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rotandguts · 1 year

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✶ ┄ CRAZY TOGETHER

danny (evil dead rise) x fem!reader

summary: during a quiet lull on that tumultuous night, danny realises this may be one of the last few moments he'll ever spend with his best friend.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ mdni, nsfw, sexual content, masturbation (fem receiving), mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of panic attacks, possession and death. praise kink if you squint, bittersweet best friends to lovers. mentions of underaged drinking.

A/N: helllooooo, so this is my first ever fic on this blog wowowowowow i'm nervous. i hope you all like it bc i am DOWN BAD for this mfer. pls let me know what you think!! DANNY IS 18 IN THIS.

publishing date ― may 17th, 2023 | © rotandguts

✶

Through all the horror and dread that had inevitably arisen from the events of the past few hours, Danny would argue that despite the demonic presence lurking in the hallway - it was the guilt of his own actions that was currently feasting on his soul.

The noises from beyond the bolted door of apartment 85 had grown to a momentary halt, the initial attack keeping everyone still alive on edge. Bridget was in the living room temporarily calming her younger sister Kassie with promises of a doctor coming to help their mother, hesitancy evident within her voice as she struggled to believe the words coming from her own mouth. Her wound on her cheek - as much as she had tried to ignore it - was starting to ache. Beth had been raiding the apartment for something to help her hand that the quick relief of duct tape was unable to provide.

And all this because he found that stupid fucking book.

The thing that was making the empty sick feeling in his gut feel like a stab wound of his own, was your lingering presence in the corner of his room.

You were here because of him. Regardless of the book or not, if he hadn’t insisted you come over that night for pizza you would be sitting across the city in the comfort of your own home right now. You could’ve been with your family when the earthquake happened. Fuck, they don’t even know if you’re alive right now.

Beth could now be heard stomping around all the windows in the apartment, shouting to anyone that could hear her that they needed help.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, Dan?” Your timid voice snapped him from his internal ongoing panic attack. His gaze, still concerned, softened when you turned around to look at him. It had been the first time you’d spoken in a long while, your voice providing an almost immediate comfort to the blonde boy. He began biting his nails with furrowed brows, a habit you’d usually chastise him for.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, eyes still on you. Your hands were trembling. Your hands were fucking trembling because of him, the thought led him unable to look you in the eyes momentarily. Tears began to form as you clenched your fists, trying to fight the breathless in your chest as it began to truly sink in how much shit you were in. Your phone had long been out of battery, with Danny dropping his in the vault where he'd found that book. Neither of you had been able to comprehend the necessity of the devices a mere few hours ago.

You were both essentially isolated from the world as you knew it.

Danny sunk onto the bed, sitting upright with wide eyes and quick breaths. You couldn’t bare to see him like this. Sure, was there a part of you that was totally pissed off at him for tempting fate with that old vinyl? Of course. But hell, the worst thing you’d been expecting was tetanus, not satan herself cooking eggs in the kitchen.

You approached his hunched over figure, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He still can’t look you in the eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You spoke with the same hesitance as Bridget in the connecting room. Danny was grown up enough to know otherwise, and yet still for a brief moment took solace in your words.

The mattress sinks beside him and when he turns you’re looking at him through wide, concerned eyes. Your clasped hands are still shaking, despite your best efforts to stop them.

His own hand hovers over them. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding when he finally clasps your hands with his.

Eyes connect in the moment, his own drop briefly to look at your lips. They’re a little bloody from you biting them. Your tongue skates across them, letting the metallic taste fill your mouth. The smell leaking through the damp walls of the apartment itself after the bloodbath caused by Ellie outside.

You might both die tonight, he thinks. This could be it. All those years of friendship over because of him. In fact, he thinks it might be even worse if he survives and you don’t, because he’d be haunting the earth still searching for you at every corner in his life. He considers it for a brief moment, mentally punishing himself with twisted thoughts for the hundredth time that night.

Danny’s stomach drops at the thought of the immense unsaid in your friendship. Every lingering gaze and hand hold, every hushed secret and late night embrace under covers. He lived for those moments, but it was starting to dawn on him that they may remain just that. Fleeting moments of will-they-won’t-they peppering your decade long friendship, the what ifs of tomorrow darkening overnight.

He thinks about the first time he knew he loved you. It was your tenth birthday, a milestone. Your mom had intended on throwing you a lavish party and inviting all the kids in class with the little money she’d had. You’d never been one for showing off or making a big fuss and insisted you just wanted Danny there. The night was spent huddled together in fancy dress costumes, he was a pirate and you were a princess, telling each other spooky stories from the safety of the pillow fort your parents had helped build. He wished this nightmare they were currently experiencing was just that, a spooky story told under the flashlight lit fort.

He could still remember the close proximity you both sat in. The quiet, different from the buzzing playground, had allowed him the opportunity to see you up close. There was something in your words that made his heart beat faster, and when your bright eyes lingered on him while telling your stories he knew deep down that he wanted you to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

You were looking at him like that now.

“Do you remember that night we got home from Oscar’s party?” Your voice was barely a whisper, he almost thought he had made it up in his head. All of a sudden he was very aware of just how close you now were.

Oscar, a classmate and barely a friend, grew up in the richer part of the city. Everyone jumped for a chance to go to his parties for his large pool and the flowing liquor, you had both jumped at the opportunity.

“Yeah.” Danny responded after a beat, still taking the opportunity to inspect your face.

That night you had partaken in your usual drunk hand holding and cuddling, nothing too different from what you’d do sober but with an added possessiveness. You had danced with him like you wanted everyone to watch you together, to know that you were his and he was yours. In those moments, lips had lingered for moments too long at ears and mouths. But ultimately, the night ended with your usual walk home.

If Ellie, Danny’s mom, had known you both weren’t tucked safely in bed in your house she would’ve called a search party to track you down through every nook and cranny in the city. Luckily, you both ended your night in bed by 4am.

“Do you remember what you asked me?” Danny spoke again after a short moment of silence. You were looking at the floor now, your feet occasionally grazing his.

“Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you ever kissed me, Danny?” You asked, he thought you were teasing him but you showed no signs of mocking. Pensive, you rolled to face him. He was frozen in place. The lights were out in your room and your bodies, undressed to different extents that you were both familiar with during an after party sleepover, radiating an addictive warmth that made him want to hold on to you skin to skin.

“I didn’t know that was something you wanted.” His fists were clenched, he was still waiting for this to be a big joke.

“I want it.” The light from the moon illuminated some of your face. He licked his lips.

“Why didn’t we like, ever talk about it after?” If tonight was it, he needed to know. He needed to tell her. He’d rather she hate him and be alive and know than be dead and have the wasted opportunity follow him forever.

“I was scared, I guess - I thought you didn’t like it.” You shrugged.

Soft lips on your own, hands gripping your waist under covers. You’re using all of your self control to not grind yourself into him. The only evidence left of your night together were various lilac bruises scattered on your necks. But neither of you spoke about it. So it was never brought up.

“I liked it.” For the first time tonight since the earthquake, Danny softly smiled. Your eyes lit up, returning the smile to him.

“You never said anything-“

“Neither did you!” He countered, the smile giving away that he wasn’t actually angry. You smirked and rolled your eyes, “Touché.”

As much as it embarrassed you to admit at a time like this, your thighs were pressed together at the thought of you and him that night. Both of you had been virgins prior to the encounter

His left hand tangled through your hair as lips danced, you can still remember how you thought you had a temperature from the summer heat and the sweat coating you both. From his gentle, wordless persuasion of a soft push, you were on your back and his frame was on top pressing into you. By instinct, your legs wrap around his waist and pull him in. His hips grinding to your core, it’s so messy and quick but you can barely think because his other hand is traveling to your thigh to pull you in even closer.

He breaks away from the kiss to trace his thumb across your jaw and your swollen lips. Eyes blown out and wide, jaw slack at the sight of him. You’re spread out under him, the material of your crop top and shorts seemingly oh-so thin now that you’re in this position. Your tongue appears to softly lick the digit of his thumb, his eyes almost rolling back at the sensation. He can feel your thighs clench together around him, seeking a temporary relief from the throbbing between them.

He thinks he might die if he can’t feel it, if only for a second.

Removing the thumb from your mouth, your face immediately portrays your disappointment with a slight pout. Danny lightly smirks, lowering himself down again face to face with you. He reaches down to your thigh, trailing the inside of your leg.

“Can I feel you?”

“I think I’ve been thinking of that night every day since it happened.” He admitted, soft smile lingering. You could feel something stir inside you. Here he was, your best friend, in his oversized shirt and silver chain. He ran his hand through his hair. “I dunno. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about it. And you.” Danny continues.

There was a fucking demon outside the apartment door and quite frankly all you could think about was how badly you wanted that silver chain in your mouth.

Your hand reaches for his jaw, which grows slack at your touch, his gaze seemingly possessed by the thought of you. The summer night heat from that encounter stirred inside of you again.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Apprehensive, you continue to trace your thumb over his cheek, until following his jaw and lips just like he had done that night. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long while.”

He was hypnotised under the touch.

“I love you too. I’ve always loved you. You’re my best friend, man.” Danny felt like fucking crying and you could tell through his voice. Was this a dream? Was that demon back to taunt him for all the time wasted?

He felt consumed by you, like in this moment his purpose was to do anything he could to make it all better. He leaned in to finally press a kiss on your lips, slow and still hesitant. You chase him for another when he pulls away, noses still connected and eyes closed tight.

You wanted to stay like this forever. His fingers laced with the hair behind your ear, grabbing a section and softly pulling. The involuntary moan that left your lips sent a shiver through him, he wanted more, more, more. Your neck was on display for him to reach down and attack with sloppy kisses and light teasing bites. He pressed himself against you, moving your back flat onto the mattress. His lips and tongue messy with your own, clashing to remedy the thirst for each other. Danny’s thigh pressing against your covered core, subconsciously leading you to grind against him.

“Danny, please-” When you were saying things like that, knowing that you didn’t know how much time you even had left together, he had to comply. It had felt so natural, it almost made him feel that guilty feeling again. Why hadn’t they just been doing this all along?

Lifting your skirt to expose the wet lace of your underwear, he asked the same question he did last summer.

“Can I feel you?”

Without hesitation you nodded, guiding his hands through the waistband. “Shit,” He paused for a second, raising his fingers back up to his mouth, spitting on them before returning them to their previous position.

The electric feeling of him on her clit, foreheads pressed together and eyes connected could make anyone forget about the horrors happening beyond the sanctuary of the doors to his room. His fingers filling you, curling and strumming to a syncopated beat, reacting only to your stirring beneath him.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet babe,” He was amazed at the feeling itself, your slick softness. You choked out a gasp, you groping him in an attempt to give him the same ineluctable pleasure he was giving you. He was too preoccupied with you to worry about anything he might be feeling, not when he was the one that got you in this situation. And besides, hovering over you when you looked this fucking good with his fingers stuffed inside you, that was more than enough for him.

“You’re so good, such a good boy.” He quietly whines at your words, pressing rough kisses to your neck again.

You tug his hair back to grant yourself a better look at him. His other hand wrapped around your neck, not restricting your breathing but still lightly grabbing it. When he could tell you were about to make a loud noise, the same hand swiftly moved to cover your mouth. Your eyes wide with his, silently watching each other desperate to moan.

The silver chain resting on your chest, its cold metal grounding you in the moment. “So fuckin’ pretty,” He murmured, still so preoccupied with the feeling of filling you.

“Needed you for so long Dan,” He bites his lip as his pace grows quick, your fingers finally finding their way around the chain that was taunting you all night.

“Thought about you every night. Couldn’t stop thinking about how fuckin’ wet you were.” It was true, in the shame of their last encounter he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Not when he’d been thinking about it for half his life. “Still so so wet baby.”

Looking at his arms, his tattoos and veins. The way they moved in and out of you, the glint in his eyes as he watched his own work. The overwhelming view and feeling lead to the inescapable wave. “Fuck, Dan, I’m gonna-”

And with that, he holds you tight as you hit your orgasm. Your hands fly to his hair and shoulders, trying to remain grounded as your back arches. “Fuckfuckfuck-” You try your hardest to whisper, but your heart is pounding and all you can feel is the dizzying sweetness of Danny all around you. You have to remind yourself that this is real, you’re real.

He watches you, your heavy breathing providing the soundtrack to the moment. He pressed a light kiss to the top of your breast that was on show from the top you were wearing, before moving back up to place a kiss on your lips. Lying beside you, staring into your eyes with a warmth you’d always thought was unimaginable but realising that it had always been there. It has always been him.

So for that moment, you just lay there. And yeah, there was still so much unsaid regarding their long friendship. But for now, in the uncertainty of the night, they’d managed to say enough. For the first time since finding that book, Danny would feel optimistic about the future, despite all the shit going on with his mom. For a second it felt like they could really do this, they could really be fine. If only they could make it to tomorrow, then everything else could be resolved. He could apologise to Bridget, he could ask you out on a real date. You could let your parents know you were alive, you could fix the mistakes of last summer and go all the way again with Dan instead of pretending it never happened.

Unfortunately, as optimistic as they currently were, tomorrow would not come for either of them.

#morgan davies #evil dead rise #danny evil dead #danny evil dead rise #danny x reader #danny evil dead x reader #danny evil dead rise x reader #evil dead #evil dead smut

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vampyrsm · 5 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FIFTEEN | SUGAWARA MICHIZANE

‣‣ Synopsis: Something terrible awaits the former Shogun's daughter, trapped in the maw of her enemy. The Shogun promises nothing but misery for one, and a marriage proposal for another. Eyes of blue see the true depths of her soul, and he bestows judgment upon her.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.3k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, descriptions of torture, descriptions of wounds, death, the Shogun has his own warning, as do the Zen'in clan, threats of noncon (it's very brief), misogynistic views, beatings with weapons.

Seas of rolling silver, a soft breeze that rolls along the tops of the Chinese Silver Grass, stray tops of the long flowering leaves fluttering along to be lost in the world. The grass is long enough to provide shelter, an open-topped enclosure away from the harshness of the outside world.

Your fingers brush along the feathered tops of the grass, watching it fall away and break away to float into the unknown. It was awfully peaceful here, a sense of serenity that could only be achieved in such a beautiful place. It has your lungs shrinking deeply to release a long breath, your muscles relaxing along with it.

The trees in the distance were a brilliant orange, leaves of Autumn falling away with the gentle breeze that rolled away. Autumn was always a favourite season of yours, to watch the leaves change colour and then to fall away when it was time.

A shifting in the grass next to you has your eyes drifting away from the golden horizon, and down to the man next to you.

Sukuna lays on his back, two hands tucked behind his head and the other two resting atop the lightly coloured kimono he decided to wear today. His face was the picture of bliss, his muscles entirely relaxed and if you looked close enough, the corner of his lips were lifted in a very subtle smile.

The sun painted him in a gorgeous softness, across his features and melted into the pink tones of his hair. His tattoos were such a stark difference to the light and yet he looked devastating. You wanted to reach out for him, to trace along those tattoos with the tips of your fingers until you could retrace them with your eyes closed.

Love. That’s what you felt for him. Fully and truly, you loved him with every ounce of your being. And that’s why it hurt to stare at him, to see the softness on his face that you knew he would never allow himself to feel. His chest barely moves beneath his kimono, a gentle exhale with an even softer inhale.

Then his eyes crack open, peering up at you through a squinted glance. The sunlight only amplifies the red of his eye, intensifying it until it looks like pools of crimson blood swirled there. The flecks of maroon were lost in the sea of red.

“Kill him.” He says, and his voice sounds like it’s a mile away. Like he’s whispering on the wind that brushes against the bareness of your face.

You open your mouth to reply, to ask him what he means by that, who is ‘him’. But instead, something icy cold washes over you from head to toe. Your body jolts at the sensation, and an ache blossoms in your upper arms and wrists. Your head slams back against something hard enough to cause your vision to swim momentarily.

Gone is the lightness of the autumnal sky and instead, you’re greeted with damp walls and dim lanterns. Your body shivers in the cold, and the sound of shoes on stone flooring has you looking around in the darkness. A man stands before you, a bucket in his hands that was most likely filled with the ice water that had been thrown on you.

“Welcome back to the Land of the Living.” He laments, chucking the bucket into one corner with a horrendous bang in the barrenness of the room. He takes steps towards you, and you can’t help but bristle.

You try to lurch your arms forward, to throw everything you have at him but you only move a few inches before you’re stuck in place. The metal tightly bound around your wrist hisses against your skin, or rather, it burns against the use of your cursed energy.

“Keep that up and you’ll have no hands left.” The man in front of you crouches suddenly, and you jolt at just how close he suddenly was. “So how about you relax, and listen to what I have to say.”

You lift your gaze from the long metal chains that you were bound with, and you smack the back of your head once again against the stone brick wall behind you. The man all but grins at your reaction, crystalline blue eyes dance with mirth.

Sugawara Michizane.

“Long time no see.” This close you can see the divine power that rests within those eyes, they swirl with something powerful and dangerous. Something that makes your stomach clench and that snarling darkness within bares its teeth in defiance of such power. “I bet you thought you killed me, huh?”

“No.” You manage to grit out the word. His cursed energy output was crushing, to say the least, and without your own to battle with his—it was like you were being crushed beneath a mountain.

“Oh?” He still smiles with white teeth, sharp canines on show. His hair is long, even in the bun he has it swept back in, stray strands flop over his eyes slightly when he tilts his head to follow your head when you droop in your restraints. “Did your husband tell you that?”

It takes everything within you to not spit in his face at the taunting tone of his voice, it certainly wouldn’t make your current situation any easier. So you let out the breath held in your lungs through a shaky exhale, and Sugawara seems pleased even with that. His eyes framed with white lashes dance between your own, and it’s no different to the first time you’d met him.

He’s not actually looking at you, but rather through you; into you. Picking you apart like a vulture would until it finds the juiciest part to eat.

Thankfully he doesn’t goad you further, instead, he stands up to his full height. You have to crane your head up to look at him, he wasn’t nearly as tall as Sukuna but even for a simple human man, he was exceptionally tall. Something about every aspect of him was different.

“You should thank me for being the one to wake you up.” He comments, brushing a hand over his hair to brush the stray hairs out of his face. You squint at the state of his hair, it certainly wasn’t the mandated style that the Shogunate had to adopt—he wasn’t a puppet of the Shogun, it seemed. “There’s a few people here who want to see if they can tame the demon whore.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t have access to your cursed energy anymore.” He scuffs his sandals on the floor as he drags the bucket back over towards you, flipping it over to sit down on it before you. “You have no way of fighting back. That’s how the Shogun wanted it.”

Bile burns at your throat. He wanted you completely helpless and vulnerable. A reminder of your position in the world.

“And you?” You try your hardest to not show the emotions that flitted through you. “Do you have no plans to break me?”

Sugawara is quiet for a moment, the light in his blue eyes a faint glow in the darkness of the room. You can feel the thrum of his cursed energy, it laps at your body like that of waves on the beach—he was reigning it in, he had no need to posture anymore.

He clears his throat, a shake of his head before his eyes dart down to look at the floor. “No. I wanted you dead, not because you were a traitor but because anything is better than being back in the hands of the Zen’in clan.”

“Then let me go–”

“Don’t be so stupid.” He snaps back in return, enough venom on his tongue to make your spine straighten. “You’re never leaving here. You’ll die here.”

“Kill me.” You seethe the words, jaw locking with the flex of it. Sugawara stares at you, the slight widening of his eyes tells you even he is shocked by your words. “Kill me before he makes a show of me.”

You don’t want to think of what you’re saying truly means. To die would be losing a part of yourself, you’d lose not just your life but Sukuna in the same breath. It pains you to even think the words, let alone speak them but it’s nothing but the truth. You’d rather be killed by a Samurai than paraded around by the Shogun until he inevitably mounted your head on a spike as a message—a message to those who harboured thoughts to disobey him, and to Sukuna.

“Don’t be foolish.” Sugawara snaps in retort, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “To kill you is the same as raising my weapon against the Shogun—I’d be as good as dead.”

The air grows uncomfortable between the two of you, a tension that could snap with the lightest of breezes. Your fingers curl into your palms painfully, the shackles holding you to the wall hiss at the flexing of cursed energy beneath your skin.

“Coward.” The word lands against his face with the bloodied spit that you aim in his direction. Sugawara rears back suddenly, gone is the composure of a Samurai and instead in his place is a man scorned. “I’ll kill you first.”

Sugawara moves far quicker than you can keep up with, it takes half a millisecond for him to cross the space between the both of you. Your head rattles for the third time since reawakening against the stone wall, a warmth blossoms there. His fingers are cold as they curl around your throat, and you can feel a buzz of something at the edge of his fingers.

He holds you there, just an inch between your nose and his own. His eyes are wide, the blue within almost blinding with how close he is to you. And despite how close he is, and how quickly he moved, his breaths are calm and collected. The energy that curls around his body protectively buzzes to life in the stale air of the cell, it bites into your skin and presses you further into the wall.

It’s crushing you.

Blood pools on your tongue, dripping from your mouth in strings of spittle when you grin up at Sugawara. That chained darkness within stirs awake, itching at your bones to be released. The shackles holding you whine beneath the pressure of both your own energy and the pressure of Sugawara’s.

Your lips tingle from the lack of oxygen, the pressure behind your eyes is nearly enough for you to concede—to give into the pressure and let it crush you. But Sugawara had chosen to bow his head to a Shogun he feared, a wolf with his tail between his legs is no wolf at all… instead he’s just a scared dog.

But as quickly as the pressure came, it was taken away. Sugawara takes three steps backwards and stands as straight as a metal pole. His energy vanishes as if it weren’t crushing you into the wall behind you. Your body sags immediately, the chains tug your arms harshly upwards and you can’t help but wince at the blistering pain already forming at your wrists.

“Lord Sugawara.” A voice calls from beyond the bars of the holding cell, and Sugawara holds his gaze over you for a few seconds longer before he turns towards the voice. “The Shogun has asked you to bring the prisoner to his private courtyard.”

You can’t see Sugawara’s face anymore but you see the stiffness in his shoulders, how he tenses even after nearly choking you to death. And you know not to show your own fear, to not bend beneath the all-encompassing icy feeling as the words settle into your mind.

The private courtyard. Away from prying eyes and lingering ears that may relay a message to his enemies.

“Very well.” Sugawara says with a half bow, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. The sound of footfall fades away until you’re left in the stifling silence once again. When Sugawara turns to face you again, his face is stoic—the blue in his eyes akin to that of a frozen lake, locking away any emotion that he may have felt just moments ago.

He’s uncaring when he pulls harshly on the heavy chains that hold you hostage, his hand wrapping them around his forearm to ensure you don’t run as soon as you get some leeway. A hand buries itself into your unkempt hair and yanks you from the floor, your feet protest against the coldness of the stone flooring.

“Hold your tongue and you may live to see another day.” The words are the only thing Sugawara says to you before he drags you from the cell, your feet struggling to keep up with his wide strides. Doors are opened before he reaches them, and you can only briefly glance over your shoulder to glance at where you have been kept.

You’d only visited the Zen’in estate a handful of times as a child. Your father had always preferred to live within the estate made by the Emperor, a housing estate fit for the Shogun but also could hold his hundreds of Samurai soldiers. But when you had visited the Zen’in estate, it was such a strange ominous feeling to step foot inside.

You weren’t heir to the Zen’in clan, and everyone sneered in your direction. Even as a child, hateful eyes watched you—as if they could see the future written on your very skin. Servants never looked at you, and the men of the family would often comment on how you’d be nothing but a child bearer for some of the lesser Zen’in family members.

Of course, your father had never been present for such comments. You doubt they would’ve said such a thing in the presence of the first Shogun, a man who had a warrior spirit like no other. Part of you wishes he was, to see the true wrath of your father at such a young age perhaps would’ve made the blow of his betrayal to you in the future much easier to swallow.

The stares of the Zen’ins are no different now, in fact, it may even be worse. Men snarl in your direction, spitting at your feet as you pass by and whispers of ‘demon whore’ is a reoccurring thing. You want to disobey Sugawara’s demand of holding your tongue and keeping quiet, these men were nothing but young boys who had been gifted a pretty sword.

They’d cower at your feet if they caught a whiff of the power that rumbles within.

A tug of the chains at your wrists has you stumbling sharply around a corner, the tatami mats are a nice change from the harsh stone flooring that lined parts of the estate. Light from outside streams through the open doors and windows, enough to tell you that morning had already broke but not how many days had passed since you were attacked in the village.

You take the moment to quickly glance over yourself, you were still in your kimono. The blood that had been fresh is now a near-black from how dried it became, the mud on your feet flakes with each hurried step you’re forced to take. Your wounds are healed, thankfully, the burns on your arms are non-existent and you wonder if you had done it yourself whilst you slept or if someone here had the ability to heal others.

Sugawara’s kegetsu shoes scraped against the tatami mats which each step he took. It was enough to draw your attention back to the man himself, you hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the dim lantern light of the cell. His clothes were made of the finest fabrics, you could tell that much. On his shoulders was a fine Mino; the cloak of straw swished with each step he took.

You wondered where he may have gone before interacting with you to wear such a thing. You’d only ever seen the samurai of the Shogunate wearing cloaks like that when it was raining, or when they had to venture into snowfall.

His traditional armour was stripped down however to the bare basics, you could spy the armoured sections on his upper arms and shoulders, as well as on his legs. He didn’t wear the traditional helmet however, the string attached to his straw hat was loose at his neck whilst the hat itself sat against his back. He didn’t look like he belonged in the Shogunate at all, you wouldn’t be surprised if he belonged to his own clan.

A man of his power wouldn’t bow to a Zen’in. Never.

The corridors twist and turn, the servants thinning out the further you stray away from the cells. The air is tense, even with the absence of cursed energy. You knew you were growing closer to your uncle, to the Shogun.

A large shoji door is slid open in front of you, and a tug on the chains at your wrists forces you to step over the threshold into the wide-open room. It was grand, for lack of a better word. It housed the Shogun, complete with his sleeping quarters as well as a large hearth and a multitude of shelves filled with scrolls.

It was just like your father's own personal quarters. Except your father had never, ever brought hostages into his home.

You’re dragged forward out towards the courtyard, it was much smaller than the main one where your uncle would hold an audience with his Shogunate and the surrounding villages. It was an enclosed space, cut off from the world, it was meant to be a place of relaxation and zen for the Shogun.

Instead, your uncle has turned it into a makeshift torture chamber.

Your uncle himself is standing at the edge of the wooden platform that looks down into the courtyard, and before him are two people. Bound and gagged, a man and a woman. They’re stripped naked, and immediately you can feel your stomach churning in discomfort as to what’s to come.

Slowly, Sugawara comes to a stop. His hand tightens around the chains slightly at the sight in front of him, and you can practically taste the buzz of his cursed energy when it flares momentarily before vanishing just as quickly. Wordlessly, he bows deep at the waist and in turn, drags down your chains which brings you stumbling forward in an awkward half-bent bow.

Except, you do not lower your head when your uncle turns around. He looks just like your father, a spitting image of his older brother. His face is cold, mouth a thin line and eyes darker than that of coal. His armour is absent, a clear sign that even in the face of the woman who had been housed with Sukuna for months is not a threat to him.

You want to make him choke on his own tongue.

“When they said you looked like a demon’s whore, I didn’t realise it was this bad.” The Shogun sneers at you, glaring down his nose where you still refuse to bow your head to a man like him. “I should cut your head off where you stand for such insubordination.”

Your lip twitches, a barely concealed curl of your lip in anger. The metal shackles at your wrists burn tenfold, whatever they had imbued into the metal is strong enough to completely nullify your ability to use your cursed energy—yet it still burns deep within, yearning to be released.

“But I have plans for you.” He says, raising a single hand and there’s a shuffle of feet from one of the cowering servants who drops a bow in his hand along with a dozen arrows. “You’re going to tell me just how to kill that bastard of a demon, and in return, you get to live.”

“And if I don’t?” You spit against your better judgment, and Sugawara spares you just a sideways glance once he returns to his full height.

“I think you’ll find yourself quite agreeable to these terms.”

His shoulders roll, and with it the haori he was wearing falls to the ground to pool at his feet. It’s effortless with how easily he pulls back the string on the traditional bow, the arrow lined up with the man on the left. Immediately the naked man quivers in fear, eyes wide and spit dripping from around the cloth gagging him.

So this was how your uncle was going to play.

“We’ll start easy, I don’t want to overwhelm your mind.” He snickers at his own words—a jab at the fact you were a woman, not because he was concerned for your wellbeing of being away for so long.

“Where is he?” Question one, and immediately you draw your eyebrows together. How did they not know where he was? Yorozu knew, which meant they knew where you were—...but they drew you away from the temple, they didn’t dare to step foot onto the temple grounds itself. Your Uncle glances over his shoulder at your silence, clearly noticing your confusion.

“He was sighted in the village after we captured you, but since then no one has been able to report back on his whereabouts. Given that you’re his… whore, we thought you might know.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The Shogun stares at you for a long tense moment, the bow in his hand creaks from the pressure of him holding the string back. “How unfortunate.”

The arrow whistles through the air, and immediately the man screams albeit muffled. You glance at the man, to find the arrow embedded in his thigh and the blood spills from the entry wound into the otherwise clean gravel below. The woman next to him wails too, her eyes puffy and red from crying—his wife. He had brought you a man and his wife.

“Fine. Tell me what he did to you.” Another arrow is drawn up, the string pressed against your uncle's cheek. He glares at you, and in turn, you glare back. Your silence is your answer.

A whistle and a scream, this time the woman. Her body convulses and you’re drawn to see the arrow had impacted her in the shoulder, the blood drips down between her breasts and pools in her lap. Her husband next to her screams for the both of them.

“How many sorcerers are under his control?” Silence. An arrow—the man’s stomach. He still lives.

“Is it true that he eats women and children?” Yes—but you remain silent. Your eyes never once leave your uncles this time, and you see the crack forming in his armour. He’s starting to lose his patience.

The arrow this time is aimed higher, and the sound is something only a dead body could make. It’s a thump, a tension that sits over the courtyard before a woman screams. It’s not a scream that could be put into words, a scream that comes deep from the gut. Pure agony, devastation and heartbreak.

The Shogun doesn’t break eye contact with you whilst he loads the next arrow.

“How do I kill him?” This time, it’s you who breaks. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, the grin on your face is something you’d seen on Sukuna’s face countless times—it was a demeaning grin, filled with malice.

“You can’t.” You snicker at the red of the Shogun’s face, his anger bubbles quickly. Sugawara at your side even shuffles a step backwards, his fingers still tight around the chains that bind you. “You’re too weak, all of you.”

The arrow is released before you even finish your sentence, the wails of the woman silenced before there’s an arrow pointed directly at you. The Shogun stands closer, the string drawn taut and his facial features are tight with anger.

You smile at him.

“General Jien,” Sugawara speaks up, bowing his head when your uncle's eyes flick towards the blue-eyed Samurai. “Killing her would be a waste.”

Jien Zen’in stays silent, his eyes remain locked onto Sugawara. His fingers twitch at the string, and surprisingly—you feel your heart lurch in your chest in a tinge of fear.

“Break her. Torture her, do whatever you need to. Lure the King of Curses in—she’s in good condition, there’s no evidence that she was mistreated.” Sugawara wets his lips, and you feel that darkness within snarl. “Clearly the King of Curses has only one weakness. Her. Kill her once we kill Sukuna.”

His words are worse than any wound you’ve ever received, it cuts deeper than any blade and is sharper than the arrow still aimed between your eyes. Sugawara had seen more than you anticipated, no doubt he could see the mixture of cursed energy within you—his eyes were something special.

And he offered your love for Sukuna up to the Shogun on a silver platter.

The Shogun laughs, his stance loosens and the arrow is lowered from in front of you. “I knew you were good for something besides those eyes of yours—” The Shogun grins, unaware of the bristling Samurai next to you. “Very well. I’ll have her sent back to her cell, and you can oversee the torture yourself. Make sure they don’t kill her, I don’t care about anything else.”

Sugawara bows deeply, the chains rattling and with it, you’re forced to bow. Instead of allowing your insolence to slip by however, you feel the bone in your calf snap. Your Uncle draws his leg back, moving much quicker than you anticipated—he too had a technique like your father's, like yours.

You crumble to the floor, your knees slamming into the wooden floorboards. Despite the stony mask you wore, you can’t help but scream in pain at the radiating ache that comes from your now shattered tibia. Your hands fall forward to try and catch yourself before your nose smashes into the floor, Sugawara does nothing but let the chain slacken lest you pull him down too.

Another crunch and your fingers are snapped beneath the wooden shoes your uncle wears. You scream again, and the Shogun laughs at the sound. You watch in horror when he grinds his heel into the ground, rolling it against your shattered bones and the skin that tore apart.

“What a beautiful sound!” The Shogun announces loudly, withdrawing his foot to allow you to see the damage to your hands. You can feel the burn of the metal at your wrists, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that thrums from your hands. “I like the way the whore screams, maybe I’ll come and visit her.”

Sugawara remains silent at your side, and you can feel the burn of his eyes on your hands. He did this, he’s the reason you’ll suffer beneath the hand of a cruel Shogun.

“Take her away. She’s bloodying the floor, who knows what she’s infected with.” The Shogun takes a step back, and you tense involuntarily at the sound of his shoes scraping on the floor. “If she’s reformed quickly, maybe you’ll want to marry her Sugawara. Strong children would serve me well.”

The pain is enough to ensure you hold your tongue, but the withering glare you send to the Shogun is enough to cause his spine to straighten. You hope when he stares into your eyes, he sees nothing but the date of his death and you as the executioner. You promise, no, you vow to kill him.

Sugawara’s hand buzzes against your back, and you can feel the burn of his cursed energy there. Not even he dares to drop his guard around the Shogun or you, for that matter. He helps you to your feet, and the pain shoots up sharply from the base of your heel to your hip bone. Your chest lurches with the pain, but you don’t gift the Shogun one of your ‘beautiful screams’—instead, you bite your tongue and stare up at him.

Before either of you can spit further insults and speed up the inevitable sentence of your death, Sugawara strides away. You’re forced to follow after, you hobble awkwardly on one good leg and another that burns with pain. You can feel the sticky wetness that drips down your calf, no doubt a bone has protruded yet that’s not enough to cause you to dip your head in defeat.

The corridors are still barren as you traverse them once again behind Sugawara, only the sounds of your grunting and heavy breaths. Sugawara doesn’t slow his pace to match yours.

“You’re a coward.” You spit once you’re further away from the Shogun, away from prying ears. “Nothing but a lowly dog who sits in the lap of a man who’d wear your hide as a coat if he could.”

“And you’re a foolish girl. If you told him what he wanted to hear you wouldn’t be dragging your leg behind you.” He snips back, an ice-cold glare over his shoulder is thrown your way. “And you’ll likely never wield a sword again. All because you’re a prideful whore. You truly believe Sukuna cares for you?”

“You do.” You retort, and Sugawara snorts.

“No. I just think you have something that belongs to the King of Curses, and he’ll want to ensure he gets it back.” That’s all the confirmation that you needed, Sugawara had definitely seen the vow or at least the outcome of it. He saw how your soul was tangled with Sukuna’s, how you were more valuable alive. You’d become Sukuna’s demise, a weapon to be used against him.

Your face hardens at that, just knowing you were to be used as a tool to lure in Sukuna sours your stomach. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t fall for it, but everything Sugawara said was true; you had a part of Sukuna bound to you. He would want that back instead of having it fall into the enemy's hands.

Sugawara doesn’t comment further, dragging you along behind him. The stares of the Zen’in clan are worse on the way back, they snicker and scoff at you. A woman who was meant to be strong enough to live beside the great King of Curses was reduced to nothing but a mangled mess. Your blood smeared across the stone floors, sank in between the cracks and not once did Sugawara stop.

The walk back to the cell is longer than it was on the way out, but once you get there, you instantly want to retreat back up those dreaded stairs. In the cells are three men, all of them with sickening grins and wooden sticks you knew to be training swords for children. Sugawara doesn’t falter in his steps, and the men all but part for him to pass by to allow the blue-eyed Samurai to reattach you to the wall.

With your back pressed into the cool stone once again, your arms spread wide at your sides and your feet trying desperately to touch the ground enough to alleviate the pain in your shoulders. Sugawara stands in front of you, with wide shoulders and enough height to block out the sight of the three men.

His eyes meet yours, and you see an emotion turning over in his eyes. He looked sorry. “Don’t fight them.” He whispers, masking his words with a rattle of the chains, double-checking you were securely in place.

You want to spit in his face, to curse him and his bloodline for daring to feel guilt for putting you in this exact situation. Instead, you keep your eyes locked with his when he takes steps back, the men behind him taking steps forward. You don’t once break eye contact with him, not even when the tall one with inky black hair steps in front of you.

A hand clasps around your jaw, rough calluses digging into your flesh there as he squeezes. Your jaw pops in protest, forcing your mouth to open and the man in front of you deepens his smirk into something that would be fitting of an Oni.

“The Shogun gave us special orders on how to handle you. We’re to break you.” Eventually, you drag your eyes away from Sugawara to stare at the man in front of you, you hope he can see the clawing darkness deep within you, you hope he can see his own death by your hand for daring to lay a hand on you.

However, he drops your head with a rough push into the wall behind you. Your brain rattles within your skull, and it takes everything within you to not let your eyes roll closed at the pain that radiates there. You barely get a second to breathe before something rips down your front, gone is your kimono that Sukuna had draped over you the night you had left the temple.

There’s a quick thwack through the air before the wooden katana collides with your stomach, you feel the skin break and tear from the sheer force of the hit. Your stomach lurches, and your body twinges with pain. Two more hits come swiftly after, each one from a man in front of you.

They all laugh at the way your body curls inwards on itself, and how your hands uselessly grab at the chains, uncaring for the bones that are snapped and exposed, which hold you up as if they’d somehow hoist you up and out of the way. A wooden crack of a katana against your thigh has your chest tightening, another across your breasts is enough to make you shriek in pain.

Your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip, the blood there tastes like acid on your tongue. Putrid with your failure, you had fallen for their trap. You had given yourself over to them so easily. You were the only one to blame, and you could only hope Sukuna stayed far, far away.

The skin across the front of your body blossoms with bruises and open wounds, your skin mottles and bleeds with burst blood vessels. But beneath all of that, you can feel the curling warmth just under your skin. It tries minutely to heal the damage done to your body, but the damage coming at you outweighs how little you can heal at a time.

You’re unsure how long you stay there strung up to the wall like a piece of meat, but the three unknown Zen’in members have taken an interest in using their fists and the hard wooden soles of their shoes to see who can make you scream the loudest. A crack across your face has your head reeling, the cool stone of the wall behind you is a welcome reprieve against your split cheek.

Their jeers and taunting comments are like waves of rocks, you hear nothing but the bashing of your blood in your body. The pounding of your heart against your ears is deafening, the rapid beats futile in trying to replace the blood lost.

A hand sinks into your hair, pulling harshly at the roots until you’re yanked forward to face the man in front of you. His face is speckled in your blood, and his eyes are wild with sick pleasure. “Is this why that bastard kept you around? You’re nothing more than a piece of meat—good for nothing but a good beating and a nasty fuck.”

You want to frown at his words, to show the clear disgust and disdain you feel for his words but your face is numb. The muscles in your cheeks burn with pain and you can hardly see out of the black-eye one of them had graciously given you with a swift right-hook.

“Maybe we should see just how good you are.” His tongue peeks out from his mouth, wetting his lips as well as swiping up the blood there. When he grins, the red is spread across his teeth. “Everyone knows the best way to make a woman obedient is to give her a nice thick cock—”

“That’s enough for today,” Sugawara calls from the other side of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is a mask of stony coldness, not an inkling of disgust for what he had to witness for God knows how long. “The Shogun doesn’t want her ruined. She’s to be my wife.”

All three men glare over their shoulders at Sugawara, but evidently, he must hold a higher rank in the Shogunate because they back off immediately. But not without a quick puckering of lips and spit landing on your body, seeping into open wounds and stinging against frayed nerves.

The cell is plunged into familiar silence, a welcome change from the sound of your flesh and bone breaking beneath fists and wooden training swords. Your body visibly sags against the wall, your brain fuzzy enough to stop you from flinching when someone crouches down in front of you. His hands are gentle at your wrists, loosening the chains in the hoops so you could rest fully on the ground.

Icy stone bites at your bare flesh, yet you cannot find it within yourself to flinch or air your discomfort. Sugawara brushes the hair out of your face, pulling strands of it free from your slowly healing wounds. He doesn’t comment on how you shouldn’t have access to even that part of your cursed energy, perhaps he had truly felt guilty for what you had been put through.

He sits with you, in the damp darkness of that cell. He doesn’t move away when you finally cry, the tears a coppery saltiness that stains your lips and drips from your chin. Instead, he lays a scratchy blanket over you—more of a sack than anything but it’s enough to save your modesty, if there was anything left to save.

You don’t remember your eyes closing, nor do you remember Sugawara sitting outside of your cell that entire day, and the following night to ensure no one had come to finish the job.

...

The previous day…

Snow dances and twirls beneath heavy feet, flakes of pure white nestle into pink hair and settle against broad shoulders. The village is silent, nothing but a whistling wind that blows through the ruined buildings.

Sukuna stands silent in the village, Uraume only a few paces away with their hands bundled within the thick sleeves of their robes. It had only been a matter of hours since Sukuna had tracked down the trace of your energy, it was faint as if someone had tried to cover up your tracks. But Sukuna could recognise it anywhere, after all, it was mixed with his own.

His feet come to a slow stop, and he glances down to the body partially buried beneath snow. They have no head, and it reeks of death already. He can see the traces of your energy here the most, impacted in one big puddle as if you threw everything at this unidentifiable body.

You put up a fight, a good one. Sukuna couldn’t help but feel pride at that, yet there was something that buzzed uncomfortably at the back of his mind. You were strong, yes, and you had done a decent amount of damage with your cursed energy. He can see the deep divots where you had used Cleave and Dismantle in equal measure against those who had trapped you in the village.

That discomfort at the back of his mind makes itself present when he takes a deep breath in, the mingling of scents and cursed energy burn at his nose. Only one person in the entirety of Japan could hold such divine power, one he had warned you about in the past. You weren’t meant to go up against Him alone, Sukuna was to be at your side—the both of you together would’ve been unstoppable.

“Show yourself.” Sukuna calls over the raging winds, his eyes still locked onto the fresh scorch marks that mar the wood of the dilapidated buildings.

Slow steps crunch against the snow, a dragging sound that could only be identified as someone dragging their long kimono through the snow. Sukuna lifts his head, and his eyes lock with gelid ones. Yuki Onna is otherwise flawless, there’s no hint of the horror that lurks beneath her skin and yet her lips carry a frown that looks awfully wrong on the face of such a woman.

Yuki Onna comes to a stop, with enough space between herself and Sukuna. Good, he thinks, she respects him enough to keep her distance.

“What happened here?” Sukuna demands, and the snow-like woman finally drifts her eyes down along the body on the floor, and again over the snow in the distance that looked undisturbed since the snow had begun to fall again.

“She didn’t run.” Yuki Onna starts, her voice like claws on ice. “I warned her, she did not listen.” Her words end in a hiss, and Sukuna only deepens his frown.

“Who attacked her?” He probes instead, all four of his hands itch to sink his claws into the cursed spirit and demand answers immediately.

Yuki Onna shifts on her feet, turning to glance again towards the undisturbed snow as if she could see just who or what had unfolded here. “A woman, with hair as pink as cherry blossoms. And men, only two survived. They tasted of deceit and ash.”

Sukuna’s chest rumbles in distaste. He had an itching suspicion that the Sun, Moon and Stars squad would be involved in your capture. He had only heard of one name, a woman with pink hair as described by the Yuki Onna. Sukuna knew much about the assassin organisation, it was a place for those who stripped themselves of names and held only names attaining to the solar system.

Except one. The woman. Takako Uro. Sukuna knew her, of course he did. He knew too that she would be dead at the hands of her own sooner rather than later, her name was a death sentence. To be named in a nameless group was to have a target painted on your own back.

He doesn’t bother to thank the cursed spirit for giving up the information, instead he turns abruptly on his heel and stomps his way back through the snow towards Uraume. The aforementioned raises their head again when Sukuna approaches, casting a short glance towards the spirit in the background who drags the partially destroyed body away into the shadows of the burnt out village.

“I need you to find out where the Five Empty Generals are currently hiding. Yorozu will be with them.” Uraume bows deeply at his command, but before they can leave he continues. “And find me Kenjaku. Her sudden absence isn’t unnoticed.”

“As you wish, Master Sukuna.” Uraume disappears in a flurry of snow, an icy chill blowing along with their cursed energy.

Sukuna remains standing in the village for a moment longer, his fingers automatically lifting from the warmth of his kimono sleeves to brush against deep cuts into the rocky surface of what was once a reinforcement wall of the village. It buzzes at his touch, and he can just taste on the tip of his tongue the amount of power you had thrown in this direction.

Those long claws at the tips of his fingers curl into the stone, scraping painfully loud before his hand is a tight fist. Sukuna couldn’t feel you anymore, that part that lived within him was quiet and dormant. Not dead but resting, locked away where he couldn’t utilise it.

Wherever you were being held, Sukuna couldn’t feel you. That slither of himself entwined with your own soul was absent, nullified by something stronger than himself.

The wall beneath his fist cracks and explodes, sliced haphazardly into nothing but dust and rubble at his feet. He would get you back, even if it was the last thing he did—he would ensure you were back with him, safe.

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

Between the Lines || XVII

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / WandaNat x Fem!Reader Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life. [Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warning: canon-level violence.

TATYANA'S NEW CHARACTER FACE

Note: What a long hiatus! Glad to be back <3 hope you all enjoy this wild chapter! Please remember taglists are gone but you can follow my library blog for notifs! <3

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Library Blog || A03

PART XVII of XX

Count: ~8.5k

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The air smells different.

You expected it to. The landscape has changed after so many years, but it has still thrown you off kilter. You haven't returned to Tatyana's grave site in many years. It was cowardly, but you just couldn't.

You didn't feel like you had the right to. It felt wrong to have killed Tatyana and then sit at her grave and mourn. She would've loved it, though, and she'd probably want you to sit there uncomfortable and discontent. As much as it would've been a part of your punishment, you only visited a handful of times throughout the first couple of decades. You had less time once you encountered David, dealing with his newborn tendencies.

"So, what exactly are we looking for? A gravesite?" Tony asks, his helmet coming off momentarily as he surveys the area. It looked like a quaint little town. Modernized with time, but it was still out in the countryside. The air was still brisk, but it was warming with springtime emerging. You hear children and their parents preparing for the day in the distance, and it’s rather nostalgic.

"No," you shook your head. "I didn't bury her near anyone. I don't believe the villagers would've accepted having their murderer buried amongst their dead. There had been a flower field miles away that I laid her to rest at." You look around. "Although it's hard to tell if it will still even be there or if something was built over it."

"Can't you, like, I don't know—smell it?" Tony gestures at nothing in particular.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not a bloodhound. This was centuries ago, there'd be nothing left to smell even if I could pick something up this far."

You keep walking, leading the group, because you smell something even if you can't smell Tatyana's grave. You have yet to mention it to the group since you're unsure what it could be and don't want to get everyone more riled up when they're already so tense.

The moment you walk far enough between towns, an area excluded away from civilization just past the trees, something inside you clicks.

"It's here," you furrow your brows.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asks.

"I—" but you can't finish the sentence as there are a thousand footsteps at once. On the other side of the clearing, vampires are marching.

"Shit," Steve says.

"Language," Tony says, but it lacks its teasing tone.

Everyone buckles up, raising their weapons as the vampires begin to pick up their pace into a run toward you. You and the team begin to run to meet them, but before either side can reach the middle, there's a strong blast of magic, hitting the ground and nearly splitting it.

"I don't remember giving orders to move."

You smell her before you see her.

Spice and hydrangea override your sensories.

All you can smell is her—the memories. It's the smell of eggs, slightly burnt cinnamon, herbs, the laundry, the river, and grass, and no one could ever understand it, but you could smell the warmth. You smelled somewhere—someone you used to call home.

Smelling her just felt like you were losing everything all over, and to see her? Your breath hitches in a way that feels like it's slicing against your lungs.

"Fuck," you murmur. "It's really you."

Tatyana descends upon the field, her soldiers parting to make way for her. She looks just the way she did those few blissful weeks before everything went downhill—before you lost her. Her defined cheekbones, mauve lips, and sage green eyes that felt like she could always see right through you.

The field was noisy, settling down into a quiet murmur, but none of it mattered. None of it matters because Tatyana's eyes held yours as she looked at you as if it was just the two of you on the field.

"My love," her husk voice whispers, but you can hear it clear as bells.

You feel like you're being constricted, her voice and eyes strangling the life out of every thought you could have possibly been having that wasn't about her.

Natasha watches the scene unfold before her, unsure what to make of it. She hasn't ever seen you like this, even as you talked about her. But perhaps this was the issue. You always talked about her in a past-tense fashion. Tatyana had been nothing but a wounded memory that left scars all over you. Even when you encountered her previously, she was always in someone else's body.

But now, she was in front of you, clearly alive and unchanged. Seeing Tatyana must've brought you back to the 1600s just before everything went awry.

Natasha looks over at Wanda, who's struggling to decide what she feels. There's a definite burning hatred there. Wanda wasn't sure she could ever forgive the manipulations and the last encounter. And for a moment, she hated that she had done the same to others with her powers. Yet, there was a displaced longing. This woman was related to her by blood—another family member when she thought there was just Pietro.

"Sveti kurac," Pietro curses. "She really does look like you."

Tatyana turns her head then towards the twins, assessing them. "How misguided," she sniffs with a crinkle in her nose. Her accent is thick as she says, "she looks like me."

Wanda bristles at the tone and words. She could practically feel Tatyana's insinuation that Wanda was a poor imitation to replace her. She narrows her eyes, conjuring up her magic.

"Feisty," Tatyana chuckles like it's some kind of joke. "It's precious you think you can beat me, child."

Heat floods Wanda at the condescending tone.

"I had the upper hand on this battlefield," Tatyana cocks her brow. "Don't tell me you fools came here thinking I wouldn't have cast runes all over this place."

"My magic's still working, is it not?" Wanda smirks as she raises her hand, sending a blast of magic forward, only for it to make it out a few feet before fizzling away.

Tatyana bursts out laughing, hand over her mouth before she slides it up her face and through her hair, smirking. She turns to look at you, "I know the alternative to you not showing up here would've been devastating, but you were a bad girl, not preparing them more to come here."

You were stricken but trying to gather yourself and not show it. You take a deep breath. "What exactly is it that you want?" You stare on with no emotion.

It's then that Tatyana's expression changes. Gone with the amusement, and in came the narrowed anger. Her eyes narrowed, jaw clenched with a pinched brow.

"Don't ask ridiculous questions," she hisses at you.

"What?" You taunt her. "Don't tell me you're still chasing your delusional ambitions of ruling the humans." You look around, gazing at the improved artificial vampire army that seems to hover, just waiting for Tatyana's command. "They're better than the last batch, but they'll never be the real thing."

"I don't need them to be the real thing," Tatyana cocks her brow. "I just need them to get the job done." But Tatyana doesn't reveal exactly what job that is.

You pinch your brows, trying to appear annoyed rather than shaken. "Tatyana, just—stop," you sigh almost pleadingly. "Let it go. Let go of your anger at the humans."

But Tatyana just laughs, and it's hollow sounding. "You must not think about me at all anymore if you think I'm angry at the humans."

"Angry at me then?" You push. "There's nothing I could ever say to justify what I've done but I think the punishment you've left me and the fact that I'll live with what I did for the rest of my life is enough."

Tatyana just shakes her head. "I'm not going to talk about this here with you," she says and holds out her hand. "You've had your fun, and I've indulged your dalliances long enough. It's time to return to me."

There's a moment when you hesitate. There was a time in your life when this would've been all you wanted. You felt like you were walking around with half your spirit carved out for a long time. You missed Tatyana so bad some days that you wanted to join her, if not for Leo and then David. You would sleep if only to dream about a life where you and she had everything. Sometimes you would stay awake to avoid dreaming. Tatyana had been the rising and falling of everything to you.

But—you take a deep breath—that was just a moment in time.

"No," you tell her softly, but you know everyone can hear it. "That time of our life is gone, Tatyana."

"Don't make me ask twice," Tatyana calmly states, keeping her hand out, but there's a wisp of blue around her finger as she curls it, beckoning you.

You feel the magic jerk you forward, and the titillating of your center of gravity throws you off from fighting it. But before you can move further, Natasha and Wanda grip both sides of your wrist, grounding you.

You look gratefully at the two, your eyes soft as they smile back at you.

The intimacy of it brings a wave of white, hot anger into Tatyana. "How dare you interrupt us," she hisses.

"You made it everyone's business by bringing us all out here," Natasha gives her signature raised brow. "And it's certainly mine and Wanda's business. Hasn't anyone ever told you no means no? You're almost no better than a man at this point."

Tatyana narrows her eyes at Natasha, disgust written all over her features as she glares at the redhead agent. But she doesn't say anything, as if deigning that Natasha wasn't worth speaking to, let alone her time.

Suddenly, she snaps her fingers. Without words, the army of vampires begins charging again, and everyone has their hands full. Natasha and Wanda have to let go of you to beat off the crowding vampires, but the short moment of their hold has you able to stand on your feet again. Tatyana can't use her magic to try to pull you again, not when you're used to her magic and can throw it off.

Everyone's holding their own, and Tatyana seems to be refraining from joining the fight, and you're still trying to figure out why. You look around, and Wanda can only cast magic within a few feet of herself, meaning she has to be close to her enemies. Natasha's style of fighting naturally is close range. For the most part, everyone's is. With the exception of Pietro, who can run circles around everyone, and Tony, who can use his suit to fly, everyone is bound to the ground.

Tatyana seems to realize this within minutes of watching everyone fight. She uses magic to conjure something in her palms before sending multiple blasts toward Tony's. They hit him in quick succession at his feet and back. He can't move out of the way in time, busy above trying to shoot off two vampires on Steve's back. Nothing happens immediately. But then, roots begin to grow out from the bottom, breaking the repulsors in his feet, and he starts to drop from the sky. He tries to engage the jetpack in his back but nothing comes out.

Tony instantly begins trying to use the repulsors in his hands to slow the fall, but he isn't flying high enough from the ground. He's going to land right into a horde of vampires waiting to rip him apart. Tony could send missiles to kill them, but he might get caught in the blast.

"Tony!" Steve yells, using his shield to brutally jab into a vampire's shoulder over and over to release his leg. He starts running, but Steve knows he's not going to make it in time, and it's chilling.

"Steve!" Pietro yells as he begins to run. "Hold your shield up and brace yourself!"

Steve doesn't even hesitate. The time spent hunting for Bucky with the young man has earned his trust. Pietro barrels into Steve’s back, keeping his feet planted on the ground as he uses his powers to run the both of them. Steve's shield barrels into the group of vampires, knocking them over with a brutal force from the speed.

When it looks like just the perfect spot, Pietro stops pushing Steve before grabbing his shield and using it to slam into the rest of the vampires surrounding the area.

Steve catches Tony, but it knocks them both to the ground. You can hear the wind being knocked out of Steve's lungs, but it doesn't sound like anything is broken.

"Just for that," Tony sounds breathless. "I won't make fun of you for a week."

"At least two weeks, Stark," Steve huffs as the two get up.

Natasha only catches moments of it from the corner of her eye. She must be careful not to let the enemies in front of her land a blow. Wanda's got her back, but she can tell it's frustrating the young witch her powers are being limited.

"I have to find where she cast the runes," Wanda says. "If I can, there's a chance I can destroy them and get my full magic back."

The advantage of that would be overwhelming and could lead them to a possible victory. So far, Tatyana has refrained from joining the fight, but they might all be fucked if that ever changed.

As Natasha wraps her legs around a vampire's body, swinging her way up as she locks his neck in, she uses her widow bites to stun him as she works her way into breaking his neck. She uses that moment to look at how David and Liam are faring.

David is easily holding his own, watching out for Liam, who stays at the back as support with his alchemy. He seems to be attempting to cast a big spell.

Tatyana sneers as she realizes there's an alchemist amongst the group. "William! Are you going to stand back and have me do all the work?"

You tense, expecting something to shift. When nothing happens after a moment, the tension in your shoulders relax just slightly.

Suddenly, the air changes.

When a man—no, a predator—steps out from behind a tree, you feel something horrible.

If seeing the predator in you could make people feel the hair on the body stand, seeing him was like having the first layer of your skin peel off.

"No need to get yourself in a huff," he rolls his eyes. "You're losing your touch, dear. You can't even take care of a few measly enhanced humans and two vampires?"

He was tall and muscular but not overly so. He had long black hair that would've been popular during the olden days, just sitting at his shoulders. He looked unassuming, but you knew better.

"Don't call me dear," Tatyana snaps at him, but he ignores her.

Williams looks at you. "Hm," he hums. "You look familiar. Did I change you? But your venom doesn't quite smell like mine."

But you're wordless.

All these years...these centuries, and this has never happened to you.

You've never bumped into a vampire older than you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

William changes the battlefield. What once might've been a possibility of winning quickly becomes closer to being annihilated. Both you and David team up to take on William, trying to be more strategic than using brute power that you both know won't win.

Everyone's busy handling their own fights, but they can't help but watch for the first time to see you outclassed. You brought your elbow into William's rib while David had him in a headlock. Natasha knows that the force alone should've obliterated the bones into dust, and it would've if it were anyone else.

But William merely grunts as he whips the back of his hand into your face, the force of it knocking you miles and miles away into the distance, breaking trunks of trees as you hit them.

Natasha and Wanda scream your name, horrified. They try to take off after you, but suddenly a horde of vampires conjugate into a wall in front of them by force. They look up and see Tatyana floating just above them, smirking.

They all knew this was a possibility, that this was what Tatyana wanted from the beginning. Yet, seeing it happen and being so utterly unable to prevent it is devastating.

"No!" Wanda yells in desperation. She turns around in circles frantically, looking for where Tatyana would've placed the runes.

Natasha's trying to formulate a plan. If she uses her grappling hook, she can try to aim at the trees over the vampires. She might break a leg, but it was better than nothing, wasn't it? It was better than not doing anything at all and watching you be taken.

"I told you, you stupid, little human," Tatyana sneers. "You're only meant for one lifetime and that lifetime is over." She uses her magic to begin toppling the vampires down towards them, meaning to crush them.

Natasha instantly turns to Wanda, running towards her and grabbing her before using the grappling hook. Pietro seems to notice them immediately as she shoots toward him. He moves out of the way of the hook that doesn’t catch anything but grabs onto the rope. With all his might, he runs with the rope, yanking it harshly to get them out of the way of the falling bodies.

Wanda holds onto Natasha tightly, using her magic to create a barrier around their bodies to protect their necks and any damage done to their bodies as it hits the ground.

Wanda wants to sob at the realization that you're gone. Natasha doesn't even feel like she has the time to process it as she watches William grab onto David's arm, crushing it under his grip.

David lets out a painful hiss as his grip loosens, and he's flung from Williams' back into the ground. It cracks as a tiny crater is formed where he lands. David can instantly feel all his ribs break, his legs are mangled, and the back of his head in danger of cracking.

William turns back to where Tatyana took off, stunned that she had simply left and wasn't coming back for him. Rage overtakes his face as he realizes he's been abandoned.

"David!" Natasha yells, running towards him, but he screams at her.

"Don't you fucking dare come closer!" David yells, and it's the first time she's heard him curse like that. "Get out! Get out of here now!"

Natasha wants to scream that she can't—she can't just leave him there. You'd absolutely hate her for it. David seems to think something similar: you'll hate him if you let Natasha and Wanda die here.

This line of work has always taught Natasha there were sacrifices, and you had to live with them. You don't get to question someone else's sacrifice. This was a losing battle, and the only way to survive was if they got to the Quinjet now.

But by the time that happened, what would be left of David? Could she get his brutalized body back from William so he could recover? There has to be some blood bags on the Quinjet, and she could give him her blood if not. He'd heal. He had to.

The idea of recovery gets shot to shit when William pulls out a wooden dagger. And they all know what it's made of.

William means to end it and end it permanently.

"Go!" David yells as William steps closer, hovering over David with his two arms raised, holding the dagger.

Natasha doesn't want to watch, but she can’t tear her eyes away. Wanda's summoning her magic even though she knows she's too far away, and angry tears are spilling out of her eyes. Pietro starts to dig his heel into the ground towards David. Steve throws his shield to the speedster, who catches it with ease. Tony uses one hand to attack the vampires between him and Steve while his other repulsor is pointed towards William, charging up.

Willam's speed nearly matches Pietro, his hands coming down so quickly.

It's over.

God, it was fucking over.

Hiss.

It was small at first. But then suddenly—

CRACK.

The entire field is lit up, lightning and vines zipping through them at an unstoppable force. They take hold of every artificial vampire in the area, grasping them in a vice-like grip. The lightning surrounds it in a second hold, squeezing tighter and tighter until they disintegrate.

William only pauses momentarily at the change on the field before a blur barrels into him ferally. The air leaves his lungs with a grunt. He drops the dagger on the ground, and Pietro scrambles to grab it and take off.

With no artificial vampires left on the field to battle, they all scramble toward David to help him.

They all watch, stunned.

The two bodies rolled on the ground over and over until William landed with force on his back.

And Liam on top.

Liam's eyes were pitch black, and his fangs bared as he snarled at William, snapping his jaws at him. William was surprisingly having a difficult time pushing Liam away, and it seemed Liam was using all his strength and alchemy to force William down.

It wasn't until Liam managed to bite into William's forearm that the man let out a piercing scream as poisonous venom was injected into him. Liam held tight, nearly taking a chunk out of William's arm before he released, biting again just a few inches over.

William began punching Liam in the head with his other arm until he was released. He crouches his legs in, pressing them against Liam’s pelvis as he uses them to knock Liam off of him.

Liam gracefully flips over and lands on his feet. Blood spilled out of his mouth and down his chin as he stood, and he wiped it away on the back of his hand.

"Leave," Liam growled, his eyes still black. "You won't win today."

William considers staying to fight, but he looks at the vines, still moving around. Also, the venom in his arm still pulsates with burning pain. He sniffs. He needs Liam's venom to reverse it; it's not his—

But then William narrows his eyes.

"You."

Liam doesn't respond to it, merely repeating, "Leave."

William snarls at the loss.

“Your venom,” William spits. “You know I can only delay the inevitable.”

Liam nods and they both tense as he blurs over to William, biting his hand before he runs back to create distance between the two.

William only gives him a withering glare before he turns and disappears.

Liam turns, and they all watch, slack-jawed. His eyes are still black, and it makes everyone's hackle rise. But it's like he doesn't register them; he just keeps walking until he's kneeling in front of David.

Liam assesses the damage to see if his venom can fix it temporarily. When he determines it can't, he bites deeply into his own wrist. When he releases, blood starts overflowing, and he immediately places it over David's mouth, who begins to drink greedily.

"What are you doing?" Natasha finds her voice first.

"Blood-sharing," Liam answers. "The blood in his own body is already working overtime and its priorities will always be major organs and the head. I fed before we came, so it should be potent enough to at least heal his arms, legs, and some of his ribs."

"You shouldn't," David mutters weakly, trying to speak and not let any blood escape his mouth. "You'll end up feral if you give me too much."

Natasha quickly connects the dots to why David didn't blood-share during the aftermath of Ultron.

Liam smiles weakly, his eyes slowly returning to normal when it seems like David will be okay. "We'll make do."

"If it's not enough, I'll give you mine," Natasha offers without hesitation.

David smiles thankfully at her. It's then that the Quinjet comes into view with Pietro flying it.

"We...we can't leave," Wanda suddenly says, her eyes welling with tears again. "We can't leave without her."

The heavy loss of you settles over everyone.

"It's okay," Liam says before he lifts his wrist away from David, licking the wound and sealing it up. "Tatyana won't hurt her. She probably can't even take her outside the city."

"How do you know?" Wanda hisses.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony finally asks. "Aren't you supposed to be human? What the hell was all of that?”

"You're clearly older than our two vampires. You're as strong as that William guy," Steve says carefully, assessing the vampire before him.

Liam sighs, running his hand through his hair. "I was William's apprentice. I only got the advantage with all your help to distract him and the fact he was blindsided from seeing me again. If it had just been me, it's possible even my alchemy couldn't kill him."

Liam looked directly at Natasha and Wanda.

"William is my maker, but I'm Elaine's."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Everyone is sitting back in the Compound, nursing their wounds. They sit around Tony's lab as he silently works on repairing his suit, and Tony is uncharacteristically quiet.

Steve was wiping blood from his brow, inspecting if the cut on it needed to be stitched back together. He, Tony, and Pietro were planning on heading back out to see if they could find any traces of you.

Steve's phone blinked with a message that he quickly checked from Sam.

Found him. Slippery little bastard, but I'll see if I can set a trap.

Steve lets out a tiny smile before sighing and putting away his phone. He feels disconcerted that you've been taken. He wonders at this point if you and Bucky will ever get to meet.

"Speak now," Wanda hisses, "and speak quickly."

"What are you?" Natasha asks without hesitation. "How can you be a vampire and also use alchemy? Those seem to oppose each other if one is meant to be a power to be able to protect themselves from the other."

"How the hell could I not sense you were a vampire?" David mutters, mostly to himself in disbelief. "Vampires are always able to sense each other. It's like a primal instinct that we recognize in each other. And I never saw you feed and we were together almost all the time!"

Liam sighs, almost overwhelmed by all the questions directed at him. "Alchemy is a neutral power but only humans are able to receive it. It has to do with their natural blood. Humans, specifically priests, just used it as so to protect themselves from being prey. I had the gift for it as a human, but it was too weak to fully manifest. Once I was turned, the venom in me unlocked something."

Turning to David, he looked apologetic before pointing to the alchemy spells down his left arm. "This keeps an illusion spell up. It makes it so you can't recognize the predator in me, but I have to be careful because if I force any kind of vampire instincts like bloodlust up, it breaks through the spell. I don't have to feed as often as you being as old as I am, but when I did, I took advantage of the times we were apart."

The room is silent, trying to process the information. Steve and Tony left to see if they could find any trace of you and if they could find any information about where William would be hiding.

"Let me start from the beginning," Liam sighs. "About who I am and everything that has happened to come to this moment."

Wanda has her lip curled in disdain but doesn't say anything. Natasha places her arm on Wanda's elbow, and the girl softens just a moment, leaning into the spy as they all quiet to listen.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Flashback

~1400s to 1600s~

The world was an unnaturally quiet place. At least to Liam. The markets were bustling, and people constantly moved during the day, but that noise never registered with him. Liam took in the days slowly with little to no rush, despite how much it would annoy his father and siblings.

But being the youngest did come with perks. They were generally much more lenient with him, and his mother seemed to hide the fact she'd allow him a taste of whatever was being made for the day first. It was a quiet life, and Liam hadn't minded one bit.

Despite the feeling that something was rumbling just underneath his skin and the crops he grew were always somehow much better than everyone else's, Liam liked his quiet life.

Moments of curiosity beckoned him to venture outside their quaint little farm and markets. Sometimes he stood out at the edge and looked out as if he could see anything beyond the horizon.

He couldn't leave, though.

Even if Liam wanted to see what he could do outside of growing crops, his family didn't need the uncertainty of waiting for him.

But just like how their little life was quiet, death comes just as quietly. Famine spreads through their lands, and Liam only manages to keep the crops alive a little longer than everyone else. One by one, they starve to death.

Being the youngest was a curse, always being given everything there was until he was the last one standing. Hunger gnawed at his stomach as he finally ventured past their quaint little farm and markets.

Hungry.

He was so hungry.

Liam thought about what he could do. Should he try to grow more crops? But the land had suddenly become unsuitable. He was quick with picking up things. Maybe he could try to find a merchant and learn the trade. Only can't remember the last time he saw a merchant pass by. Perhaps he should find a temple and look for work there. He'd have to shave his head, though.

And even as he stumbled upon a gruesome feeding man feeding on another man, Liam stood there motionlessly.

"Oh," the amused voice turned to look at him. "What have you stumbled upon, lost little boy?"

The words were difficult to understand. The man was white-skinned, clearly not from around here, but he had stayed long enough to learn the language from the locals.

"I'm not a boy," Liam shook his head and replied slowly so the man could process his words. His voice felt raspy from the lack of use.

"Could've fooled me," the man laughed lowly. "I can practically see your bones. You wouldn't even be a good feed."

"How can you eat him?" Liam asked as he looked upon the dead body, neck ripped open with blood running down. "Won't you get sick?"

The man raised his brow in amusement. It was strange that Liam didn't seem perturbed, but he supposed they had been experiencing famine for quite some time now. At this point, it was probably eat or be eaten.

"I won't get sick," the man told Liam, smiling sinisterly. "I'm a demon. I will never starve because there will always be blood."

It was quiet for a long moment, and the man wondered if Liam would turn to run. Liam was sweating at his brow and lip half-turned in a frown. Maybe he was too weak to even run away.

The man thinks that the thought of eating him doesn't even seem appealing. Maybe he'll just kill him and be on his way.

"Can I become a demon too?" Liam finally asks, locking eyes with the man, not flinching from their glowing redness. "If I become a demon, then I can live, right?"

The man stared, mouth agape. He starts laughing before he drops the body he's holding. "Fascinating, fascinating," he crooned. "It certainly won't be for free."

"I don't have money," Liam told him immediately. "If I had money, I would be searching for food to buy."

The man snorts. "I don't need money. Anything in this world is mine to take." He walks a slow circle around Liam. "What I want is an apprentice. I have plans, and my last one...didn't last very long."

Liam nodded.

The man smiled, but there was no comfort from it. "I must warn you, I don't have the patience to change you slowly. This will burn." He stepped closer, grabbing a fistful of Liam's hair and yanking his head back. "Welcome to the coven. My name is William, but you will refer to me as master."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

William was a radical. There was no telling how long William was around since he rarely spoke about himself. All Liam knew was that William wanted more demons like him. Secretly, Liam could only surmise that being alone for so long must've been lonely. Being lonely for too long does something to your head.

A century passed by. It didn't feel as quiet as it did when Liam was human. It felt like something was pulsating under his skin, making his bones ache. Liam encountered many priests before, seeing what they called ‘God's power.’ The more they used it around him, the more something inside him resonated—the more it felt like something was about to come out.

But Willi—his master would kill him. If Liam did what he believed he could, he would die for it.

So, Liam started to study the priests from a distance. When he encountered them, he watched with rapt what they were doing, what they drew, and how they moved. When he finally got his hands on one of their 'incantation and hymn' books, he felt something different about his life for the first time.

Liam felt awake. There was a constant stream of excitement in his mind. He could copy the drawings in the book, but he needed someone to teach him how to read the incantations. The world had always moved so slowly, and now Liam couldn't help but want it to move faster.

The only time he could practice was when his master was away. Despite the initial resistance, Liam convinced William that building networks with humans was better. If he wanted to create more demons, then they needed more space.

They needed land and money and their influence to keep the pitchforks and fire away. It was much slower to accomplish, but it was working well.

Humans were naturally suspicious beings. Too much compulsion and out-of-the-ordinary behavior would have the priests marching right to them.

"How dare he!"

Liam folded the paper he was drawing on and slipped it into his pocket as he turned around to see William barge through the door and slam it shut.

"What's wrong, master?" Liam asked, no inflections in his tone.

"That Baron Hastings—" William huffed, and his face was flushed with anger. "Not only did he laugh at my proposal to invest, he actually dared to convince others not to invest, saying it was a dupe!"

Liam said nothing. Even though he knew whoever this Baron was, he was correct.

"Your idea of this route was foolish!" William gritted out before he ripped off his hat. "I've had enough of this sham. Tonight, we will raid Baron Hasting's estate and take him for all he has."

"Yes, master," Liam tilted his head in acknowledgment. There was no use trying to refute anything William said when he was in this state. He was rather impressed since it was at least a decade since the last time he's lost his temper like this.

The raid had been like it was every other time. The smell of massacre stopped making him nauseous long ago. Liam prefers to kill the servants by snapping their necks and only taking a bite or two out of them, if only to appease William. The overindulgence was intoxicating for a few short years before Liam decided that the smell of their fear during the massacre didn't make them taste as good. William thought otherwise.

As he finished up, he could hear something outside at the stables, but it was mostly covered by the sound of the Baron's wife screaming bloody murder. She wouldn't stop even as William threatened to kill her slowly if she didn't silence herself.

Liam took off out the back. The Baron did well for himself, seeing a small stable holding three horses. He wondered who the third horse was for since the Baron and his wife had no children, and it couldn't have been for any of the servants.

Then he gazed upon something he wasn't sure he'd ever seen.

You were shaking and crying in your fine, silk-green gown. You were well-groomed and obviously spoiled with luxury.

A mistress of the Barons, perhaps? How bold of you to be here while his wife was. But Liam inhaled deeply and tilted his head in confusion. While he did smell the Baron on you intimately, he could also smell the wife in the same way. The wife's scent was all around you, over you, inside you.

Strange, Liam thought. He didn't know that was possible.

"Please..." you whispered, eyes closing as you could hear a woman's scream again, tears running down your eyes. But you don't continue your sentence.

His bones felt achy again.

"Can you read?" Liam asked, causing you to look up unsurely. You looked like you wanted to bolt to see if you'd make it, but you stayed rooted.

You nod shakily nonetheless. "Yes, a little. The Baron and his wife were teaching me."

Liam nodded. "Master won't teach me to read."

You swallowed, trembling. You obviously were confused as to why this...this demon was talking to you instead of killing you. "Have you asked?"

Liam shook his head. "He doesn't like it if I do other things. If I ask, he'll just be angry. He only taught me this language because it makes it easier for him."

You were gripping the horse's reins tightly. "If you don't want to follow him, why do you?"

There was a blank look as Liam stared at you. "Master made me as I am. I'm not strong enough to beat him."

"Have you tried?"

"If I try and fail, then I'll die."

"If he's too strong, then you need to be smarter. The Baron says being smarter and playing the long game is far better than being stronger."

The words settle upon Liam like a blanket. His eyes sparkle as if he knows that he's smarter, and despite being a mere human, it was like your permission to be so was all he needed.

There was a heavy, pregnant pause.

"You can leave," Liam told you, gesturing back to the screaming with his head. "If you leave now, the master will probably not notice you. But you can't leave with the horse as it will make too much noise. You must walk, not run. Your heart is already beating so loud and running will make it worse."

"I—" you started to say but choked. The tears that welled up in your eyes earlier fall over your already tear-stained face. "I can't leave without them."

Liam tilted his head. "Why not?"

"The baroness is screaming so I can leave," you told him, choking on your sob. "The moment we heard the break-in, The Baron pushed us both out the back, but the Baroness knew we both couldn't escape. She left me here and went back in."

"Then you should leave," Liam reasoned. "If she did it for you, you should live."

"Just to die another day," you muttered, wiping your tears. "How do you leave the first person to show you that kind of love? I—I can't. I should be in there too."

Liam ponders the words. He kind of understands. He loved his family as much as he could. It was hard to leave their bodies behind, but he kept moving because they had given him every last morsel so he could keep going.

And while you did not show him anything remotely close to love, you did show him something. And the ache in his bones made him feel like he shouldn't leave you behind. Playing the long game, as you said, will require time. And in the end, Liam knows he can't do it alone.

"Then die as a human and join them," Liam resounded before he blurred over to you and bit your neck, releasing his venom. There was no scream from your mouth, just your jaw dropping in shock. The taste of fear in your blood repulses him a little, but he hangs on, draining you. He was sorry—genuinely sorry—unlike his master, who warned him with false regret in his voice. Liam was sorry that your change would be painful.

When Liam felt your pulse nearly stop, he released you. He looked back at the house that was slowly becoming quieter. The screams quelled. He hopes you don't remember much of this.

Tonight, you'll die as a human and join the Baron and Baroness.

Then...then you'll wake up a demon, and the long game begins.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha and Wanda feel breathless as they listen to Liam. You told them your side of the story when you were changed, which was very little as you didn’t recall much outside of waking up with a burning pain and smelled the massacre.

To hear it from Liam’s side was…they didn’t know how to describe it. It made them want to hunch over and scream.

"I watched her in secret for many, many years. I managed to drag William from town to town. Not too close, obviously. That's how Tatyana and William met, I believe. I thought that Tatyana would've joined to get rid of William, but..." Liam rubbed the back of his head and didn't finish the sentence. "When Tatyana died, and Elaine became close to that priest, I saw it as an opportunity. I needed to learn alchemy and that priest and his family were going to be the only way. So, I escaped and went into hiding. William eventually stopped looking and continued to travel further away from me."

"How were you even able to get close without alerting them?" David asks with a frown. "She would've sensed you for sure if you didn't have your alchemy tattoos yet."

Liam shakes his head. "Your senses don't react the same way when you're near your maker. When you said you can always sense the predator in a vampire, what's actually happening is your venom senses other venoms. Your venom is unique to you, but it did come from your marker. Therefore, you can't sense it very well because your venom sees it as an extension of itself. While venom is unique to yourself, it does recognize shared venom. When you bite someone, only your venom can fully counteract it. But anyone in the same venomline as you can delay the poisoning, like a partial healing."

"Huh," David hums, holding his chin. "You learn something new every day. That explains why I never felt any alarms or hackles rise when I saw her. I thought it was because I recognized her as a coven mate, but that makes more sense when vampires form their own coven by changing others versus outsiders banding together."

Liam nods, smiling at David before continuing his story. "I learned a lot from Leonard by just watching and listening to him teach his children. They continued their traditions and upheld alchemy for a very, very long time. Until a child came that didn't have a gift, and they couldn't bear any more children."

"Robert," Natasha realizes, recalling the priest they met in Nashville. Liam nods. "He said you were adopted. They must've adopted you and thought you were, what, 17 at the most? How did you manage that? You look..." Natasha trails. "Older."

"The documents I forged officially said so, but I did learn enough fundamentals of alchemy to experiment on my own to change some of my features," Liam reveals. "I think his grandfather suspected but never attempted to find out. I was a prodigy once I had proper teachings and although awkward, sincere."

"Did you know?" Wanda demanded immediately. "Did you know Tatyana was alive?"

Liam is silent initially. "I suspected," he admits. "I couldn't quite keep tabs on William after I escaped, but his behavior was strange weeks leading up to Tatyana's death."

"We couldn't find even a trace of them." Steve and Tony burst through the doors together, looking tired, angry, and defeated. The news of your disappearance sets off everyone in the room. Angry tears well up in Wanda's eyes, that feeling of loss at her door again.

And she is so, so fucking tired of losing.

"You knew," Wanda hisses at Liam, malice laced in her tone. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes narrowed in an accusatory manner. "You knew all along that Tatyana was alive and would eventually come after us."

Wanda's eyes began to glow, her magic manifesting around her in angry, red wisps. "You knew and you let Tatyana take her!" Her magic bursts towards Liam, grabbing him like a vice. His body stiffens and jerks in her hold as he releases a gasp of pain.

"Wanda, wait!" David calls out to her, but it doesn't register. He tries to grab Liam to pull him out of Wanda's grasp, but he can't get Liam to even budge. David turns to everyone else in the room, but everyone is conflicted about whether or not to step in after finding out the truth about Liam. Steve looks like he wants to step in, but the anger about losing you keeps you rooted. He wants answers, and if Wanda can get them from Liam, he'll stay in place with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"Nat," David turns to the redhead instead, his eyes pleading. "Please. Liam must've had his own reasons for not saying anything. We need all the help we can get."

Natasha purses her lips. She'd be more than content to let Wanda rip Liam to shreds. She's so unbelievably angry to the point where it feels like hot needles are pricking her and boiling her blood. You were right there. You had been right there in front of her, and Natasha lost you. There was nothing she could've done to save you, and that's what makes Natasha the angriest.

But it's the years of experience—the training she's endured all her life— that she can put aside her emotions and be rational. Natasha gently places her hand over Wanda's clenched hand. The warmth of her skin makes Wanda look at her, the anger in her eyes slowly dimming as she stares into Natasha's gentle look.

The red glow disappears from Wanda's eyes, the wisp drawing back into her. She releases Liam from her grip, still glaring at him as he falls into David's arms. Liam's slightly hunched over, trying to regain his breath.

Natasha feels Wanda slip her hand into hers, and the warmth that seeps out is comforting. She coolly turns her head towards Liam, chin jutted upwards. "As much as I would like Wanda to give your comeuppance, you hold valuable information. You better have a plan or have some knowledge of how to save her and get rid of Tatyana for good."

Liam recovers from Wanda's attack as he gives a slight nod to David that he's okay and stands straight. "I had never intentionally planned for anyone to be kidnapped," he emphasizes, having the consciousness to at least look guilty. "I didn’t reveal myself because I wasn’t sure how Tatyana had been listening in. I truly believed that Tatyana was working with William to overthrow the humans. I'm not sure what changed, but it's clear that Tatyana abandoned William and had no intentions of creating sustainable creatures for his army again."

Natasha and Wanda look at each other for a brief moment. They recall the moment William had looked betrayed. The anger that rushed into William's eyes and the heat that pulsated through him—there was no way that was a part of their plans.

"Tatyana was able to recreate her body, but there definitely had to be a price paid," Liam continues. "I could feel something different about her, something not human. We need to find out exactly what she did to recreate her body because it was unlikely she was actually able to preserve it after she was killed. If we can find out, we can find a counter spell to undo it."

"That's if we can even stop her from using her magic," Natasha shakes her head. "Every time that woman casts a spell, we're always fucked."

"There has to be a spell to nullify her powers or stop her from using them," Liam thoughtfully says before sighing. "It's a shame we don't know any more witches. Usually, each coven has its own spell book."

"I'm sure I can figure something out," Wanda rubs her brow, a tiny headache forming. "Let's just form a plan first to find William and lure Tatyana out."

"In the case that there is another army waiting, we need to figure something out. If Tatyana won't create more vampires for William, he might just turn to the old fashion way of changing people. Even just a dozen of them will be troublesome for us, especially if they turn out to have gifts. The more time we lose, the more time he has to change people," Steve points out.

"What was that wood you said could kill you?" Tony asks David. "The...meth...metha...methu...the meth tree."

David gives Tony a look before he rolls his eyes. "Methuselah."

"That's what I said," Tony smirks. "If I can get my hands on a sample of it, I could probably turn it into something more effective to kill vampires...uh..." Tony paused. "Obviously not you guys, though. I'll work something out."

David wishes you were here to laugh at Tony. He lets out a deep sigh before he locks his eyes with Natasha and Wanda. "I'm going to find her," he promises them. "There isn't any place in the world Tatyana can hide her from me."

"How are you so sure?" Wanda frowns. She knows of his abilities, but Tatyana is a witch. They could be in a hut with no technology around.

David smiles, although sheepishly. "I have trackers in both her molars."

"What?!" Natasha narrows her eyes at David.

"It's fine!" David insists. "She knows, and I have trackers in both my molars too. Sometimes we do really stupid shit, and on two separate occasions, we couldn't find each other, and well—" David shrugs.

They all stare at him.

"Anyway, it's not always on," David says as if that should be obvious. "We just activate it when we can't find each other. I've reactivated it since we returned back here. It just takes some time to ping down a location even if I'm a technopath. The further she is, the longer it takes but we'll know soon."

They all continued to stare at him.

Tony finally opens his mouth to speak.

"You two are fucking weirdos."

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #black widow imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch imagine #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanoff x you x wanda maximoff #natasha x you x wanda #avengers x reader #avengers reader insert #avengers imagine #mm: my fics #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert

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macravishedbymactavish · 11 months

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Checkmate (David "Hesh" Walker x GN! Reader)

TW: Traumatized Hesh, mentions of Canon Ghosts ending. Maybe if the mood strikes I'll make this a series. It's been sitting in my drafts forever.

| Blog HQ |

"I only run when being chased" he replied smoothly, giving you a boyish smirk. Face slowly falling when your expression didn't change. Remaining serious.

"Then who's chasing you?" You asked in a soft tone, watching as the gears behind his eyes started to move. Trying desperately to brush this off with humor, but realizing:

Shit, you have a point.

"Right now, you and the staring" he chuckled dryly. Eyes looking everywhere but at you. The question made him uncomfortable, nervous, vulnerable.

"You play a lot of things off as jokes. Like nothing truly bothers you -- I don't think that's true though. You don't either" you reached forward, grabbing your drink to take a sip. "It's safe here. You can open up"

"If I open up anymore, I'll break my spine" you resisted rolling your eyes at the metaphor. "I'm an open book. Ask me anything" he challenged.

"What happened on the train?" May as well aim for the throat. "Why did you decide on the checkmate plan?" You watched as he clenched his jaw momentarily. Letting a long breath out through his nose, finally looking you in the eye before he spoke. Eyes begging for understanding.

Understanding that he tried. He's trying.

"You know exactly why. Everyone knows why. It's what had to be done. Ask Merrick, he'll agree" The walls were slowly being built back up, he was closing off again.

"What would have happened if you didn't?" This session felt like a chess match. Except he was the only one playing. Planning every move 5 steps before he needed to make it, planning how to retreat, to attack, to divert attention. Right now, he was using his silence as a defense. Waiting for you to continue before confirming his next move.

"David.." You sighed, leaning forward. "This isn't an interrogation, if it was they wouldn't have sent me. Your dad, brother, friends all want you to be okay. That's why I'm here. But I need more information before I can do much".

His eyes pleaded for you to understand he was trying.

Your eyes pleading for him to see you were doing the same.

"It's selfish. If I let him go, he would've kept hunting us. If I let him go, dad would never be avenged. Rorke would have never paid for what he did if I didn't make the call!" He slammed his hands on the table between you two. Expression immediately filling with remorse.

You watched as his face became an open window for the internal debate he was waging. Trying to differentiate what was reality and what wasn't. His mind and surroundings providing different feedback.

"I made the hard call to avenge my family. I know I fucked up and I have to live with that daily. My dad's dead, my brother is gone. I have nobody left." His voice broke as he leaned back, hands shaking as he fell deeper into that rabbit hole.

"Hesh, look at me" you requested, watching as his eyes cast down toward you. Posture still leaned back into his chair. Knowing he was now looking at his friend, not the psych personnel. "You're safe here. You're safe with me".

They're not gone. You saw them yesterday. You desperately wanted to affirm; but you knew that would be overstepping boundaries. Not that accepting your friends case wasn't overstepping. Your neck was on every line, every chopping block, under more risk for scrutiny because of this. Your heart ached day after day working on this; but how do you say no when

A) Resources and personnel are limited

B) Said friends father all but begged you to take this.

"There's a side of him that seems to be reserved for when you're around. He knows you, he trusts you. I'm not sure if I'd trust anyone else with this." Elias explained, sitting across the desk from you. The clinical piece of your mind wondered how much sleep he's gotten since that day. The personal piece knowing next to none, and it's rude to ask.

"You know there's policies, rules and ethics against this." Your heart broke saying the words "I can refer you to a colleague here who'd do fantastic on the case. I'm happy to overlook from an arms length away, but I really shouldn't be the one taking on his case"

"I understand that, but please. If anyone can get him out on the other side. It's going to be you."

How do you say no to that? You've known the Walkers for majority of your adult life. You've grown close to the trio. And if nothing else, Hesh did save your ass. You owe him at least this.

"Thank you" Hesh whispered, reaching his hand out to lay it atop of yours. Holding back a soft sigh, you decided enough was enough for today.

"Anytime. If it's not asking too much, can I give you some homework? Something to occupy your mind while you're cooped up in here" you vaugley gestured to the area around you. An office within a ward. You gave a small smile when he agreed, pulling an old, blank notebook from your bag.

"They won't let you have pens or anything in your room" you cursed yourself for the oversight, making a mental note to speak with the staff later. "When you can though, write out exactly what happened? Even point form. Help give me a full understanding of what happened, why it happened" you explained, handing the book over to him.

"How'd it go?" Logan jogged up behind you in the hall later that day, hope radiating off him in waves. It crushed him when he was advised against visiting his brother, especially right now.

"Confidentiality, Lo" you teased lightly "but we have a long way to go. We all knew that" you shrugged.

Hopefully this path leads to some resolution, clarity and forgiveness.

"Is the reason I can't go visit him confidential too?" Coming from anyone else - you may have found offense in the statement. A bite of sarcasm and resentment. Not with Logan - his intentions were clear:

He just wanted his brother back.

"Until we fully figure out what's going on in his head, and how to make positive progress we can't let you guys see him. He's still adamant that you're dead." You gave the youngest Walker a sympathetic look; knowing how close the two were before all this. He nodded, as much as he hated it he also understood.

"My arm is healing pretty well. All things considering" he smiled, pushing the sling off his body to show you. "Doc said I should be able to lose this thing in the next week or so"

You fell into easy conversation with Logan, both of you pretending like your hearts weren't chipping bit by bit. Listening to him give you updates on his broken arm, the movie he convinced Keegan to watch the other night. You told him about the latest recipe you tried for supper, and what you were planning for your coworkers birthday.

Anything to avoid what you both really wanted to talk about.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco @ai-luni

#call of duty ghosts #logan walker #david hesh walker #david hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker angst #cod ghosts #cod angst #call of duty ghosts angst #call of duty ghosts x reader

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 8 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝: 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Summary: When they first met, one would say they didn’t match at all. He was quiet, reserved and shy - unless he was around friends. She, on the other hand, was loud. No matter where she went, she always managed to be the center of attention. Whether it be for her unusual clothes, loud voice or exaggerated laugh. He was just like the earth: Grounded, steady, reliable, trustworthy and predictable. And she was fire in all its glory: Warm, irresistible, uncontrolled, flammable, dangerous. It only took one glance to realize they were never meant to be, at least that’s what everyone thought - including them. But time has only served to prove how wrong they all were.

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC Lolli

A/N: Special thanks to Crystal aka @theworldofotps for her undying support 🥰

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @adamjf , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

He tried to swallow for what felt like a hundred times in the span of 30 seconds. This was a bad idea, Kenny should’ve never let The Bucks convince him of doing this. This would never work, after this stupid stunt, Kenny was sure Lolli would never, ever, forgive him for this.

But what can a man do when all hope is gone? “Shit, it can’t get worse than it already is, right?” He mumbled to himself behind the red velvety curtains. The karaoke host introduced the next contender as a “man trying to make things right again” before all of the lights turned out.

The first notes of the harp played along the karaoke bar and Kenny sent a silent prayer to whatever invisible being might be hearing him right now, before he began.

“I'm limited.

Just look at me.

I'm limited.

And just look at you.

You can do all I couldn't do.

Glinda

So now it's up to you,

For both of us.

Now it's up to you.”

The lights slowly turned on, revealing not only the crowd in front of Kenny but also the only person that truly mattered to him.

There she was, as beautiful as always. Her face was a mix of surprise, disbelief, embarrassment, and something deeper…hope? Love? Kenny sure hoped it was the latter. Grabbing the microphone with a deadly grasp, he continued:

“I've heard it said,

That people come into our lives,

For a reason.

Bringing something we must learn.

And we are lead to those,

Who help us most to grow if we let them.

And we help them in return.

Well I don't know if I believe that's true.

But I know I'm who I am today,

Because I knew you”

Fuck, he was sweating so much. Kenny could feel it dripping down his back before being collected by the waistband of his jeans. He was now thankful for not having had coffee before this because fuck, he was so jittery already.

“Like a comet pulled from orbit,

As it passes a sun.

Like a stream that meets a boulder,

Halfway through the wood.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better,

But because I knew you,

I have been changed for good”

Kenny was certain his heart has never beaten this fast before, not even before the most important matches of his career. He was certain that if he stopped to rationalize everything he was doing right now, he’d have a heart attack. Plain and simple, bang! A dead man on the floor.

“It well may be,

That we will never meet again,

In this lifetime.

So let me say before we part,

So much of me,

Is made of what I learned from you.

You'll be with me,

Like a handprint on my heart”

The yellow front lights momentarily blinded him, shielding his vision from who truly mattered to Kenny the most. He needed to see her, needed to see her expressions and try to read what was going through her mind as he pulled the most tone-deaf show of the night. Being unable to see her face from center stage began to annoy him, so Kenny let his feet guide him down the stairs to the crowd.

“And now whatever way our stories end,

I know you have rewritten mine,

By being my friend.

Like a ship blown from its mooring,

By a wind off the sea.

Like a sea dropped by a sky bird,

In a distant wood.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better,

But because I knew you”

There she was! She looked somewhat different, although her hair, clothes, and lack of obvious makeup were still the same there was something oddly different.

Perhaps it was the shocked expression she had plastered on her face. Yes, it was that! It made her incredibly human, which may seem crazy to say considering she is a human, but if you only knew Lolli then you’d understand. That woman is the personified version of a Pit Bull: impressively smart but sometimes incredibly dumb to the most obvious things, annoying, sometimes rude, resting bitchface, fun to tease, mean when hungry, loyal, all over the place, loud, strong, courageous, and cold and emotionless. But similar to the dog, it was all a gigantic façade, a defense mechanism if you will. Lolli’s imposing “fuck you! I don’t need nobody” demeanor was the only way she found to survive through everything life threw her way ever since she was a child. Once you got to know the person behind the character, you discovered that she was incredibly fragile. And that fragility was what made Kenny’s heart tighten in his chest right now, because even though she was sitting amid these unknown people, Lolli was unable to hide what she despised the most: her true feelings.

“Because I knew you

I have been changed for good”

She tried to hide them from him, but they appeared through her watery eyes. Shit, she hated crying in public! Well, she hated crying in general, but especially around people. Kenny could count on his hand how many times she cried in front of him in their 10 years of friendship. Vulnerability scared her like darkness scared a small child, Kenny thought that was an accurate example because similar to a child, Lolli was also terrified of the dark. She screams whenever there’s a power outage in their house, and Kenny can’t help but remember that when it does happen she instantly screams for him to go stay with her because she doesn’t want to be alone in the dark.

Lolli had found in him a sense of security she never found before in anyone else, her distrustful nature didn’t allow her to trust anyone, but devils be damned there was something about that soft, Canadian blue-eyed man that made her open up like a wildflower and now she hates it, regrets it, despises it.

“And just to clear the air,

I ask forgiveness,

For the things I've done,

You blamed me for”

Really, who the hell does he think he is? Does he think this stupid - and incredibly bad - singing will make her forgive him? Has the last 10 years not been enough for him to know her already? This is stupid! Incredibly embarrassing, uncalled for, and completely unnecessary. The closer Kenny got to her the more she could feel the tears on her eyes growing in weight, and Lolli knew it would be inevitable for them to fall sooner or later. Fuck, she hates this! She doesn’t want to cry in front of these people, she doesn’t want to cry in front of him, goddamn it, she refuses to cry right now! She’ll do it either way but in the comfort and loneliness of her apartment. She doesn’t need Kenny nor these people witnessing her weakness, she can’t let him see what he did to her, what he turned her into a big walking mess of tears and pain.

“But then,

I guess,

We know there's blame to share”

*Blame to share my ass!* She thought to herself as Kenny pulled a chair to sit beside her. Okay, maybe this was the anger and pain speaking, if she had to be honest then yes, they were both to blame. But in her infuriated state of mind refused to acknowledge any kind of blame. Until the rage subsided he was the one to blame for all of this! The pain, the tears, the words spoken throughout an empty apartment, the crushed dreams, the lost hopes. Kenny Omega was the bastard to blame for her broken heart.

“And none of it seems to matter,

Anymore”

*Maybe not to you!* She caught herself thinking. Fuck, she missed him. She missed him so much…

“Like a comet pulled from orbit

(Like a ship blown from its mooring,)”

The crowd began to sing along with Kenny and that’s all Lolli couldn’t stand, to be the center of attention of a drama scene. Kenny knew this, he could see the uncomfortableness in her body language, but what the hell was he supposed to do?! She refused to answer the door whenever he went by her apartment, she blocked his number, she took a different path to work so then he couldn’t find her, and she threatened to castrate The Bucks with a razor blade in case they shared information of her life with Kenny. She wasn’t making it easy for him to contact her so this was the only way he found to at least look at her one last time.

As he sat beside her, Kenny turned his body to the left so he could be face-to-face with her. Her heavy tears now rolled down her cheeks, leaving clear trails on her skin that gleamed underneath the pale yellow lights. From behind her, Kenny could see the people singing along with him, some of them were cheering while others held up a lit lighter in their hands.

“As it passes a sun.

(By a wind off the sea.)

Like a stream that meets a boulder,

(Like a sea dropped by bird,)

Halfway through the wood.

(In the wood.)

Who can say if I've been changed for the better.

I do believe I have been changed for the better.”

Much to her annoyance, Lolli found out that hating Kenny was an easier task when she didn’t have to face him. It was easy to hate him after that night, after everything that was said, after the way he stormed out of her apartment. After the night that changed their lives forever, she had made the silent oath of never speaking to him ever again. And she was being very successful at keeping her promise, but she had to admit that it wasn’t as easy now that he was facing her with those big, stupidly kind, and regretful blue orbs.

“And because I knew you

Because I knew you”

This was it, the very last seconds of Kenny’s opportunity were fading and he could hear his voice growing more nervous after every word. He would never forgive himself if Lolli didn’t agree to at least hear him, all of this would be in vain, and Kenny cannot allow it! In the last 10 years, this woman has proven herself to be the most important part of his being. He could live without a lung, a kidney, a leg, hell even without wrestling! But he cannot live without Lolli.

“Because I knew you,

I have been changed

For good”

After the final notes, the crowd began to chant a mix of “forgive him” and “kiss”. Kenny felt incredibly motivated by the support he was receiving from all these strange people, but deep down he knew it was pointless. Lolli lives by her standards and she’s not someone who cracks under other people’s pressure, if anything, pressuring her to do something she doesn’t want to will only serve as fuel for her to do whatever the fuck she wanted to do.

Kenny placed the microphone on top of the table as he heard her mumbling, “Why?”

“Because I’m desperate” He sincerely answered

“Desperation makes us do some dumb shit” Lolli spat, not so subtly giving Kenny her thoughts on what he just did.

“True” Kenny nodded in agreement, deciding that silence would be his best ally for now

After a couple of silent seconds, she asked with an annoyed tone “Are you gonna say something or not?”

Kenny internally celebrated her question because this meant that she was somewhat willing to listen to him and that by itself was already an accomplishment when it came to Lolli.

“Do you want to come to eat a burger with me? We can stop by that chocolate expo and grab something for dessert afterward”

And of course, the bastard was trying to win her over with food! That’s what 10 years of friendship did, no? Make you earn a kind of knowledge about the other person's weak points that will certainly be used to your advantage at some point in the relationship.

Kenny was trying, he was making an effort. Even though the things he said that night didn’t sound like Kenny at all, he was trying to make things right now.

Lolli needed this, the sentimental dumbass in her needed to hear what Kenny had to say, even if it would make her heart ache worse, she needed this. The brain convinced her that this was the closure she needed, but her heart screamed that this was the opportunity for things to be right again.

Lolli did hear her heart in regards to Kenny, and look at where that led her to, a fucking broken heart. But at the same time, she always heard her rational side, and that had also led her to pain countless times. It all sounded like a big lose-lose to her.

‘You can’t win them all’ they say, well it sounded more like you can’t win at all. So if the inevitable result is to lose every time, what should one do when faced with this scenario? Should they listen to the comfort of the mind and let that lead them to sadness and regret or should they listen to the unfamiliar heart that will take them down the path of pain and sorrow?

Independently of the choice, the results seemed mirrored. So now it was up to Lolli to figure out which path of thorns she was going to take from now on.

“Fine” She answered briefly before grabbing her backpack and following Kenny out to the parking lot under the crowd’s endless ‘uuuuhhhh’ cheering.

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega #yellow brick road series #masochist writes

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harksness · 2 years

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The Comfort of Rain

A/N: Hi!!! I'm back after another long hiatus!!! It has Not been my year and I feel bad for abandoning this blog lmao :,) I've really missed writing, especially for Agatha and I'm excited to start again. I have some stuff planned!! So stay tuned!! + I wanted to keep the Readers stressors as ambiguous as possible so anyone could project their situation onto this fic but yeah I hope u all enjoy and find some comfort in it like I did <3

Also I just finished editing this and it's 1AM so if I missed any nonsense... oops.

Thank u to the lovely person who requested this! <3<3

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: None, I think. As always, lmk if I missed any!

Coming by sleep has been hard recently. It’s always hard when life keeps taking from you, taking and taking until you’ve given everything you have to give. And then it keeps expecting more, demanding more, pushing you to your limits until you break. Sleep is impossible, at this point. How could you possibly rest when you’re so stressed out that anxiety has plagued you to the point of nausea for days? Sleep isn’t an option. Why would your brain allow you such a simple comfort?

The only thing that slows your racing mind is the steady thrumming of rain against the window. It quiets those anxious voices and stressful thoughts possessing you. You smush the side of your face into the cool sliding glass door, and it soothes your puffy, red eye.

Rain is, quite possibly, the greatest natural comfort in life.

You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, and although the hardwood floors are extremely uncomfortable to rest on, you find yourself curling into the sliding glass door, as if trying to immerse yourself in the image in front of you.

Your heart weighs heavy in your chest, like a rock weighing you down. You don’t even flinch when a loud crack sounds far beyond the safety of your home, a bolt of lighting flashing through the sky. Your apartment lights up momentarily, and just as quickly as the light had appeared, it’s gone. The rain is doing nothing to fill the empty silence of your apartment, the echo of a ticking clock somewhere in your home ringing through the dark.

Your eyes are droopy and heavy with exhaustion, tired from crying. And yet, you still can’t find sleep. Then, you hear it. Cutting through the dead silence, just loud enough to hear over the rain- the familiar creak of your front door opening. You tilt your head slightly to your right, just barely enough so that you can see the entrance to your home. Warm, yellow light pools in through the open door, cutting through the cold darkness, and you can make out a familiar silhouette. A small smile cracks onto your features as you watch her enter, pulling a suitcase in behind her.

You’re grinning ear to ear. She wasn’t supposed to be home for another few days. Agatha closes and locks the door, abandoning her suitcase next to her. You watch as she toes off her sneakers, reaching to turn on the living room light.

“Ag’s, you’re home!”

Your voice is heavy with exhaustion but alight with excitement. Agatha pauses, freezing just as she was about to flick the light switch. She drops her arm, and though you can’t clearly make out her features from across the apartment, you know that she sees you.

Agatha knows right away that you’re not okay.

Her sock clad feet softly pad across the living room, and then across the kitchen before she reaches you at the sliding glass door by your dining table. You’re looking up at her from where you’re curled into the window, a drowsy smile curled onto your lips.

“I missed you.”

Your words are a whisper, so soft and barely loud enough for her to hear. She smiles softly, crouching down to your level. Now, you can finally make out some of her features in the darkness.

“I missed you too, baby.”

Agatha raises a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. She then moves her hand to pet all your stray hairs into place carefully, taking the time to smooth them down against your head.

“Why are you sleeping on the kitchen floor, silly girl?”

She coos softly, her voice so gentle and gushing with so much affection and kindness that you feel safe in her words. She’s like the rain. Her tone, the way she speaks, everything about her. The way she looks at you, her eyes, her considerate touch, it all makes you feel so safe and comfortable you could just melt in her arms.

“I can’t sleep so I decided to watch the rain.”

You mumble in response, your voice scratchy and eyes still sore from how you had been crying earlier. She presses her lips into a firm line, eyes squinting ever so slightly as she studies you. Now, that’s when you know that she knows that something is wrong. Quickly, she masks her worried gaze by smiling softly at you.

Agatha stands, the steady thrumming of rain playing as background music to the scene unfolding between you and Agatha in your dark kitchen. It’s deathly quiet otherwise, the silence is so thick and hanging heavy in the air as it often does in the late hours of the night and the very early hours of the morning. As if one wrong move, one loud noise would wake the entire world.

Agatha bends over slightly, holding her hand out to you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

You blink dumbly up at her form for a moment, all of her features cast in a gray tint and shadows. A crack of lightning splits through the sky behind you, roaring loudly and once again lighting up your apartment for a brief moment. And in that brief moment you’re allowed a quick look at Agatha in color. Her rosy cheeks and gorgeous blue eyes, soft pink lips and messy brown hair you could run your fingers through all day. You melt at the sight of her before she’s cast in black and white again, and you take her hand.

Agatha pulls you into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before she begins to guide you across the kitchen and into your living room. You're grateful for her guidance, considering the darkness, and that you're sleep deprived, along with your head being stuffy from all the crying. She guides you to the couch, and you sink your weight into the soft cushions as she stands above you, hands on your shoulders.

“That’s it.. Sit right there, baby.. Good girl.”

She coos softly, her voice gentle and as sweet as honey. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look up with her, a yawn forcing its way out of your throat. Agatha tugs softly at the edge of the blanket that’s wrapped around your shoulders, and once your yawn has settled it takes you a moment to process what she’s doing. You scrunch up your face in confusion.

“You’ve been on the floor, sweetheart.. That blanket is filthy. Lemme get us a clean one.”

Her voice remains gentle and patient, she pauses, waiting for you to relent. You do after a moment, releasing your tight hold on the fabric so that she can unwind it from your body.

The second the chilly air of the apartment kisses your skin, a shiver trails up your spine and your shoulders shake as a result of it. You pout a bit, wrapping your arms around yourself. Agatha grins at you, a teasing edge to her smile. But that typical taunting edge is blunted when she speaks.

“You’re such a freeze baby.”

She coos, dropping the dirty blanket on the floor before she takes the hem of the soft, purple sweater that she's wearing into her fingers and begins to pull it off. She’s shadowed in darkness, but you can make out the tight black tank top she’s wearing underneath her favorite sweater, her mess of brown curls trailing after her head as she pulls the sweater off.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get cold.”

You mutter softly, your words slightly slurred from exhaustion. Agatha quirks a curious eyebrow at you, holding out the bunched up fabric for you to take.

“You’re always stealing this sweater from me, every chance that you get. Now that I’m offering it to you, I’m supposed to believe that you don’t want it?”

Agatha is grinning, shaking it playfully, as if to tempt you. Like tempting a dog with a toy. Still, you eye her suspiciously. She sighs.

“I promise I won’t get cold.”

Reluctantly, you reach out and take the sweater dangling from her hand.

“Good girl.”

She grins at your compliance.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

She seals her promise with a kiss against your forehead. She turns, making her way through your dark apartment and towards your shared bedroom. You frown softly, closing your eyes to allow yourself a moment of rest as you grab the sweater abandoned in your lap and blindly pull it over your head. You don’t even care if you put it on wrong, it’s still warm, extremely soft and comfortable, and it smells like Agatha. That’s your four basic needs for survival right now.

You’ve always been obsessed with this sweater. It’s just as much your favorite as it is Agatha’s, but for different reasons. She wasn’t wrong when she mentioned how you constantly steal it from her. You do. No matter how many times you wash it, it still smells like Agatha. The smell that's distinctly and uniquely her, that smell that makes your heart turn to mush and the dorkiest smile break out onto your face immediately upon registering it. You run your fingers of the impossibly soft fabric, forcefully peeling your heavy eyelids open to glance out the window.

It’s still raining.

It’s let up a bit, but not a lot. The thrumming against the windows is softer. Some moonlight is actually clearly making its way through. Shuffling sounds from the hallway, and you shift your eyes over to see Agatha, her wild locks somewhat tamed in a bun piled atop her head. She’s in the same black tank top and skinny jeans she was wearing moments ago, the only notable wardrobe change being that she peeled off her socks as she pads around on bare feet. She has your softest blankets piled in her arms as she approaches you.

She smiles softly as she sets down the stack of blankets on the couch next to you, gesturing her hand in a vague motion.

“Turn around, face the window.. Please, honey.”

She directs you, and you obey thoughtlessly, shifting yourself so that you’re sitting horizontally with the couch, the back cushions brushing against your arm as you glance over your shoulder at her. Agatha moves behind you, pressing her front against your back and trapping you between her legs. She grabs a blanket and lays it across your lap and her legs, tucking you in.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice is soft, still a bit scratchy from your crying earlier in the night. It cuts through the silence of the quiet apartment like a knife, the muffled sound of rain beating against the window doing nothing to fill the silence.

“You couldn’t sleep so you wanted to watch the rain, right?”

Agatha asks, shuffling behind you. She wraps her arms around your front, blanket in her hands as she tucks it around the both of you. Your love pulls you to her chest, and you shift down enough to where you can rest your head on her shoulder. She tilts her head, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“So, we’re going to watch the rain together.”

She speaks softly against your skin, her breath tickling you a bit as she holds you close, guiding you so that you both are resting against the cushions of the couch. You’re facing the window with a perfect view as rain droplets continue to splatter against the glass.

Your heart constricts at her words. You don’t know why, but it causes something to snap in you. An overwhelming wave of emotion drowns you, and you find yourself tilting your head and burying your face into her arm as you begin to cry. You can’t seem to hold yourself together as your cries escalate into sobs, and unlike your breakdown earlier, you feel the tension in your chest release. The knot of anxiety burrowed in your heart begins to untangle, a bit of a weight lifted off of your shoulders, knowing that you’re not alone.

Agatha knows you so well. Better than you know yourself, apparently.

She holds you tighter, comfortingly running her hands up and down your skin as she shushes you. You cry into her arm, finally finding what you needed in her embrace and her love.

“It’s alright love, I’ve got you.”

She speaks softly into your hair, pressing another kiss to your head.

Agatha Harkness is more comforting than the rain.

#Agatha Harkness x Reader #Agatha Harkness/Reader #Agatha Harkness x Y/N #Agatha Harkness x You #Kathryn Hahn x Reader #Kathryn Hahn x Y/N #chemvel

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thatgordongirl · 2 years

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Thoughts on Ghosts Season 4 - Part 1

Mary, Thomas, and Julian

Disclaimer: There will be spoilers! If you haven’t watched season 4 already, @patcaps has it on his google drive on his blog. Also, before I get into it all, I want to say it was an absolute blast waiting with all of you, making content and keeping the show alive. I hope we get to have just as much fun with the podcast and future seasons, this fandom has a lot of heart that a lot of others have lost overtime. I think it’s because it comes from people don’t just love Ghosts, but the actors, their previous shows, the history, and the positivity brought to every second of every episode.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, Ghosts. I think it’ll be best if every character is addressed individually as to go fully in-depth with each development and storyline. But talking about the season itself, I have to say there is something different about it compared to other seasons. I think it’s to set the stage for Alison’s rising tension in her marriage and with the Ghosts, maybe it was preparing for Mary, either way, it’s storyline was a lot tense and melancholic, which you would expect from a show about dead people.

It instilled a fear that I had forgotten purely because I thought they wouldn’t cross that line. They let a ghost pass on. I had considered it likely at some point, but I thought they’d do it together. Suddenly there’s grief and now there’s a worry about who’s next. It immerses you in the show whilst also building up tension and anxiety. If anything, I thought Robin would have passed on before Mary, maybe even Julian if he found closure. The show won’t be the same without her.

Anyways, I don’t want to make this too long.

Mary

She will be missed dearly and I was actually sobbing when she left. I kept waiting for it to be a fake-out, for her to come back and say the basket was only four potatoes high and Alison did it wrong. But she didn’t. She didn’t come back and it affected everyone. Thomas was had a selfless moment for her, Captain nearly cried and comforted Julian. Robin showed his own way of coping for those he’d lost, those he’d probably lose, and how his belief in the stars made it a little better.

They all showed different ways of grieving for Mary. Captain kept moving and working, trying to distract himself. Fanny denied it and forgot momentarily, maybe he’d mind trying to protect herself from it. Kitty cried, Pat tried to make a comfortable lie. Robin deflected, Julian got angry. They are all different and equally fair ways of grieving. The show captured how everyone deals with things differently.

Mary finding her voice and talking about her trial was the closure she needed. She told her story, she loved and she lost and she lived. And she’s gone. And it’s going to be hard, as silly as it may sound, to watch the show the same way. Because I think we’ll grieve a little bit too. But Katy Wix did a terrific job showcasing someone silenced learning to speak up and be her true self in the face of scrutiny.

Thomas

I have to say, I’m impressed by his development throughout this season. It’s not exactly what I expected/hoped, but it’s the build up to more. His moment with Kitty in episode 1 where he tells her she doesn’t have to pretend to like his poetry felt like such a genuine line without him trying to garner sympathy, he really doesn’t want her to pretend. He does it for himself so much already. That being said, I also think it outlines another important relationship of his, with Captain.

Realistically, they shouldn’t get along at all, and they don’t most of the time, but they have similarities I feel they bond over. They both exhibit logical thinking and question Robin’s story, they share similar views on Julian. The Thomas and Pat interactions are very interesting and for a second I swore Pat was treating him like his son. Keeping him in the room and saying he was putting his foot down, Pat acts like a very insistent babysitter who lets you stay up if you’ll kelp him work the microwave.

The best revelation that we kinda already knew but wasn’t addressed was Thomas making everything about himself. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, he’s just spent so much time obsessing over his work he thinks it’s the only way to operate. And when he realises he’s doing it, he doesn’t deny or defend, he immediately rights his wrong. He makes sure it’s about Mary, even cutting off writing a eulogy, the thing he obsesses over, and puts her above himself.

Julian

I just want to say before anything, Julian saying Maggie during a time of vulnerability and telling a rare story is very telling. It’s one of the only stories he’s told that hasn’t involved one of his sexual conquests, even if it’s still not really part of his personal life since it’s still in relation to work. Julian feels more guilty about people than he lets on, we know he feels bad about his daughter, but he loved his wife at some point. At least I hope he did.

Though he doesn’t entirely grasp being virtuous because he wants people to see it and that’s the only reason he does it. Captain did have a point when he said that there is a heart somewhere in Julian. Playing chess with Robin with the big board was hilarious. His way of grieving being anger made so much because of the way he reacts to being insulted. He gets defensive, and yells. Finally, his relationship with Alison is either that drunk uncle who comes around every twenty five years, or more fatherly. When they were scheming together I swear it was a father and a daughter.

#bbc ghosts #mary bbc ghosts #pat butcher #the captain #julian fawcett #thomas thorne #robin bbc ghosts #katy wix #analysis #ghosts season 4 #bbc ghosts spoilers

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mollymauktealeef · 1 year

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I posted 10,649 times in 2022

That's 5,588 more posts than 2021!

171 posts created (2%)

10,478 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@quinn-of-aebradore

@kiwifluid

@vampwidogast

@spottedenchants

@viciousmollymaukery

I tagged 10,638 of my posts in 2022

#critical role - 6,060 posts

#cr2 - 3,984 posts

#critical role spoilers - 1,508 posts

#cr3 - 1,294 posts

#lmao - 1,205 posts

#shadowgast - 879 posts

#the sandman - 741 posts

#video - 633 posts

#so jask - 475 posts

#exuc - 443 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#‘yeah he’s dead. he’s so dead. super dead. just fucking ... died you know and now he’s dead and we’re all very upset about it of course.

My Top Posts in 2022:

things i am excited about in no particular order or a complete list:

old opening theme

new opening??!!

new art!

hot boi sighting!

kingsley extended time!

caleb voice

veth voice

POP POP

caduceus voice

aeor dates (either explicit or hinted at)

yussa trapped somewhere (bets are the moon but he is the nein's blorbo so maybe multiple places at once, that man finds trouble)

polymorph shenanigans return

murder hoboing returns (listen the hell's are great and love the care but also i miss the unrestrained feral murder sprees okay)

marius still hasn't killed someone/marius has killed someone/the resulting teasing is the same

return of the ultimate husband YEZA

ludinus fuckwad gets his ass handed to him

Uk'otoa, Uk'otoa

feel free to add onto this list, i still am lol

180 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

ashton, who has been basically the only one fixated on the living furniture in just about every session, during the start of that ep:

188 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

for wip wednesday, a wee peek of that shadowgast fake marriage au i talked about on the weekend, tell me what you think

And Essek is without an escape plan.

Trapped masterfully in an endgame he’s failed to see occurring in the shadows around him. He let his old arrogance ruin him, he should have seen the knife coming long before he felt it in his back.

“A welcome union between our Den’s, long overdue,” The world screeches back into focus as Deirta offers the usual platitudes and Ulric Tasithar nods along, barely containing his smirk, a plan well executed and just a moment away from being finalised. The clock ticks ominously in the back of the room and Essek feels every second like a vice around his chest.

So Essek does something he’s rarely done before. He panics.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he says, a touch too loudly. The only visible sign he’s not in full control of himself.

His mother sniff’s haughtily, fully aware he has no way out and not in the mood to indulge his silver tongue’s attempt to earn his freedom. Or at least a moment’s reprieve to think. “My boy you -”

“I’m already married,” Essek states as calmly as he can, trying not to show the cold panic that has settled into every inch of him. His mother blinks at the outburst, momentarily stunned. A good thing, with Deirta on the back foot he could wrangle a way out of this horrible situation. After all, the Umavi of Den Thelyss had been expecting cool, calculated arguments from him.

Not this.

And in all honesty neither had he.

Outwardly he is calm, relaxed in his seat and presenting an aura of control as he lets the statement settle like dust on the furniture. Internally Essek desperately tries to fumble together something to cover for his outlandish declaration.

It’s not unusual to bypass the pomp and circumstance of a public wedding for a quieter affair but he can tell from the faces around the table that they can see it for what it is. A desperate attempt to maintain his freedom.

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Uraya pipes up and Essek exhales slowly to avoid doubling over in gasping relief. He could kiss his dear friend. A witness, a respected one at that, adds more weight to Essek’s words and he looks less like a child clamouring for any exit and more like a man in control of the situation.

“To who?” Deirta asks stonily.

Fuck, Essek thinks sharply.

229 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

UNLEASH THE CRABS!!!!

423 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

that's a two-way fucking honeypot in action and neither of these idiots realise they both the bee

2,260 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #so jask

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ethereacinth · 10 months

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BLOG #3: THE SNIPER By Liam O’ Flaherty

Questions:

Why did the sniper shoot the unarmed woman? Was he justified? Explain why or why not.

What alerts the enemy sniper to the sniper on the rooftop?

Describe all aspects of the setting for this story. (time period, time of day, country, city, etc.)

The author uses a lot of imagery and description here. Write as many descriptive words and phrases below. (Find at least 5)

Why must the sniper leave the roof? Why can he not leave yet? Why can he not use his rifle?

Describe the shift in the sniper’s emotions after he realizes he has killed the enemy sniper.

What is ironic in the story (there is more than one obvious answer)?

Identify three qualities that made the snipers alike BESIDES THE FACT THAT THEY ARE BROTHERS!.

How might the story be different if the story was told from third person omniscient? (The narrator knows/tells all characters thoughts and emotions)

Answers:

The sniper shot the unarmed woman because she was an informer, pointing out his location to the enemy. Whether or not he was justified is a matter of interpretation and personal ethics. From a moral standpoint, it can be argued that shooting an unarmed woman is not justified under any circumstances. However, in the context of war and the immediate threat posed by the informer, the sniper may have believed that her actions endangered his life and the lives of his comrades, justifying his decision to eliminate the threat.

The enemy sniper is alerted to the sniper on the rooftop when the sniper lights a cigarette. The flash from the match could be seen in the darkness, revealing the sniper's position.

The story is set in Dublin, during the Irish Civil War. The time period is not explicitly mentioned, but based on historical context, it can be assumed to be in the early 1920s. The events take place during the night, transitioning from the long June twilight to complete darkness. The city is described as enveloped in darkness, with only the dim light of the moon shining through the clouds. The setting is characterized by the sound of heavy guns roaring, machine guns and rifles breaking the silence sporadically, and the dark waters of the Liffey flowing through the city.

Descriptive words and phrases used in the story: "faded into night", "pale light as of approaching dawn", "thin and ascetic", "cold gleam of the fanatic", and "deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death".

The sniper must leave the roof because he does not want to be caught there when morning comes. Being wounded and exposed on the roof would put him in a vulnerable position. However, he cannot leave yet because the enemy sniper on the opposite roof is covering his escape. If he were to expose himself, he would be at risk of getting shot. Additionally, he cannot use his rifle because it is too conspicuous, and firing it would reveal his location.

After realizing he has killed the enemy sniper, the sniper experiences a shift in his emotions. The "lust of battle" dies in him, and he is overcome with remorse. He becomes disgusted by the sight of his dead enemy and feels a sense of horror. The realization of the consequences of his actions, coupled with his physical and emotional exhaustion, leads him to curse the war and himself. He is shaken by the experience and becomes momentarily disillusioned with the violence of war.

One example of irony in the story is that the sniper, who is skilled at killing, becomes repulsed by the sight of his dead enemy and experiences remorse. Another example is when the sniper throws his revolver in anger and it accidentally discharges, nearly hitting him. The irony lies in the fact that he almost becomes a victim of his own actions.

Three qualities that make the snipers alike besides the fact that they are brothers:

Fanaticism: The cold gleam in their eyes indicates their fanaticism and commitment to their respective causes.

Skill: Both snipers demonstrate proficiency in marksmanship and tactical awareness.

Resourcefulness: Both snipers display resourcefulness and adaptability in finding ways to outmaneuver and eliminate their enemies.

If the story were told from a third-person omniscient perspective, the reader would have access to the thoughts and emotions of all the characters involved. This would provide a deeper understanding of their motivations, fears, and internal struggles. The reader would gain insight into the enemy sniper's perspective and how he feels about facing his brother. It would also allow for a broader exploration of the themes of war, morality, and the psychological toll of violence on individuals.

To make it more comprehensive, I've provided a reflection and my interpretation of the story through video presentation.

Disclaimer: The animation featured in this video is not mine. Credits to the Cloud Production.

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existentialmagazine · 1 year

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Review: GLYTSH’s newest metal, punk and alternative-rock blend ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ bears a narrative tinged in Frankenstein-esque darkness

Since forming in late 2021 and hitting their audiences with explosive mixes of metal with a dark punk edge, the female duo GLYTSH have carefully crafted quite the individual sound to be adored. With their other previous releases ‘SAV@GE’ and ‘(Hard)Core Memory’ amassing great airplay and acclaim from mainstream media, independent stations, zines and blogs, GLYTSH aren’t ready to slow down their roll just yet. Now bouncing back into momentum with their latest storming single ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’, it’s never been a better time to support this empowering pair looking to make the metal and alternative scenes more welcoming, inclusive and safe for aspiring musicians and fans.

With a whirring VHS tape leading things into the aptly named ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’, GLYTSH momentarily take a more sombre introduction into things as just steady drum beats, a dark guitar riff and an electronic edge coincide while their vocalist delivers her lines with an airy, sultry tone. This temporarily paired-back start is swiftly cut short though, as GLYTSH burst through for a pre-chorus offering an aggressive wall of noise in more dominant electric guitar strums and their vocalist’s shift into punk-esque screamed lines. Picking up into more of a bright and atmospherically leaning chorus in itself, ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ feels like a song constantly evolving from a grunge skirting, punk twists, moments of metal intensity and soaring alternative-rock highs, leaving you dancing between their differing stylings all meshed together like this is how each genre was always created to be heard. Things reach their ultimate climax in a bursting bridge though showing off the pair’s thundering guitar and hoarsely screamed vocals, which are made all the more gripping in their constant level of confidence that’s both seeping through their skilful performance and made clear through their music video’s clear owning of the stage. At just two and a half minutes in length, GLYTSH constantly know how to leave you wanting more and ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ is no exception, even when they’ve put on a show you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Though heavy as ever in sound, ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ wields a more pained lyrical edge as GLYTSH write about a lost relationship trying to be resurrected in a twisted Frankenstein-esque manner. Merging the realities of the heartbreak that comes with trying to reignite a burnt out flame as well as the more mythical, unnatural edge of otherwordly interference in a literal resurrection, ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ calls upon both the living and the dead to relate for one song only. The darker lyricism of this fatal love shines through immediately, clasped between words like ‘love’s so lethal like a venom, bond underground after the burial’, almost championing a grim Romeo and Juliet affair. As a sacrifice is seemingly allured to in lyrics like ‘I stand here with a blade over my head, remind me what to do’, GLYTSH lean well into the darker side of their message as they make a deal with the devil to give life once again. Hinting even further at Mary Shelley’s unorthodox tale of bringing the dead back to life (at a cost), the pair further express a chilling parallel to the novel that takes their own eerie twists: ‘wake you up dead, take you to my lair.’ It’s poetic and unsettling all at once, a fairytale gone wrong and yet so lyrically encapsulating you don’t want it to stop. For music that takes its inspiration from reality whilst edging into harsher themes, GLYTSH really have you covered in storytelling you can’t tear yourself away from not just singing along but intricately unpacking the meaning behind.

Coming along with a dedicated music video, GLYTSH show off their impressive stage personas in a raucous performance of the song, lit up by a bright pink neon cross. With a similar neon cross a prominent feature in past videos as an ode to their logo, it’s clear GLYTSH love their edgier branding as they sing of this blasphemous resurrection in front of a symbol of holiness to many. Split up by differing shots of the pair shredding guitar and aggressively singing into the mic between flickering VHS effects, this is a video containing all the energy of ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ and more, only making it more exciting to think of the potential GLYTSH have when they finally fit the stage together.

youtube

Check out ‘V.H.S (Vulgar Holy Spirit)’ for yourself here to really feel the impact of GLYTSH’s dominant performance and thrilling lyrical message!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Ulrich Von Trier

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator

#music #singlereview #glytsh #Youtube

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northwest-cryptid · 2 years

Text

I often tell people that it’s so cool to be part of this generation if not only because we get to explore the ruins of the internet that in some small way, we helped shape and grow. Like sure we won��t get to explore space in our lifetime, and we are too late to explore the world; but there’s an entirely new world we created and then seemingly left behind for more centralized hubs and lobbies. For the record I’m all for “de-centralizing the internet” but unfortunately 99% of the time I hear people discuss such topics they quickly transition into making it about basically being racist, homophobic assholes online without consequences... which isn’t really the point of de-centralized internet, at least; not to me. See I think it’s so cool that we as a collective whole created an entirely virtual world where we as human beings just momentarily got to play god, websites weren’t just a sort of thing you could click through, they were the very essence of someone’s aesthetics and interests laid out for a myriad of reasons for anyone to drop by and visit. I won’t get too “whimsical” about it but the way I view old websites and the like is very different from how I often see it talked about. See, I think old websites are a lot closer to a more personalized sort of “world” like we see in things like VRChat, except the way they worked was so cool because your homepage was typically YOUR homepage. A place you designed, a place full of things you liked, or blogs that you wrote; no one could interject or alter your perfect design, no one could tell you what was right or wrong. It simply was your place, your little home on the internet. Websites could contain links to one another creating something called “webrings” where people would basically create chains of links that would direct users between various websites kind of like having a mutual. Instead of a “fandom” you might be part of a “webring” and it made it easy to find other people like you, who might be interested in the same topics. That’s so cool to me! The old internet relics are full of treasure if you go looking, I found a blog someone left behind that simply said “I don’t know if I’ll ever amount to anything, I’m not very good at programming, art, or music. However I wanted to leave something behind, and leave a mark on this world. I want to be here even after my physical body may be long gone. Thank you for visiting my humble blog on the internet, thank you for giving it life and reading the thoughts I have to share.” Which boi that really shook me because it made me realize that I have never met the person who wrote those words, and I likely never will. I wouldn’t even know if I passed them by, and the best part is; none of that matters. There’s no clout chasing or note counts out on the old web, there’s no such thing as popularity. There’s something so pure about someone creating something for themselves, something they wanted to put out into the world, not for anyone but themselves. I don’t really think “centralized internet” is all that bad, but I think it’s lost whatever soul it had, at least to some extent. I feel like we’ll never get that soul back, but I also see it’s still alive, the “old” internet isn’t really dead, it’s just buried. We are able to go there, to explore these forgotten sites, to excavate that treasure and read long forgotten blog posts, to look through pictures taken by photographers who we’ll never know, to explore the lives of artists, weebs, fans, musicians, and everyone who had an interest they wanted to share with the collective internet. If you ask me, there is something genuinely beautiful about the old dying ruins of a passionately created old website that has sat untouched by it’s creator for years. We move ever forward towards the world of VR now, with VRChat worlds and Avatars letting people experience the internet in a whole new light, looking how they want, going where they please. I understand the internet might not be quite what people want it to be, we might look to the future and think “wow they’re going to have full dive VR some day! They’re going to have Augmented Reality in the future! They’re going to have so much more!” Which... sure that could be true, but you know what? They didn’t get to experience what we did, the birth of a whole universe where we, us humans; got to play god.

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nsfw-at-its-finest · 3 years

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Hi! Could I request a Ron Weasley x Bottom Male!Reader smut where they’re in an established relationship and out of Hogwarts and maybe living together, and like Ron is so in love with reader and they have super sweet sexy time with subby bottom reader calling Ron daddy and just like really loving and sweet with aftercare. If not that’s totally fine!! Really excited about this blog though!! 🦕

A/n: MAH BOI RON DESERVES MORE LOVE THANK YOU S/M. I'm so happy you guys are enjoying the blog!!!

Plot: Requested

Paring: Ron Weasley x male reader

Y/n: Your name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

H/h: Hogwarts house

Warnings: SMUT, all characters are 18+, Daddy kink, sweet/loving sex, aftercare, fluff, kissing, cussing, mentions of war and death

Word count: 2150

Y/n was never sure how he had bagged Ronald Weasley as a partner, remembering all the way back in their fourth year of Hogwarts when they’d gone to the Yule ball together.

Y/n had been in H/h and Ron had been in Gryffindor, on different schedules, but always making time for each other.

During 7th year when Ron, Hermione and Harry had disappeared he had been terrified for his boyfriend, scared shitless about the idea of Ron being dead.

Then the battle of Hogwarts happened, they’d won, but lost many friends and family along the way. They’d lost parts of themselves during the war, yet they sought comfort in each other.

5 years had passed since the war, and society had mostly recovered from it, the dead were still honored, and they would never forget, but they had been able to move forward.

One of the ways Y/n and Ron moved forward was designated date night, there were no excuses (Other than work, being sick or other things of importance) that could cancel the night, but for the first time in a while the couple didn’t wish to go out.

Ron had simply ordered take out and the two had lazed about on the couch, Y/n curled against Ron’s chest as they watched some cheesy movie he didn’t focus on.

Instead, his focus was on the man he was currently spread across, feeling the pads of Ron’s fingers running up and down his spine repeatedly.

The heat from the red head’s hand sent tingles of warmth through Y/n’s body, causing him to push back into his hand with a small huff.

Ron looked down, eyebrow quirked at his lover, a playful smile spread across his lips.

“Are you alright there, darling?” He questioned, brushing his thumb across the smaller man’s jaw soothingly.

Y/n hummed and turned his head, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Yeah, just want you.” He replied bluntly, causing his boyfriend to let out an unattractive (Though he found it rather adorable) snort.

“Mm, rather forward tonight, aren’t you?” He questioned, leaning down to press his lips teasingly close to Y/n’s, drawing a displeased sound from him.

“Kiss me you bloody buffoon.” Y/n huffed out, looking up at his lover from under his eyelashes, causing the red head to relent and press their lips together.

The kiss was gentle yet passionate as Ron brought his hand up to cradle the back of Y/n’s head, holding the other male in place as he lightly nipped at his bottom lip.

Y/n opened his mouth obediently, Ron’s tongue delving in to search the now familiar area. Y/n brought his hands up, tangling them into Ron’s messy hair, pulling him closer as he shifted to straddle his lap.

The kiss quickly heated up into something more as Ron ran his free hand down, cupping Y/n’s ass firmly, causing the H/c haired man to let out a groan against his lips, pushing down into his hand.

The red head pulled away, hooded eyes staring at Y/n lovingly as he kissed the other man’s jaw softly.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.” Y/n confirmed, letting out a small yelp as Ron picked him up, holding his ass. Y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck tightly, giving his hair a sharp tug.

“You know I hate that.” He lightly scolded, causing Ron to shoot him an apologetic look.

“Sorry darling.” He leaned up to kiss Y/n’s jaw, momentarily distracting the man as his head tipped to the side with a low sigh, shivering as Ron’s lips ran over the smooth skin.

The larger man carried Y/n off to their shared bedroom, thankfully they lived in a one-story home, so they didn’t need to worry about any stairs.

The red head set his lover down on the fluffy mattress, admiring the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he sat up on his elbows.

Y/n looked up at Ron with a loving look, sitting himself up so he could tug his sweater off. He tossed the fabric to the side, eyes never leaving his lover.

He watched as Ron’s blue eyes trailed down his body, stopping at a patching of scars that spread across his side.

The larger man came forward, the tips of his fingers running over the patchy skin.

“I love you.” Ron said quietly, like it was a secret only to be shared between them. Y/n placed his hand on Ron’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath his palm.

“I love you too, Ron.” Y/n replied in the same voice, leaning up to press their lips together in a much softer kiss than any of the ones before.

The two had many moments like these, where they’d see each other’s scars and remember they almost lost each other, it only reinforced the love they shared.

Ron’s fingers danced across Y/n’s skin delicately, feeling every small mark and blemish, every perfection in his eyes. One hand pushed Y/n back while the other steadied him on the mattress so he wouldn’t fall on his lover.

He pulled away from the kiss, taking a moment to look at Y/n’s face, before leaning down to press kisses across his jaw and neck. His teeth lightly scraped against the skin, but never dared to bite in.

Y/n’s heart was pounding as soft sounds left his lips, his hands running up Ron’s clothed back, before slipping under the hoodie to feel the never-ending pale skin covered in freckles.

Ron only pulled back for a second to gracefully take his hoodie off in one move, throwing it to the side as Y/n stared up at his beautiful scar marred body like he was a God amongst men.

Y/n ran his fingers up Ron’s stomach, feeling the muscles tense under his fingertips, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

“I’m not the only needy one.” He teased his boyfriend, earning an eyeroll from Ron.

“Oh, shush it.” He replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his shoulder before his head moved lower. His lips explored Y/n’s chest, kissing, and licking the sensitive skin with expertise as he brought a hand up to tweak Y/n’s nipple.

The said man gasped and writhed under Ron, his E/c eyes screwed shut and his chest arched up into Ron’s touch. His finger’s dug into the red head’s shoulder, falling apart under Ron’s experienced touch.

Y/n lifted his hips happily when Ron tugged at his sweats, feeling his boxers come down with his trousers. A flush spread across his skin, never getting used to the vulnerability of being naked in front of someone.

Ron ran his fingers over Y/n’s inner thighs, watching as the muscles tensed under his touch with a pleased look.

The larger man leaned over to their bed side, grabbing the bottle of lube he always kept on hand. The wizard coated a finger generously, before looking down at his lover.

“Are you ready, love?” He questioned, his other hand soothingly rubbing his side. Y/n nodded, opening his hypnotizing E/c eyes to look up at Ron.

“I’m ready.” He assured Ron with a smile, pressing his hips down against Ron’s touch.

Y/n shivered as he felt the pad of Ron’s finger run over his hole, slicking it up before slowly pushing a finger in. It didn’t burn anymore, his body now used to the intrusion.

The smaller male let out a low moan as he felt Ron begin to slowly push his finger in and out, slowly stretching him out and prepping him.

Y/n pressed down into Ron’s hand, pants leaving his mouth as his eyes screwed up, head tipping back against the pillow.

Ron soon added a second finger, curling and scissoring his fingers, pride spreading through his chest when Y/n’s back arched off the bed with a loud cry of pleasure as Ron’s fingers brushed over his prostate.

He continued to finger the smaller man until he felt like he was ready to take him, pulling his fingers out. Y/n let out a low whine, eyes cracking open to look up at Ron.

“Oi, why you stopping?” The man breathed out, a pout on his lips. Ron chuckled lowly, brushing his thumb over Y/n’s bottom lip.

“Would you rather me finger you or fuck you?” Ron questioned, causing the pout to quickly disappear from his lover’s face.

“Never mind, continue.” As Ron rubbed lube across his cock, Y/n spoke up once more, albeit much shyer this time.

“Can I ride you tonight?” Ron let out a low groan at the very idea, his hand running up Y/n’s side.

“Of course, love.” Ron replied, flopping onto his back, and situating himself so he was comfortable.

His hands rested on Y/n’s hips to steady him as the H/c haired man straddled him, grabbing Ron’s cock, and lining it up.

He slid down with ease, a high keen leaving his lips as his hole clenched around Ron. His hands rested on Ron’s sun kissed chest, steadying himself as he took a moment to adjust.

Ron could only stare up at his lover with pure adoration in his eyes, his heart swelling as he watched Y/n’s every movement.

He would forever be thankful for the fates crossing their paths and throwing them together. All the pain he had ever gone through was well worth it to see Y/n every morning when he woke up.

Y/n slowly lifted his hips, before dropping them down again, moans spilling from his lips as he repeated the movements.

The physical pleasure of sex was wonderful yes, but Y/n loved how close it made him feel to Ron, to truly be filled by the man he loved more than anything.

Y/n continued to roll and bounce his hips, a soft ‘daddy’ spilling from his lips on accident, causing Ron to buck his hips up to meet Y/n, the two letting out sounds of pleasure that mixed.

Ron ran his hands up Y/n’s sides, fingers landing on his nipples and beginning to pinch the hard buds.

“You’re so good for daddy.” The man cooed out, it wasn’t a kink they explored often, but when they did, it gave Ron a delicious power high that he’d never take advantage of.

“Bloody hell you look gorgeous.” Ron leaned up, using one of his hands to keep them stable as he pressed a kiss against Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n wrapped his arms around Ron’s neck, burying his face into the other man’s shoulder with a moan of pleasure as Ron bucked his hips up once more.

His fingers curled into Ron’s hair, tugging on the ginger locks as Ron sucked bruises into the smaller man’s skin.

“Fuck, daddy please.” Y/n whined out, his back arching into the other man as Ron met his rolling with a thrust, his eyes rolling back with pleasure minutely.

“Do you want to cum love?” Ron questioned, looking up at his lover with blown pupils, lips attaching to any skin they could reach, high on the beautiful sound’s Y/n was making.

“Y-yes!” He squeaked, tugging rather harshly on Ron’s hair as he hit that sweet spot inside him that made his toes curl.

Ron leaned up, lips brushing against Y/n’s ear lobe.

“Cum for daddy.” He purred, watched as Y/n cried out his name like a prayer, swears leaving his lips as he came.

Ron followed soon after, Y/n clenching around him deliciously, kissing the other man and praising him through their highs.

Once they’d both come down, Ron delicately picked Y/n up, placing him on the bed.

“I’m going to run us a bath darling.” Ron spoke softly, running his fingers through Y/n’s H/c hair.

Y/n made a sound of agreement, leaning into his lover’s touch. Ron pressed a kiss to his temple before heading to the bathroom. He started the bath, making sure to add Y/n’s favorite soaps and smells to help him relax.

Ron was only gone for a few moments, returning quickly to find a very sleepy Y/n waiting for him. The man didn’t speak, only held out his arms for Ron.

The man chuckled lightly, picking up Y/n with ease as he headed towards the bathroom, setting Y/n in the bath carefully before climbing in behind him.

Y/n melted against Ron’s chest, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“I love you, Ronnie.” Y/n spoke softly, entangling their fingers and holding their hands against his chest.

“I love you too Y/n, more than anything.” Ron leaned down, pressing a kiss to his head before nosing his hair quietly.

The world was a scary place, but they were all learning to move on, and Ron was happy he was able to move on with Y/n by his side.

#harry potter #Ron weasley #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter x male reader #Ron Weasley x reader #Ron Weasley x male reader #smut

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burningupp · 3 years

Text

written under the cut!

eighteen: stupid

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Immediately after you send the text, you hear the telltale sound of a FaceTime-call breaking through the silence of your apartment. It makes you smile, and shift to sit more upright on the couch - Jimin may be a friend, one of the best ones you've ever had if you're honest, but you don't find the thought of exposing him to your double chin while you lay down particularly enticing.

Since Jimin (and Taehyung, but you try not to let your thoughts linger on him too much) left, talking to the cheerful man had become like habit. He always texted you good morning, asked how your day was when you got home, and wished you sweet dreams before sleeping. Unlike Rosie, he actually took his time to listen and hear you out just as you did the same for him.

No shade to your long-time best friend, but she wasn't particularly attentive to others; an unfortunate trait she had always carried with her.

As soon as you pressed the green button on your screen, Jimin's smiling face made an appearance. The sight of him pulled a smile onto your features, one you couldn't have fought off if you wanted to - the man knew how to cheer someone up.

Jimin seemed to be in a living room of some sort, something that you found rather surprising. The other times the two of you had FaceTimed, he made it a point to provide the both of you with the privacy of his room, door shut tight. You didn't mind much, but the unfamiliar background intrigued you.

"Y/n!" Jimin exclaimed, that large smile never leaving his features.

"Hi Jimin," you smiled back.

Though your greeting may not have been quite as enthusiastic, you were in fact very happy to see your friend. Your days were spent in a kindergarten, after all, and as much as you adored the kids you cared for, they weren't very good conversationalists just yet. Besides, aside from Rosie, you didn't have many friends, definitely none you considered close, in any case. Jimin's presence in your life, in short, was a welcome one.

"How you holding up?" the smiling man asked, gaze softening.

"I told you I'm alright, Min," you chuckled, glaring at him playfully. "I'm not a child."

"I know, but I care about you, love," he answered, pouting a little. It made you giggle at him.

As bothered as you were because of the whole Taehyung-situation, you figured it was no use dwelling too much on it; if he was upset, you didn't know why, and if he expected an apology, he would have to man up and ask for one. You felt guilty, of course you did – it was in your nature to do your best to always keep all your relationships amicable. Still, there wasn’t much you could do if you didn’t even know what to apologize for.

“I know, thank you for your concern,” you told him, smiling sweetly.

“No problem,” the man grinned back, and you briefly reflected on his ability to shift emotions with such speed. “Anyway, I’m sorry for saying those things about Rosie, that was not very cool of me.”

You bristled a little at that, not even having thought much about his less than kind words towards your best friend. Honestly, they were kind of true – Rosie really shouldn’t have gone through your phone without your permission, and definitely shouldn’t have taken Taehyung’s number without yours (or his) permission at all. However, you were very much used to her antics, and therefore tended to gloss over things like this.

“Ah no, it’s okay,” you told your friend, waving him off. “She can be a bit much at times… it does feel a little bit weird when you don’t know her, I suppose.”

Jimin hummed a little, a crease appearing between his brows. He didn’t want to tell you, but he thought Rosie was a horrible influence on you; he thought you deserved much better friends in general, if he was honest. He had heard about her from you, and while you tended to sugarcoat most things in life, the things he heard were still a bit appalling despite it. On top of that, he had seen the way Rosie acted around Taehyung, and the fact that she was manipulating him understandably didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I guess that might be true,” he agreed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his opinions on the matter. “Aside from… that whole situation, how are you doing?”

This question caused you some distress. Your gaze fell upon your coffee table, littered with mountainous piles of papers and books, your laptop open in the middle, glaring its bright white light at you. You bit your lip, stress swelling in your chest and threatening to consume you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath – nothing good would come from stressing about the situation.

“Y/n?” Jimin asked after a few seconds of silence.

Your eyes were burning with the effort of keeping your tears at bay, but you still answered the man as calmly as you could.

“I’m okay. A bit stressed, is all,” you said, tacking on a chuckle at the end as to not clue the man in on your severe distress.

“How come?”

“This one teacher… She was pregnant. Keyword ‘was’. She was in her 36th week when she went into labor, meaning she still had lessons to plan all the way until summer, and she had two weeks left until her maternity leave. Now we have to plan all her lessons quickly, because we have to bring in a substitute and it’s just—” you stopped yourself, taking another deep breath before you hurled all over your fairly new couch. “It’s just a lot.”

Jimin frowned at you through the screen. He could definitely see the dark circles under your eyes, and the mess your hair was due to the incessant pulling. He could see a coffee stain on your sweatshirt, too, and when you covered your face with your hands, your bitten-down nails also became apparent. He really felt for his friend, and wished he could relieve your stress somehow.

Just as he was about to suggest taking a break or a vacation or something, you saw another man walk up behind him. Despite looking the band up online (purely to be able to keep up with Jimin’s stories about his life), you could not place who the unfamiliar man was at first. He had broad shoulders, was reasonably tall, and had brown, messy hair. From the looks of it, the man was about to walk straight past Jimin, before he stopped dead.

“Hey, who are you talking to?”

The man padded up behind your friend, leaning in to see the phone screen. Jimin jumped as soon as he heard his friend speak up, clutching his chest and glaring at the man.

“Yah hyung, you scared me,” he whined, and you giggled, your stress momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, is that Y/n?”

Now that the unfamiliar man was so close, you could identify him as Seokjin, the oldest member of the band. You smiled bashfully and waved a little. “Hi.”

You had never talked to Seokjin before, but he gave off a very friendly aura, even through your phone screen. He smiled back at you, and waved a little too.

“Nice to finally see your face,” he grinned, and your eyes widened. “Taehyung talked a lot about you.”

At the mention of your childhood friend’s name, you froze. Jimin was very good at avoiding mentioning his name, but of course, Seokjin wouldn’t know that the two of you were… not on the best terms at the moment. So, you swallowed down the sudden melancholy that washed over you, and tried your best to smile. It sort of worked.

“Ah, well that’s nice of him. Seokjin, right?” you settled for asking, not wishing to dwell on Taehyung for too long.

“Call me Jin,” the man told you kindly before turning to Jimin. “Our car is here to take us to practice.”

Your sweet friend groaned loudly, pouting at the camera. “I guess I have to go,” he said grumpily.

“I guess you do,” you giggled as Jimin stood up from the couch. “Don’t work too hard and take plenty of breaks, okay? You too Jin!”

You saw Jin pause at your words, turning to grin at the phone once more. “You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

His words made you blush, because you weren’t very used to compliments, but you appreciated them nonetheless. Jimin was quick to agree with his hyung, reiterating how sweet and kind you were, and your face flamed even hotter.

“Yah, let’s go!” you heard a shout from the background.

“Alright, now I really have to go,” muttered Jimin, smiling softly at you. “Please don’t overwork yourself. You won’t be any good to those kids if you’re burnt out, you know.”

You returned his smile easily. “I will do my best. Now go before someone bursts a blood vessel!”

Jimin giggled before saying a quick goodbye, followed by a shouted one from Jin. Before the screen went dark, though, you saw a man with curly hair walking out the door.

You hated the way your heart sped up at the sight of him.

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midnightwinterhawk · 3 years

Text

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom for the inspiration.

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos, it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

#hurt/comfort #angst #dark #hurt/no comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #be kind to yourself and mind the tags #Sterek #Steter #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Peter Hale #hurt Stiles Stilinski #Sterek fic #Steter fic #to the pain

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