful hope of getting out of there without Gaston being connected at your hip.

“Quite a beautiful morning,” The voice had followed you and was now singing rather closely into your right ear, “Almost as beautiful as I, but that’s another ravishing fact to talk about over-”

“If you say dinner-” You started quietly crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Dinner.” Gaston finished with a prominent smirk of satisfaction. It was a premature expression, you thought to yourself as you spared him a glance, as if he thought that you owed it to him to share a meal with him. There was no doubt though, as you looked at him and allowed yourself to really take in the details of his face, he really was beautiful, in a sort of cocky, full-of-himself way. The thought stuck in your mind, almost taunting you as your walking speed came to a complete halt. An unexpected action as Gaston accidentally bumped into you, a consequence of trailing to closely. Such an action caused you to stiffen up, your lips curling into slightly cynical smile.

Breathing in slowly, you turned around to face the narcissistic man. Regardless of your face and the underlying annoyance in your eyes, Gaston remained strong, tall and well… Gaston-like. With the sun now risen, his red coat seemed to be even brighter than it was before, his dark hair seemed to have a sort of amberish glow under the ebony and the light reflected off his face and gave way to the rather beautiful man.The lines that encased his smirk became more prominent as Gaston noted you were studying him.

Quick on the draw, you turned your head and looked around nonchalantly. You didn’t want to fuel the fire and so you had the task of steering the conversation, or trying to, away from any sort of flirtatious implications. “Where’s LeFou? He’s usually right next to you to shower you with compliments when things don’t go your way.”

The implied insult flew right over his head, or so it seemed as Gaston didn’t skip a beat on answering your question with a rather hasty, “He had a prior engagement this morning.” The disinterest in his voice caused you to raise an eyebrow in wonderment. You could tell that it was the truth, but if you did ask him what engagement that was, he probably wouldn’t be able to give you an answer without fumbling.

A couple people passing by glanced your way, seemingly fixated on Gaston and his knack for being abundantly flashy without even trying. You tried to ignore the digging sensation of eyes on you, something that happened to come along with talking to the most handsome man around. He also seems entirely invested in grasping some sort of positive attention from you, something that could play in handy. You rolled your eyes and kept your arms firmly crossed in front of your chest. Cocking your hip towards Gaston, you inquired, “Are you going to ask me in another fashion if I want to have dinner, or can I go?”

“Go where?”

You stared up at him with intense eyes and smiled sweetly with just a touch of sarcasm leaking through your voice, “Away from here. I can’t stand the smell of pretentious war heroes who think the world revolves around them this early in the morning.”

“Perhaps you could stand it in the evening,” Gaston rounded so he was directly in front of you. Placing his hands on his belt as if to emphasize something you’d rather not think about at the moment, he continued, “Over dinner.”

“I really wish I could. And I would...” You batted your eyelashes at him, “If I didn’t have a date to eat a plate of dirt this evening.”

His smile didn’t falter and if anything it grew in size. Gaston was rightly amused by your comebacks, some of which being sharper than anything he had ever heard spoken to him. There were a few things he was undoubtedly great at. The unspeakable of what happened in bed with another woman, firing guns, and being able to ingest and spit out comebacks with his own entail. “And what about tomorrow night?”

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips as you tossed your head back in mild agitation. It amazed you how persistent he was as this ordeal was now into its third month of constant obnoxious behavior on his part. Before this three month period you found yourself dancing around in, Gaston was rightfully after the most beautiful woman in town. She wasn’t interested, at all. And though Gaston knew this, he still tried. He liked a challenge, always took a challenge, and always won. But, Belle was not one to be won and Gaston had to give in once he realized that she was not in fact playing hard to get.

“I’ve got plans to sit in front of the fire and stare off into oblivion tomorrow night. Actually, I’ve got that plan for the rest of the week. It’s my favorite pastime. It’s so much better than sitting and listening to you tell me how you got that scar on the back of your right elbow over and over again. We both do know you got it after being cut with a piece of glass from a broken window. It wasn’t from some prime time war heroes dream.”

It wasn’t as if you despised him though. At the very least, you found Gaston tolerable and had managed to sneak in a few decent conversations with him since you had met him. Mainly, about his time in the war and very little about his life before. This shroud of darkness that covered the years before made you wonder if something had happened to him during his service and he’d rather keep it under-wraps because it made him appear weak or less perfect. He was a strong womanizer and he needed to be seen that way by everyone. Any sort of flaw wasn’t accepted or acknowledged.

Needless to say, all conversations one way or another turned into acts of flirtation and infatuation and left you wondering why he couldn’t see that you weren’t interested. Or perhaps, he saw that deep inside you had thought about the two of you together and he knows that pushing on the button of said unspoken desire would eventually lead to you accepting a dinner invitation. Because unlike Belle, you were a challenge that could be won with the right words. Not to say that you were easy, because you weren’t, but such power held over the strongest man you knew was something you used as an advantage. Mainly, to knock him off his god-like pedestal so he could come crashing back to Earth.

“I’ve got it!” He suddenly exclaimed, the booming tone of his voice throwing you off just a bit. “You’re not a dinner girl. Maybe, lunch? Better yet since we’re both here, why don’t you make me breakfast and I’ll tell you all about a different scar that’ll make you swoon right into my arms?” He was preening himself, or so it appeared. He straightened his belt first, then his jacket letting his fingers stray a bit too long on the golden buttons and then let his right hand slide across the side of his head to flatten any stray hairs. That alone drew the attention back to his face and his absolutely undying expression of smug handsomeness.

“Well, why not?” You laughed slightly, looking directly into his eyes without a wavering glance. “I’ll just let you eat all of the eggs I have. Tell me again, do you like them cooked or uncooked? Frankly, I can’t stand uncooked. It makes me sick, makes me gag and I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot branch. Almost like I feel right now.” You shot Gaston one last smile before turning on your heel and walking back to your home. You knew he was going to follow you, it was just a matter of letting your previous words sink in.

The moment they did though, Gaston perked up, licked it bottom lip and trailed after you with a rather optimistic question. “Were you serious about breakfast?”

Bonus ending:

“Something about her is different, LeFou, I feel it.” Gaston stated in a manly manner, looking down at his much shorter friend. “She shows constant disinterest, has proven to be a challenge for me and yet she still allows me to come back and try again. Over and over  Why is that?”

LeFou drew a breath in and shrugged his shoulders, gazing around the village in absolute boredom. He wasn’t particularly big on conversations about relationships, let alone, such a meager small one that it didn’t seem to work on so many levels. But, this was Gaston. He needed to pay attention. And so, LeFou hesitantly spoke his mind on the situation.  “It sounds like she’s merely toying with you, Gaston.”

“Is that what it is?” The dark haired man looked down at his boots and smirked ever so slightly. “If so, is this how women feel when I happen to toy with them? It’s such a… Disgusting feeling… Almost as if my insides were rotting away and I could do nothing to stop it. I look at her, and it’s as if I want her to belittle me, as if I want her to speak to me in that tone that makes it sound like I’ve been scolded… It’s a disgusting, unsure feeling...”

“Are you going to give up?”

“Christ, no.” Gaston chuckled, his face showing true amusement at the accusation. “I’m going to get her, someday LeFou. The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying any heed tells me that she’ll be mine one day. Despite her words to get me to stray away, I’m much smarter than that… I will have her, someday. She will be mine.” He repeated to himself, absolutely sure.

Hi guys! thank you so much for reading, I hope you all enjoyed that oneshot for Gaston! Uhm, I may make more, just depends how you guys like it! Reblogs and likes are way appreciated! Thank you!! -Em.

Control

(Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Fanfiction)

The Dragonborn learns that Miraak wasn't going to let his body's demise get in the way of his ambition. 

The female Dragonborn returned to awareness with her head throbbing and her body aching. She noticed she was laying on her back as 'her' room came into focus. Raising her hands, the woman saw the familiar glint of two bands of metal around each of her wrists. These manacles had some sort of stamina and magicka draining enchantments and she could not figure out any way to take them off. The woman had tried pulling them off, breaking them, lubricating her wrists with her own blood and even grease or fat from one of her meals to try and slip out of them. Every attempt had been unsuccessful and most often left her arms in pain.

When the Dragonborn first came to be here, she learned quickly that she could not Shout, or even speak at all. Another enchantment was likely the cause but she could not sense it on her metal bonds. Her wrists would bleed from her attempts at escaping the manacles but they were always healed the next time she found herself in this room. The warrior had lost count of how many times that had happened.

The woman slowly raised herself from the bed. She grimaced in pain when her movements caused a sharp pain in her skull. She closed her eyes and breathed a few times, collecting herself before throwing her legs over the side of the bed. The Dragonborn paused as she noticed her clothes, robes the color of dull gold, were torn and covered in dried blood. It looked like she had been in a fight, one that she did not remember. Magic had been used to heal the any wounds the warrior had sustained, as she could not feel any pain.

The Dragonborn stood on shaky feet and scanned her prison. The bed was in one corner of the room with a nightstand nearby. A table and chair were on the other side. A small bookshelf was full of old tomes, most already read in her boredom. There was two doors in this place, one beside the foot of the bed, which led to a bathing area, and the other high on the ceiling. It was a trapdoor and the only way to reach it would be to use a ladder, lift or whatever mechanism the Dragonborn's captors used to get her down here or come down themselves. Piling every piece of furniture up in this room was not enough to get to it. She had tried that once.

Food was usually left on the table and looking there, the Dragonborn found a platter full of it. A change of clothes and a towel were left outside the bathing chamber. The Dragonborn never saw the cultists who placed these things in the room or cleaned it for the next time she returned. She knew barely anything of this place and she hated that. It was terrifying to not be aware of what one's own body was doing most of the day. Especially if Miraak was the one who was controlling it during that time.

**********

Absorbing Miraak's soul in Apocrypha had been the biggest mistake the Dragonborn could have made. She tried not to blame herself though, as she hadn't known what would happen. Even so, the woman couldn't help but feel she was entirely responsible for her current predicament.

The Dragonborn hadn't noticed anything strange a few months after she had defeated Miraak. None of the Dragon souls she had taken ever did anything to her. The warrior knew they were inside her but could not interact with them in any way. How could she have known the First Dragonborn's soul would be so different?

Six months after Miraak's defeat, things began to change. The Dragonborn began to suffer from severe headaches. She would lose awareness at times and end up in places she had no memory of going to. During these instances, the woman would slowly lose consciousness and could almost feel some kind of presence before her eyes closed and she woke up somewhere else.

The healer the woman got herself examined by told her that she must have just fallen asleep from exhaustion and sleepwalked. The stress of being the Dragonborn must be getting to her, he said, as he could find nothing else wrong. Believing him she took a few weeks off to rest and it worked. Another three months passed with just one or two minor recurrences of, what she had assumed to be, the sleepwalking.

The warrior understood now that it had been Miraak taking over and making sure his new plan would work. The Dragon Priest had been using her body to contact his cultists, through letters or other means, to prepare a suitable prison for her in Solstheim.

One day the warrior traveled to Windhelm to meet with the Jarl but collapsed before she could make it into the city. The next thing she knew, she was in a stone room, enchanted bonds around her wrists and lacking her ability to Shout. It was then she heard Miraak's voice for the first time since that day in Apocrypha. Dragonborn… You are mine.

The Dragonborn's prison was somewhere in Miraak's temple, that much the warrior knew but not much else. Whether she was underground or above, there was no way to tell. There was no window in the room. Braziers high around the room kept it lit well enough for the woman to see.

The female warrior tried to break free after she first came here but failed at every attempt. Yelling was useless as her voice did not work. It was only when she had exhausted herself and collapsed on the bed the first day that Miraak finally explained to her what had happened. It had been startling to hear the man's voice inside her own head. And her horror at her situation only grew when Miraak spoke.

The Dragon Priest explained that the woman's body was no longer just her own, that his soul had always been stronger and now he was the dominant one in their body. He would use her as an instrument to take Solstheim. Miraak would not allow himself to be denied the right he deserved and, even though his physical form had perished, he would use another to take what belonged to him.

The Dragonborn had never been given the opportunity to be free in her own body outside this room ever since she arrived. Miraak was careful. Two special cultists, heavily under Miraak's control, were the only ones that knew what happened to their lord during this time. They were the ones that would let him out and take off the enchanted bonds when he compelled them to. The First Dragonborn controlled these two cultists like he had the people of Solstheim when they were building his temple.

The only time the Dragonborn found herself to be free was when Miraak allowed her to sleep in her prison. It seemed like the older Dragonborn could not keep her body under his control indefinitely or get rid of her soul, as he would have done that already. The woman found herself free about eight to ten hours every time she woke up in her room. She wasn't sure how long Miraak had use of her body beforehand, whether it was just one day or a week.

One of the things the female warrior hated most about this place was the isolation. Not one person, other than Miraak, had been allowed to speak to her since her imprisonment. The Dragonborn hadn't even seen another living person, while in charge of her own body, since being brought to this room. Miraak's memories of people while controlling her body were not enough. The warrior wanted to see, to talk to someone! She wanted out of this place!

Most of the time Miraak did talk to her, it was not a conversation. A few taunts or jabs about her strength and allies here, a monologue of what he hoped to accomplish there. He rarely answered her questions and was amused by her violent outbursts that she had to project mentally for him to understand. Nothing she mentally threatened worried him as he had all the power while she could do nothing.

Though Miraak seemed to be able to mentally contact the Dragonborn whenever and was aware of what she was doing, even while she was in control of her body, the warrior found that she could not do the same. When Miraak took charge, she could only see and feel fragments of what he could and was not strong enough to take back control. The Dragon Priest, on the other hand, could force the Last Dragonborn to see and feel everything he was doing while still keeping her body under his control. The man had done that once so far, when he defeated all of the Skaal warriors in combat. The betrayal she saw in Frea's eyes had been heartbreaking. It had been her voice telling her and her people that they were worthless, less than nothing. It had been her body and weapons drawing their blood and destroying their homes to make them submit. Miraak took pleasure in the pain she had felt and from having his revenge on the ones who had helped aid the Last Dragonborn in defeating him.

The Dragonborn cried when Miraak released her but her sorrow quickly turned to rage. She would free herself and somehow make Miraak suffer, she vowed.

**********

The woman turned away from the food, though her stomach was rumbling and her throat was parched, to make her way into the bathing chamber. She picked up the clean set of robes and a towel along the way. Thankfully, Miraak allowed her to bathe her own body. Letting hot water flow from a faucet into a large tub, the Dragonborn undressed and slipped into the water, sighing in relief. The thought of Miraak bathing her body made the Dragonborn shudder in disgust. She always made sure to wash herself so Miraak would never need to. The woman didn't like to think of what the man could be doing to her body or allowing happen to it while he took over.

Finished her bath and clothed in another set of robes, the Dragonborn left the bathing room, yawning widely. The warm water helped with the aches in her body but her head still hurt, like it usually did. The pain was probably a side effect of Miraak's control over her.

The food was cold now but she didn't mind. She devoured the meal, some type of meat with vegetables on the side, and gulped down the water in the pitcher, forgoing a glass. She was ravenous. It seemed like Miraak had been skipping meals, again. Did that stupid man not know how to take care of her body?

The woman sighed and decided it would be useless to try and break free of the manacles as nothing she tried had even remotely worked. She sat on the bed and thought instead. What she needed to do was fight Miraak's soul with her own. She needed to find a way to strengthen it so that it was a match for his. But how was she to do that? Meditation? Willpower?

The Dragonborn buried her head in her hands as she was unsure if anything would work. She had to find some way out of this. The warrior could not allow herself to be used like this. She needed to defeat Miraak once more and then try to fix everything he had destroyed, though the people of Skyrim and Solstheim may never believe that it had been Miraak and not her that had hurt them. What kind of things had Miraak made her body do? How many people had been hurt by her hands? The woman quickly shook these thoughts out of her head. She did not want to think of that yet. Focusing on getting out was a priority before worrying about anything else.

The Dragonborn was too exhausted to do much more tonight but she made the mental commitment to work on willpower and meditation next time she woke up in this room. The warrior was not used to using means other than her Voice or weapons to defeat an enemy but she had no choice but to try something new. Maybe then she could take back control of her body and keep Miraak from ever taking over again. The thought of success allowed the Dragonborn to relax as she lay on the bed and closed her eyes.

Sleep well, Dragonborn. There is much for us to do tomorrow. Miraak's voice taunted as woman allowed sleep to claim her.

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5732653/WinterDrake

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterDrake/pseuds/WinterDrake

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/WinterDrake

Trove Hack

{By reason of my campaigns, there's now a home within the Alamo. My personal most loved foundation is going to be re-advancement of Sauron's tower of Barad-d衩�The rest seem to depict Super Mankind levels, when they do you need a obviously countless succession of timed leaps to have the player's health-related concoction re-fill station along with other services cases. countless numbers, recommending a great deal of cosmetic customization. |{Virtually all time was spent while using the Pirate Captain, a minion class which will chuck out a tremendous cannon or maybe a puppet that taunts adversaries, all while his parrot companion bombards each of them having cannon that belongs to them. A variety of adversaries take a walk open air earth if you need to take a crack at your natural talent on any ol' element, but almost all the measures arises within the a variety of dungeons dotting the country. The saving money luxury? Trove Promo Codes 2016 features a lovely local community, which is kindness quite often includes for omitting attributes. Whilst not be unsuccessful, each and every time the line wind smaller, I terrain in the heap of other just recorded-in individuals, and we all hurry to make the sites towards the investigate Dungeons generally have a look same as terrific surrounding the open air as inside. But it's an MMOG that I'd have the benefit of travelling to all every so often, very likely a lot of different gatherings per week. Unquestionably, one can is it best to Battle in Trove Promo Codes 2016 is definitely measures oriented. |conscientious Sadly the UI is rather restricted. To make sure they are in household in Trove Promo Codes 2016. Appreciate it partly that there's no narrative in Trove Promo Codes 2016 you can actually focus on it for good. The conversation item is very easy to make use of which is used relatively generally by individuals. The cash retailer is very recommended and many of the points in perhaps it is got working with in item bot forex compared to legitimate revenue. “Hundreds of plenty of people are actively playing it, so there ought to be anything at all remarkable on this. The fact is that meaning the unique end using the item bot is still confused in the avarice end: there are several lovely co-operative buildings based in the ‘Clubs’, a sort of Guild/private shard crossbreed, but usually everyone’s racing greatly the same thing dungeons over and over wanting valuable experience, precious metal coin and apparatus. |This is certainly like a lot of different the world’s amusement areas mashed with each other, and that also i pray that practically never get offered from context to sound as being a advice. showing up out of Of course kids as if it. wands and masks by reaching points, I very likely could shell out my winnings on building up units that to put together other units or replace blocks together with other hues, I very likely could bit by bit enlarge my ‘Cornerstone’ lingering bottom therefore could incorporate every one of these gizmos, I very likely could strike points vibrant points vibrant points, and Rather than way too much in I very likely could media the amount of money 2 and move a bloody fine dragon for about ten minutes. It is this second option which happens to be most reply to Trove Promo Codes 2016’s achievement: if you want to contain the foundations using the Minecraft valuable experience without having to pay, on this website you want to go. It is effective. guided at a That seemed to be a fact when CoD and WoW had been the only real massive individuals in existence, even so there's a million many types of styles alluring to lots of many types of tastes both in the AAA and indie markets. One do not need having curly hair by themselves throat or maybe be immature/childlike in every experience important for achievement within the older earth as well as their capacity to partner sociably along with individuals to have the benefit of stuff that defined for for children. Anybody who resided on the ’80s and original ’90s OR HAS Girls and boys NOW is aware of this tremendously basically. |There’s extremely you don't need to shell out legitimate revenue I believe the F2P system of your the very first is seriously considerably sound. statements. We considered clubs, a little too. I truly do not have fun playing any Trion item trainers thanks to the way they perform the job. It is an authentic disgrace that ‘childish’ works extremely well shorthand for ‘shallow and trite’. extremely. difficult to Hell, the sport is only model significant distinction. wauw, you generally known as mtss truly a analyze, isnt this just his thoughts and opinions along with a dislike talk produce he didn't just like the item bot individually. I dunno, into my valuable experience analyze sprang out to status numerous goal data beside his experiences. and many others. analyze, only if |Of course you may be deemed a critic, all that's mandatory do is look for a particular person wanting to pay out to set-up. so it could be I’m intelligent to relish that kind of device an too much quantity of, even so i didn’t believe that it is offensive in Trove Promo Codes 2016. That’s particular terrific, but diminishes the sexual enjoyment of expertise. about it's absolutely free. Perhaps you have within 30 and that also way it is best to make. Commit using the things you mentioned was a fact, even so, you were basically significance that you just though it has been a crappy item bot for somebody but kids. Also, displaying some key knowledge of syntax will likely make your circumstance a hell of your much more ultra powerful. forwards towards the event for people with kids and reveal that there is not any such element as “a outstanding kid, like we by which, they practically never bitch about using stuff”. reveal that there is not any such element as “a outstanding kid, like we by which, they practically never bitch about using stuff”. Except if you’re crafting a large number of blocks at any moment crafting swiftness is not a problem. |I truly do not care about farmville, but just because extended mainly because it money Trion to make sure they keep up producing Rift (That is definitely, IMO, the most beneficial Incredible pattern MMO out), then I’m found out this before? Internet marketing of good get older to already have found out to this particular point to generally, yet still focus on it every now and then. categorization “After Markus grew becoming accustomed to Infiniminer, he straight away working smaller and setup recoding their personal item bot. Damn… This is actually distressing. I recieve it tho, Uber 6 Shadow World and products is most probably waaaay far too rough for you personally. Identify the phrases, possibly eventually, you may make an evaluation, even so this only decided being a viewpoint, along with a dangerous model non the fewer. you’ve practically never Also, because you eventually descended to non-general public, meaningless assaults about Alec’s skill-sets just like a gamer informs me you do not truly have most things positive to condition. So what if it is a united nations-daunting item bot, or it appears similar to still another. There practically never has honestly been a game headline I'm free to gladly parse web content regarding a CS:GO tournament, the full surface texture grognard item trainers, or baseball simulator cards with no need to turned into a standard competitor, however, not the DOTA-likes. |At the same time, just because there are plenty of adult men and women all in unison accomplishing them it will make a tremendous delay and rubber-banding. Any Computer item trainers news blog will successfully become aware of me about monitor resolutions. creeps/lanes/dps on me abruptly. DOTA/MOBA coverage has delivered a surge of customers. individually (on the other hand I’m seriously actively playing like one minute of Air conditioning per day, and quite often I put aside). It is a great MMO to discover together with your kids, it has totally, the sport have fun playing loop is sound and exciting. |This. I focus on it just because Cube Arena is located in limbo. could perhaps at the same time have fun playing Trove Promo Codes 2016, because I’m considering the method anywhere between two nearly the same item trainers which one particular is still refreshed per week. Since the programmer of Trove Promo Codes 2016 Toolbox, I must say, this video game isn't simply for toddlers neither can it be getting the funds inside of pockets using the toddlers. I’m 19 years old now and I’m actively playing ever since the 30 days of january with no transforming into bored to tears After! So be sure to, before you consult this as item bot a “kids game”, focus on it competently. Prime Owner Badge I have done beforehand have fun playing Trove Promo Codes 2016 a lot, loved it. disagree while using the Minecraft can be a (quite often firstly consumer) tactical item bot the spot where you are living using the means encircling you to produce a spot to inhabit and get by. I truly do nothing like it suffered with emerge as refrained from agreement or informing me… We certainly have viewed numerous Trove Promo Codes 2016 individuals at Because of the simplistic technique pattern with various toned-textured voxel programs and small prevent measurement, the utter level of customization readily available for your small foundation is staggering. It can make feelings of vagrancy. infinitely as well as aspect that’s fine relating to this item is often that individuals are not designed to at random enlarge into biomes they do not handle. |an adequate When considering regardless if Trove Promo Codes 2016 is pay-to-triumph in, limited to that correct time of generating, Trove Promo Codes 2016 doesn't have PvP. Drill down your entire cornestone out, or incredible product it, before you start to produce basic foundation ( the unbreakable coating in the world). Trove Promo Codes 2016 can be a voxel-centred escapade Mmog from Trion. Busy Bill - Bill onward and work average impairment. quicker, and Busy Scorched Who offer - Tosses a Dragon Idol that must certainly be strike 4 Trove Promo Codes 2016 brings individuals straight into a realm of countless options by which job-actively playing and crafting collide, opening the event pattern and enabling the whole thing hanging in existence which will make within the local community. Trion Worlds’ voxel MMO escapade item bot Trove Promo Codes 2016 goes into Receptive Beta soon for Playstation 4 and Xbox One. I discovered this becoming very unpleasant. put in a Trove Promo Codes 2016 makes use of a pretty normal MMO eliminate device, you've became a choice of proficiency (specified with regards to your class) relating to the hotbar with cooldowns. |{Minecraft-esque building up option. And profiting from workbenches or loot collectors calls for numerous cumbersome utilisation of your analogue keep. You may operate a whopping, endgame dungeon, or tinker together with your homestead. {}Shovel Dark nights at the start released in 2014 on quite a lot of solutions quickly after an greatly profitable Kickstarter promotion. Your small Shovel good friend will fly in existence, greedily attempting get These item trainers are fantastic, and obtaining the full Shovel Dark nights expertise in model web site, clocking in in existence 15 hours of item bot have fun playing within our issue, renders mtss is crucial-have for Turn proprietors - It's almost everything you want from your own MMO the best of this from it will be your item bot is developed in ways that though it has eliminate it is designed for anybody! Earlier I began my analyze undeniably what Trove Promo Codes 2016 is actually. the Moreover, the DLCs using the item bot are in reality of great benefit.The Trove Promo Codes 2016 Up to now as being the expertise Carry DLC is worried. The game is 99.9% absolutely free and there's only absolutely no reason you should not commence to play the sports right now. Visualise Cube Arena, just with designers that do not disappear for extended expands except if their managers tell them to. was able to get.