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divine-knight-hand · 7 months

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The Ball of the Red Death

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist

Pairing: Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader

Summary: A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong?

Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot

Notes: I started writing this because I originally wanted Loki and the reader to have a kind of Gomez and Morticia vibe, but this ended up going in a very different direction.

I reccomend listening to this (TikTok Video) or this (Spotify) during the waltz scene. You can thank me later~

Word Count: 6,905 (Sorry about that, but I believe in y’all!)

Dividers by @chachachannah

“…‘And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.’” I closed the book I was holding and let out a satisfied sigh. “Poe’s commentary on mortality never disappoints.”

Loki and I were resting comfortably in our shared bedroom in the castle. Sometimes, when we had idle time together, I would read aloud from my collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories as he attentively listened, closing his eyes as if he could hang on to my every word. This time, I had just finished reading The Masque of the Red Death —a short story that I’d read about a million times prior to this. Needless to say, it was my favorite one in the collection.

“I find Prince Prospero rather insufferable.” Loki frowned, his head comfortably nestled in my lap. “He didn’t even hesitate to shut the sick out to die. He cared not for his kingdom. He merely cared for the throne. His methods are those born of blatant greed and ignorance.”

I dropped my book on a nearby nightstand before reaching down to softly scratch his raven locks. “Lest we forget, you were once mad for power.”

The god sighed under my touch, closing his eyes. “And I would have done well with it. Asgard would truly prosper with me as its king.”

“I’m sure it would.” I smirked at his witty response. “Enough with the scary stories, anyway. I have more important things to tend to.” I let go of his hair, waiting for him to move his head from my lap. He didn’t budge.

“‘More important things to tend to’?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I would choose your words more carefully, darling.”

I instantly felt guilty for my poor choice of words. “Loki, as much as I love spending time with you, you know I have to meet with Frigga to discuss-”

“The royal feast preparations.” He finished for me. “I’m aware.” He looked up at me, his blue eyes filled with longing. “Each moment I’m without you brings me closer to madness. Perhaps you’ve managed to enchant me, after all.”

“You know I couldn’t possibly do that, no matter how much experience I earn in my craft.” I tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I promise you, my absence will only last as long as the blink of an eye.”

Loki sat up beside me. “I’m doubtful, but I will concede.” I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before he continued. “Stop tempting me and go before I change my mind and keep you here for myself.”

I chuckled to myself as I finally rose from the bed and strolled over to the door. “You won’t even have the time to miss me.”

Loki simply let out a low hum in response as I shut the door behind me.

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

I made sure to keep in step alongside Frigga as we strolled through the palace gardens. She wore an expression of immense confusion. “Are you absolutely sure you wish to convert the feast to a ball? You do realize the event is tomorrow, and a ball requires much more preparation than a feast, correct?”

“Have you no faith in my planning prowess?” I teased. “I’m absolutely positive. I have grand ideas, and I feel a simple feast wouldn’t do them justice at all.”

“I suppose that makes sense…” Frigga seemed hesitant to agree with me.

“Oh! There’s one more thing I feel inclined to add.” I twiddled my fingers in front of me as we walked. “I wish to plan this event on my own from here on out.”

Frigga’s eyes widened. “You wish to make this event your own? This is a royal event, lest you forget!”

“I’m well aware, my queen.” I reassured her. “I simply wish to take matters into my own hands and allow for the royal family to indulge in the resulting revelry.”

A strange, uncharacteristic darkness crept over her features. “Something tells me this isn’t your true intention.”

“Nonsense!” I waved my hand. “It’s all in good fun, I assure you.”

Frigga froze for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. “I’ll be speaking with the Allfather. We need his approval for this change in arrangements, after all.”

We both stopped in our tracks, and I flashed her the sweetest smile I could muster. “Lovely! I thank you for your consideration on the matter.”

Frigga met me with a frightened look. “Sure… Yes- Well, I’ll be on my way!” With that, she hurried out of the gardens, as if she couldn’t get away from me quickly enough.

What a shame. I sighed as I watched her go. I do hope I didn’t let on too much…

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

Odin grumbled at the documents in front of him. He hated signing laws into action, but they were a responsibility of his. He took pride in his work, no matter how mundane it became.

Tap! Tap! Tap! He rubbed the bridge of his nose as a soft rapping sounded at the door. He wasn’t as pleased with distractions.

“Enter!” He called, sitting up straight in his chair.

Frigga entered the room, clutching the front of her dress in an anxious disposition. “Allfather! There’s something important I must discuss with you.”

“Of course!” His booming voice practically rattled the castle walls. “What must we discuss, my dear?”

“It’s about the royal feast.” She nervously wrung her hands. “Lady Y/N wishes for it to be a ball instead…” Odin arched an eyebrow at her before she continued, “and she wishes to take on sole responsibility of planning it.”

“THE GALL!” He roared. “She’s casting you from the planning council? Who does that woman think she is?!”

“She claims it to be all in good fun…” Frigga’s voice trailed off into uncertainty.

“Yet you seem apprehensive.” Odin observed.

Frigga took a deep breath. “I sensed malicious intent in her. I fear the worst for our family. I fear the worst for our people.”

Odin sighed. He wanted nothing more than to have Loki’s concubine of a lover locked away in the dungeons for the rest of her days. There was something about her that just irked him, but he could never place his finger on it.

However, as the conversation drew on, Odin felt a change in him, and new thoughts began to creep into his mind. Lady Y/N didn’t seem as repulsive to him. If anything, he was curious as to what she had in store for the ball. She said it was all in good fun, after all. What would be the harm in giving his wife some time to relax? In front of him, Frigga’s eyes darted around the room as if she was searching for something.

Odin cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “Give the lady full control of the event. I want every event planner in Asgard at her disposal. Her ideas deserve to be realized, and I wish to see what she has in store for us.”

Frigga audibly gasped. “But, Allfather-”

“Silence!” He waved her off. “I’ve made my decision. Now be off! I have duties to attend to.”

Frigga looked dumbfounded, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to formulate a response. She never found her voice. She respectfully curtsied and rushed out of the room, leaving Odin to tend to his papers.

My fingers tingled with magic and excitement as I observed the scene from the rafters. This was all coming together too perfectly. Enchanting the Allfather was the easy part. It was no simple task to fool a master sorceress, however. Especially one as experienced and well-versed in Asgardian magic as Frigga. The thrill of almost being caught sent another jolt of electricity coursing under my skin. This is just too perfect!

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

The following night, Fandral stood at the bottom of the grand staircase in the ballroom, which was decorated in elegant shades of red and gold. He himself was outfitted in crimson fabrics, and the attention of every partygoer was fixed on him.

“Welcome, everyone, to the Red Ball.” His voice projected throughout the room. “I see most of you abided by the dress code ordained by the coordinator of this event. Others… not so much.” He passive-aggressively cleared his throat. “Before we proceed with the festivities, it is my utmost honor and privilege to introduce the royal family, as well as their partners. I first present to you the Allfather, Asgard’s king, Odin, with his wife, our beloved queen, Frigga.”

The partygoers roared as Fandral stepped aside, leaving Odin and Frigga space to descend the stairs, arms interlocked. Odin was decorated in gold armor, and Frigga in a large and flowy red dress, a crown adorned in blood-red jewels resting atop her neatly coiled hair. The two were a paragon of a royal couple, descending the stairs in an air of grace and power.

Fandral bowed to the couple as they made their way off of the staircase before resituating himself where he stood prior. “Now I present their eldest son, and prince of Asgard, Thor Odinson, with his partner, hailing from Midgard, Jane Foster.”

Fandral stepped aside as Thor and Jane made their way down the stairs holding hands. The crowd roared again as the couple approached. Thor wore a tunic of red and silver, while Jane wore an equally red hoopless ball gown.

Once again, Fandral bowed and returned to the center of the bottom step to announce the final pair. “And now, last but not least, I present the youngest prince of Asgard, Loki Odinson, with his partner, who attended to planning this very ball, Y/N L/N.”

Atop the stairs, I felt my heart leap into my throat at the sound of my name. This was it. This was the moment everything would be set in motion. I smoothed my hands over the front of my crimson velvet dress before Loki locked one of my arms in his. He wore a tunic similar to his traditional choice, the only difference being that he swapped the green hue for red, as per my request. He tried to argue his way out of giving up his favorite color, but caved when I insisted.

“Don’t worry yourself.” He leaned in to whisper, merely inches from my ear. “Your beauty would make the very stars themselves whisper in envy, my enchantress. If nothing else, you are not the problem.”

I smiled before whispering back, “Thank you, my love. Never does a moment go by where you’re at a loss for the perfect words.”

He motioned his hand towards the stairs. “Shall we?”

I made a small nod. “We shall.”

With that, we began our descent on the stairs, turning onto the grand staircase, where the crowd could finally set their eyes on us. Scattered cheers erupted into loud applause as I set my hand in a delicate wave.

Loki gently nudged my shoulder as we neared the bottom step. “See, darling? They love you.”

“Nonsense, my prince.” I smirked. “Your royal visage is distracting them from mine.”

He lightly sighed. “Must you always evade my reassurance?”

“Not at all.” I responded, taking the opportunity to glance in his direction. “I just stand to reason that your approval is the only one that matters to me. I don’t need that of others.”

Loki and I stood alongside the rest of the royal family as Fandral wrapped up his introductions. “Now that I’ve introduced our esteemed royal family, let the festivities begin!”

At his words, the ballroom came alive. A band in the corner of the room began playing a slow orchestral waltz and couples began pairing up and swaying to the music, forming a sea of red with the occasional off-color sprinkled in. Black-suited figures entered the room carrying trays of drinks and finger foods to pass to hungry dancers. As I observed the scene, I felt a sense of pride swelling inside of me. Any minute now. It’ll be any minute now. I felt the corners of my lips upturn as my fingers began to tingle.

My gaze met Loki’s. “I can’t believe this is really happening!”

I fought to keep my smile from growing too wide. Damnit! Tone it down before you appear suspicious. Then again, it would be safe to consider that anyone in the room would assume that my excitement came from enjoyment of the party.

Loki warmly smiled at me. “You did well in planning this event.”

“The best is yet to come.” I winked, noticing Frigga stiffen in the corner of my eye. The song changed to one with a bit of a quicker tempo, eliciting the same change in speed from the dancers.

Odin clapped his hands, bringing the attention of the royal family and their partners to him. “I believe it is time for us to enjoy a dance as well.” He held a hand out to Frigga. “My wife.” She took his outstretched hand in hers with a small smile before he led her away from the rest of us.

“I’m assuming that’s my cue.” Thor held a hand out for Jane, who let out a small chuckle as she took his hand.

“Well done! This is amazing!” She called out to me before disappearing with her lover among the sea of dancers.

I turned to Loki with an eyebrow raised, and he quickly understood what I wanted from him, extending a hand towards me. “Care to dance, darling?”

I couldn’t hide the grin spreading across my mouth this time. “Let’s!”

I took his hand and he led me to the center of the dance floor. He then held his hands at my waist and I rested mine on his shoulders. We fell into step, dancing something similar to a formal ballroom dance, but with some elements that were more casual than traditional.

As we danced, Loki leaned in to mutter, “Darling, may I ask you a question?”

“What’s plaguing your mind, my love?” I gave one of his shoulders a squeeze.

“Your guest list seems rather…” His voice trailed off as his eyes quickly scanned the room before returning to mine. “How did you manage to gather so many people from the dungeon? This doesn’t seem safe, nor plausible.”

I waved my hand at his concern before returning it to his shoulder. “Worry not about that. They won’t be stirring any trouble tonight.”

“And you can guarantee that?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Indeed, I can.” I warmly smiled at him. “Besides, everyone deserves a chance to enjoy the festivities, don’t they?”

“I suppose…” Then, a look of realization crossed his features, and he sighed, a disappointed sound coming from a suddenly amused expression. “You’ve enchanted them, haven’t you?”

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “Guilty as charged.”

He lightly chuckled, his amusement pulling a grin from his lips. “I see no harm in the matter, then.”

We continued to dance to the music, my dress swishing with each movement as he held me, spun me, and dipped me. As extravagant as our dancing may have seemed, he never attempted a move that would be too much for me. He knew all the moves I could comfortably perform, and would always dance accordingly. Sometimes, I worried that I was holding him back, but he always assured me that there was no one he’d rather dance with than me. He really knew how to make me feel special.

All things considered, it was a wonder I didn’t trip over myself. My eyes remained glued to his, and his to mine. He was gorgeous, and I didn’t want him out of my sight for a second. Each moment I danced with him was a moment where everything else faded away. It was as if we were alone in the ballroom, dancing simply for our own enjoyment. I would stay with him like this forever if I could.

Unfortunately, forever didn’t last, and the song ended up changing to a more lively piece, sending the rest of the dancers into a frenzy.

I decided I wanted to take this moment to step away. “Loki?”

“Yes, darling?” He slowed to a stop as I did.

“Can we go to the balcony?” I gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

I could almost see the gears in his mind turning as he considered this. “Of course.”

We interlocked arms and made our way back towards the grand staircase, Fandral spying us on the way. “Leaving so soon?” He called, unceasing in his dance with his partner.

“We will return, of course!” I waved with my free arm. “The night isn’t nearly over.”

Loki and I practically dashed up the stairs and down the hall to an inner balcony, which overlooked the ballroom dance floor. We had an overhead view of the sea of dancers below, each creating their own wave of crimson.

I let go of Loki to grab the banister, sighing as I looked on. “It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

I felt his arms wrap around my waist as his head came to a rest on my shoulder. “This is all your doing, my dear. I have not the words to describe my pride in you, both for the event you carefully planned and for your great magical improvement.”

“Thank you, my love.” My lips curved into another smile as his pride filled me with my own. “Do you know why I chose the theme that I did?”

Loki hummed thoughtfully before answering. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

I stretched my arm over the party below. “Look at all those people. Every single one in here has something they’re trying to escape. Something they’re trying to avoid . They bide their time ignoring a malignant problem that doesn’t fade away. It festers, it grows, and someday, it drowns them.”

“How delightful…” Loki didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“I know it’s morbid.” I lightly chuckled. “But inspiration struck, and that, I couldn’t ignore. Consider this an escape from what is a tiresome reality.”

“Alright,” A moment of silence passed between us as he let go of me and situated himself next to me. He spoke up again, “Why, then, did you ask a majority of us to wear red?” His hands reached forward to grab the banister.

I softly placed one of mine over one of his. “I believe you should instead be asking why some didn’t.”

Loki seemed to carefully consider this as he examined the dancers below. “It seems all the nobles and most of the royalty in attendance are wearing other colors.” He pointed out the wealthy and the royals from other realms, who were, in fact, devoid of the red color that everyone else wore in abundance.

“Very good.” I slid behind him and snaked my arms around his waist, pulling myself into him as I neared his cheek with my lips–which I conveniently left unpainted–and lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “You’re so observant, my love.”

Loki shuddered. “Darling… I’m still unclear on your motives.”

“All will be revealed in due time.” I coaxed his face in the direction of mine. “Be patient, my prince.”

The air between us seemed to crackle with electricity. I brought my forehead to his, closing some of the distance between us.

“We’ve been gone for some time,” Loki breathed. “The others will talk.”

“Let them.” I finally closed the distance between us with a kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him like it would be my last time. I wanted to drink him in. I never wanted to forget this feeling.

When we broke our kiss, Loki breathily asked, “And what of having patience?”

“You, my love, are the only thing that can make waiting feel torturous.” I sighed, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time, I heard a low hum escape him as we connected. His arms reciprocated my embrace, warming my body and heart.

When we broke our kiss again for air, Loki’s cheeks were dusted a light pink, and his lips were curved into the smallest smirk.

“You little minx.” He teased. “Have you no intention of returning to the event you planned?”

“Of course, I do!” I playfully scoffed, letting go of him and turning to walk away. “But, if you wish to hurry me off, then…”

“Wait!” Loki grabbed my arm, pulling me back to him. “Just once more.” He insisted before pulling me into a final, hungry kiss.

I felt his hand work its way into my hair, the other playing at my waist. I slid mine up his chest until I interlocked them behind his neck.

He sighed against my mouth before breaking the kiss. We were left gasping in each other’s arms, smiling like fools. But, we knew we weren’t fools. We were in love.

“I hope you know, I didn’t actually intend on walking away from you.” I breathlessly admitted.

“I know.” Loki smirked. “I simply enjoy indulging in your little games.”

My ears perked at the sound of a glass chiming. “Oh! I genuinely must be away now.”

“Allow me to escort you back to the festivities, darling.” Loki kissed the crown of my head before we rushed to fix our hair and return to the ball.

Fandral stood at the bottom of the stairs, the attention of the partygoers on him once again, with a glass in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. “There she is! The delicate and fair princess chooses to grace us with her presence once again… and Lady Y/N appears, as well.”

Loki rolled his eyes as I stifled a giggle at Fandral’s dramatic foolishness. “You two can save your childish banter for later. I believe I must take care of something now.”

“But, of course, my lady!” Fandral turned back to the crowd, tapping his spoon against the glass to make another chiming sound. “Now I ask for your attention as we hear a few words from Lady Y/N.”

The crowd applauded as Fandral and Loki walked off, leaving me at the bottom of the grand staircase. Loki glared daggers at the giddy blonde. He would remember that insult for a long time to come.

I had to stifle another giggle by clearing my throat before addressing the audience. “Thank you all so kindly for attending this ball. I worked very hard to put all of this together.” I opened my arms in a grand gesture and the partygoers erupted into applause.

I only spoke again once the applause died down. “With the creation of the Red Ball, I had a vision.” I began to pace in front of the bottom step. “A vision that no one has ever dared to enact before. I’ve brought together royals and delinquents alike in a display of unity.” More cheers filled the ballroom before I could continue. “But one question remains. Unity through what? What unites us? How can royals, commonfolk, and dungeon convicts be linked in any way?” The room went silent, the only sound filling the hall being my voice. “Well, there’s one thing that unites us. One thing that the royals gleefully ignore, but it looms over the heads of commoners. It’s punctuated by each ticking of the clock. It creeps in with every breath we take. It sweeps through every corridor we dare to step through, and it… is… red.”

Whoosh! All of the lights in the hall were suddenly extinguished, and a few screams were heard before the room came alive with scattered whispers and mutters.

“Please remain calm!” Odin’s voice reverberated around the room. “The lights will return shortly.”

A large pair of arms wrapped around me and I let out a surprised yelp. “Darling! Are you alright?”

“Loki?” I let out a relieved chuckle and settled into his embrace. “I’m okay. I just… What happened to the lights?”

“We’ve got servants looking into it.” Loki reassured me. “Odin believes the lights will return soon.”

“How soon?” My voice oozed with feux concern. I was relieved that the darkness was enough to hide the smirk playing at my lips.

A blood-curdling scream sounded from across the room before quickly tapering off into a gurgling cough, followed by a dull thud. The room plummeted into another silence before more screams of the same fashion filled the void of sound.

Loki’s arms tightened around me. “We need to get out of here.” He growled in my ear. “Now.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary.” I reassured him.

“What?” He sounded flabbergasted.

“‘And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death.’” I quoted. “‘He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel,’.”

Loki began to sound desperate. “Please, darling, begin to make sense again. I know not what you’re speaking of.”

With that, the lights returned, revealing the red splatters of blood around the ballroom. The dungeon escapees I invited were gone, replaced with figures wearing masks–ghoulish pale faces covered in red blotches—that resembled victims of the Red Death from Poe’s short story. Each one carried a knife, as instructed… Well, as instructed by the enchantment they were under.

The only partygoers left alive were those who wore red. They screamed and sobbed at the carnage that was created around them.

“What the Hel is going on?!” Loki squeezed me tighter to his chest, shock coloring his tone.

“I suppose the name of the ball was a tad misleading.” I mused, “I do believe The Ball of the Red Death would be a much more appropriate title.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki released me from his grip. I turned to face him as his hands ghosted my upper arms. His eyes were blown with disbelief at my commentary. “Did you have something to do with this?”

I darkly chuckled. “No, my love. I had everything to do with this.”

His eyes grew wide. “Wh- What?”

I walked my fingers up his shoulder. “In a world where the privileged forget their place, someone has to act to remind them that even they can’t escape their demise. Consider this a wake up call.”

Loki seemed puzzled. “You’re still speaking in fragments.” His brow creased in concentration before he spoke again. “While we were alone, you mentioned that people escaped something that only festered. Is this what you meant? Death?!” I responded with a silent nod as he scanned the room. “And the victims… They weren’t wearing red. None of them were.”

“Using the term ‘victims’ to refer to these over-privileged assholes is a bit of a stretch, if I do say so myself.” I insisted, “But, yes. The dead attempted to avoid the red… Well, they weren’t ordered to wear red in the first place, but my metaphor still stands.”

“I- I-” Loki was at a loss for words.

“I can understand your confusion, but I assure you there’s a method to my perceived madness.” I slowly approached him and caressed his cheek. “Commoners face death and ailment every day, only for their problems to be ignored and even trivialized by the royally and monetarily privileged. I’m merely reminding them that they’re no farther above the rest of their people. Is that so foul?”

The god puzzled this over for a moment before another scream filled the room. It was then that Thor found us, with Jane at his side.

The two ran up to us, Jane’s voice wavering with panic. “We have to get out of here!”

“Brother, get Jane and Y/N to safety!” Thor commanded, sounding as loud as his father would as he summoned his hammer. “I’ll hold off the murderers until your return.” The blonde sped off before Loki could respond.

I gingerly rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Jane seems shaken. Take her away, then come find me again.”

Loki considered this, his jaw clenching as he rapidly scanned the room, before swiftly leaving with Jane. I smiled as I watched him leave, sounds of thunder and violence crescendoing behind me as I drew a knife from under the skirts of my dress. There was one more thing I had to take care of.

.·:*¨༺♚༻¨*:·.

It didn’t take long for me to tie up that last loose end. After discarding the knife and cleaning all the blood off of my skin, I was strolling through the halls–the sounds of metal clanging and bodies thudding fading into background noise–when Loki nearly ran into me.

“Gods!” He exclaimed in surprise. “I was just looking for you.”

“Loki!” I smiled warmly. “It was about time you found me.”

A moment of charged silence hung between us before he spoke up again. “You did all of this by yourself?”

“Hardly.” I waved my hand dismissively at the idea. “I had the entire planning committee, as well as those confined to the dungeons, at my disposal… with a little convincing, of course.” I held up my hand and let small tendrils of magic play at my fingertips to emphasize my point.

“You amaze me.” He breathlessly chuckled. “Truly, you amaze me.”

“You don’t despise me for the chaos I’ve caused?” This time, I was surprised.

“Darling,” He cupped my face in his hands, and I felt sparks tingle to life under my skin. “You’re speaking to the god of mischief. I’m not averse to chaos in the slightest. Yes, your planning was a bit bold… and unorthodox, if I do say so myself… but I could never despise you.” I cupped one of his hands in mine as he continued. “Besides, I do believe I’ve figured out the theme behind your little games.”

A smirk tugged at my lips. “Oh, really? Do tell, then, what my true motives were.”

“You’ve had quite the obsession with Edgar Allen Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death . I have reason to believe our reading of that little story inspired you to act on your own beliefs.” He leaned in until our noses were nearly touching. “And after listening to you speak tonight, I have reason to believe that your motivation is rather agreeable.”

“Oh, Loki,” I let out a sigh as my eyes fluttered shut. “I’m glad we ended up on the same page. Truly, I worried-”

Loki cut off my sentence by slamming into me with a passionate kiss. I let out a soft moan as my hands trailed up his back to tangle themselves in his soft inky locks.

When we broke from the kiss, gasping for air, he reassured me between breaths. “You have no reason to worry. The royal court will have no knowledge of what transpired tonight. To them, this will be an uprising planned by the criminals who will be heading back to the dungeons after the battle dies down.” I silently nodded, my hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

He softly chuckled at my suddenly diverted attention. “You’ve been getting distracted so easily.”

“Your elegance is distracting.” I remarked, bringing my body closer to his.

“Then, forget the ball entirely.” He closed the gap between us with a quick kiss before continuing. “Let us retire to our chambers, hm?”

“I like the way you think~” At my words, Loki picked me up and carried me bridal-style all the way to our shared room, the sounds of violence fading away into complete silence as we swiftly moved through each palace hall.

I couldn’t help but giggle as our bedroom door slammed shut behind him, his stride unbreaking until he laid me down onto the bed. “You’ve done a great deal of work up until now, haven’t you?” He crawled on top of me, his hair falling around our faces, before pulling me into another kiss.

As his trail of kisses moved down along my neck, I shuddered. “I’m still surprised my strange methods for change haven’t turned you away.”

“Oh, darling,” Loki groaned. “I am no stranger to the madness you’re exploring. The darkness you entertain… Its allure is strong.” His kisses were unceasing, making their way back up to my lips before whispering. “I fear it not. In fact, I revere it.”

I reached a hand up to cup his cheek as my own burned warm in feel and in hue. “Loki…”

He pulled me into another kiss, his hips grinding into mine, the growing bulge in his trousers drawing a soft moan from my lips as it made friction with my core through the mountains of fabric between us. My hands were eager, and I felt the pull of magic threatening my fingertips as they desperately grasped at his back. He shuddered under my touch, clearly sensing my energy through the leathers that separated his skin from mine.

With no lack of grace, Loki hiked up the skirts of my dress, granting himself access to the lace panties I wore underneath. I hissed as he brought the fingers of his free hand against the damp fabric, the other creating a dip in the bed as he held himself up on it.

“Already so wet for me?” He hummed in approval. “Your desire for me is nothing short of glorious~”

“My prince,” I breathed as I resisted the urge to buck my hips against his hand. “Please, let me have you tonight.”

I heard the shifting of leathers before feeling Loki move my panties aside and tease the tip of his cock against my slick folds. “I will give you whatever you desire, darling.” Quickly growing impatient, he tore the intruding piece of fabric off of my legs, granting himself full access to my cunt.

I still felt the magic and excitement dancing in my fingertips when he grabbed one of my hands in his, interlocking our fingers. “I can feel this power of yours, my dear.” He brought my hand up to his mouth, unceasing in his teasing as his lips lightly brushed my fingers. “Normally, I’d warn you to exercise caution in allowing your emotions to control your magic… but, seeing as I’m immune to your enchantment, I’ll encourage you to remember the way it courses through your veins as I pleasure you tonight.”

I shivered under his touch, despite feeling extremely warm. “And you’re absolutely positive that you’re immune to my enchantment?”

Loki thoughtfully hummed. “Only your magical enchantment, it would seem. Your enchanting allure, on the other hand?” He leaned in and softly kissed me on the lips before continuing. “I fall weak to it every time.”

“Oh, Loki…” I moaned as I pulled him into another passionate kiss, feeling his magic beckon to mine.

It was playful. It teased at my fingertips, as if it was asking the sparks under my skin to come out and play. I’d never felt Loki’s seidr have energy this light-hearted before. Even when he was using it for tricks and games, it always had some sort of reserved and orderly feel to it. It only ever moved with a purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. But, not tonight. Tonight, it was almost as wild and eager as mine. Tonight, it was carefree.

Can you blame me? Loki’s voice mischievously chuckled in my mind. I have the most radiant woman in all the nine realms all to myself, at last.

You’ve always had me, my love. I sighed against his mouth, my free hand trailing up his back. I’m yours, for as long as you wish to have me.

Then, I’ll have you until the very end of days. Loki’s lust came through in his message, and I reached for his cock, eager to satisfy his hunger for me. Normally, he would softly reproach me for being so impatient, but tonight, he just shuddered when my fingers made contact with his length. Take me now, darling.

With pleasure~ I lined him up with my entrance and slowly let him slide in.

He let his kisses trail along my jaw as he bottomed out, whispering, “Gods, you feel divine…”

Loki’s breath against the shell of my ear sent a shiver down my spine, and my inner walls instinctively clenched around his cock, earning a soft, breathy moan from him in response. Without wasting another second, he began slowly thrusting in and out of me, setting a steady pace.

“Loki…” I groaned, my hand returning to his back to desperately claw at the leather that still covered it. “I want to feel all of you. Please…”

He softly chuckled at my eagerness, allowing his seidr to dissolve our clothes into thin air. A small draft washed over my now bare body, giving my skin a short-lived break from the warmth Loki’s body sent into mine. The delicious warmth…

“How ironic that I should provide you with such warmth.” He purred. “On account of my heritage being so frigid.”

“Yet, that’s the only cold thing about you.” I hissed as he brushed my sweet spot. “You’ve always been so warm and loving to me.”

“You’re the only one who’s proved worthy of that thus far.” He growled.

I felt my impatience heightening at his slow pace, the energy thrumming in my fingers growing equally restless. “Loki…”

“Yes, darling?” He mumbled.

“Harder,” I breathed. “Please… Harder.”

Loki’s low, mischievous chuckle sounded in my ear. “As you wish, my enchantress~”

He sped up his movements, slamming his hips into mine at a bruising pace. He relentlessly targeted my sweet spot, and I could almost hear my own moans rattling off the castle walls as he blended pleasure and pain into a beautiful experience just for me.

“Oh, Loki…” I felt my eyes roll back as my nails dug into his back.

Yes, darling... Loki’s voice broke through my mess of incoherent thoughts. Mark me just like that. Lay your claim on me and me alone.

“Loki…” His name spilled from my lips like a prayer. It was the only word I could speak coherently anymore. “Oh, Loki…”

“That’s it,�� He praised me. “Let anyone who might overhear us know who you belong to. Yes, just like that.”

It felt so good. God, he knew just how to please me. Everything about the moment was so intimate. I never shied away from baring myself to Loki, and he happily did the same for me. Our thoughts were aligned, our magic played, and his body was fully available to me, pleasuring me in all the ways he knew I loved.

I felt my peak quickly approaching. “Loki… ’M cumming…”

“Do it, my enchantress,” He grunted. “Cum for me. Let me feel you clench around my cock. Show me how I truly make you feel.”

Loki’s words sent me over the edge, and he helped me ride out my nearly blinding climax. As I came down from my high, I noticed his thrusts becoming sloppier. Needier.

“D- Darling…” He hissed, his jaw clenching as he quickly approached his peak.

“Cum inside me, my love.” I mewled, still sensitive from my release. “Fill me- Ah!”

Before I could finish my pleas, I felt Loki’s cock twitch, spilling its seed inside me as his cries of pleasure filled my ears. I rocked my hips against his, attempting to help him ride out his high.

Oh, my enchantress~ Loki’s voice moaned in my mind, his real voice still occupied as he lost himself in ecstasy.

Once he finished, we were both panting. Energy still thrummed in my fingertips, but I noticed Loki’s slowly slipping away from mine. I willed mine to calm down, as well, feeling the sparks under my skin slowly fade away.

He then slowly pulled out, and a whine escaped the back of my throat at my sudden empty feeling. He didn’t, however, move from on top of me. I took the opportunity to pull him into a quick kiss.

Loki sighed against my mouth before pulling away. “Your temptation is going to be the death of me.”

“I beg to differ.” I breathlessly responded. “Your touch brings me to life, my love.”

Loki sharply rolled over, moving me to rest on top of his chest. I yelped in surprise before succumbing to a fit of giggles and pecking him on the lips. He held me in his arms, and I even began drifting off to sleep before a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Brother!” Thor’s voice boomed as the doors rattled. “The prisoners have been defeated. We require your assistance in the filing of documents on the uprising.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Brother, it’s late. For the love of Valhalla, allow me some rest after this eventful night before I toil away alongside you and Odin in an excruciatingly lengthy meeting.”

A heavy silence hung in the air before Thor’s voice responded in an unusually low tone. “…Very well, Loki.”

After the sound of retreating footsteps, Loki rubbed my back, softly groaning, “Do feel free to enchant my brother the next time he insists on poking at my nerves.”

“As you wish, my prince.” I softly giggled before pulling him into another sweet kiss.

As gleeful as I might have seemed, the conversation left me with a small pang of guilt. I rested my face in the crook of Loki’s neck and breathed him in, willing the lull of sleep to pull me under.

I would have to break the horrific news to him in the morning.

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strangerqueerthings · 9 months

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Soft

(CW for body image issues, disordered eating)

Billy's getting soft, and Eddie doesn't draw attention to it at first, because he wants to enjoy it as long as he can.

The last thing he wants is for Billy to relapse into overdoing his exercises, his weight lifting, counting calories, protein, and carbs.

Billy hasn't measured out his portions in almost six months. He hasn't stared at the nutrition facts panel on a box for over five minutes in almost five months. He hasn't lifted weights and exercised to the point of exhaustion in almost a year.

He indulges in dessert at least once a week, and he doesn't look around the room as if expecting danger. He has a beer and takes his time to enjoy it. He shares more joints with Eddie, and doesn't fight the munchies when they come.

Last week, he shared a plate of chili cheese fries and a greasy, oversized burger with Eddie- he even had a Coke with it.

He still goes for runs, or swims laps, but instead of them being daily occurrences, he does them when he has time, because he's slowly replacing over exertion with hobbies he never allowed himself to enjoy.

Eddie comes home from his shift with Gary to find Billy sitting on the bed, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, chewing on a pen, surrounded by books and notebooks.

Edgar Allen Poe. Mary Shelley. Oscar Wilde. William Blake. Bram Stoker.

He's comparing them, writing notes in his small, neat, precise handwriting. He also has a large book of Blake's watercolors open on "Book of Urizen- the creation of Urizen in material form by Los, 1794."

Eddie's never been much a literary nerd- he prefers to write and create his own works, rather than read what was written a long time ago. Still, he knows about Blake, and how the religious themes are important to Billy, because he's been struggling with them due to his upbringing.

Eddie's happy to see him fully investing his time and attention to something he enjoys- and is clearly absorbed by.

But what really has him smiling, is how Billy's stomach now has two gentle rolls to it as he leans forward to look at a page before taking another note. How he has the start of love handles visible from the waistband of his shorts digging into his hips.

Physically, Billy is getting soft, while sharpening his wits, and Eddie has never been more attracted him than he has been in that moment, seeing his softness paired with his hungry mind, proof that Billy isn't ignoring any of his appetites anymore.

Eddie comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots. Billy looks up and smiles, the expression lighting up his face.

"Didn't hear you come in."

"Didn't want to interrupt," Eddie replies, leaning over to plant a kiss on Billy's cheek. "You look like you're in the middle of something."

"Really into the Book of Urizen right now. Something about the conflict between him and Los makes me think of how I had to deal with Neil."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"How so?"

"Urizen wields nets, with which he ensnares people in webs of law and conventional society," Billy says, reading from his notes. "While Los, his counterpart, is an aspect of art and imagination, and in their struggle to control the world, Los and Urizen fall and bind each other in human forms."

Eddie frowns.

"I don't get it."

"Their downfall was that they wouldn't stop fighting, and it warped their purpose. I've been fighting Neil so long, I lost sight of who I am, and what I want, even how I feel about my body. I was bound in a human form Neil forced me to take, and my fear of him... made me keep it that way."

"Not recently," Eddie says gently, kissing Billy's shoulder. "And I've never seen you happier."

"I've never been happier," Billy agrees, then frowns.

"I struggled with it for a while, you know."

Eddie nods, but says nothing. He knows Billy well enough that the silence isn't the end of his train of thought- it's the calm before the storm of words that he needs to get out.

"I was worried I'd get bad again. Over doing it, going back to constant working out, skipping meals, or only eating protein. I was worried that I'd need to be that same person in high school, the same build, even though he's not a threat anymore. He's far away, out of my life, but he still has a hold on me."

Eddie leans against Billy, providing silent, solid support as Billy continues.

"But I see how you look at me, Eddie," he says. "I saw when I took my shirt off yesterday, and how your eyes lit up. The way you smiled when we shared that really greasy meal."

He looks at Eddie meaningfully.

"I feel how your hands linger on my hips at night. I can feel your fingers run over my stomach when you think I'm asleep."

Eddie flushes.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Billy-" he begins, but Billy puts a finger to his lips.

"I'm not good with words. Never have been. Not with saying them, and definitely not with accepting them. If you told me you like how I look now, I wouldn't believe you."

His face lights up as he smiles again, the beginnings of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes wrinkling in contentment, and those tiny little lines take Eddie's breath away, knowing that his happiness is becoming such a regular thing that it's leaving its mark in his skin.

"The way you touch me when you think I'm asleep, or when you think I won't notice- I do, and it means more than any of your silly speeches. You don't blow it out of proportion, you don't draw attention to it."

Billy rests his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"You just love me, the way I am, and you never ask me to change, but you appreciate and encourage me in your own, unspoken way every time I make changes for the better, and it keeps me from going back, from second-guessing those changes."

"Because I love you, and I want you to be happy and healthy, babe," Eddie says, reaching up and pushing a lock of hair behind Billy's ear.

"And I know I haven't said it until now, but Billy... I love seeing you soft and content."

Billy laughs, looking at his notes.

"Kind of arrogant to compare myself to a mythical figure," he says, but there's no self-derision in his voice, only amusement.

Eddie grins.

"I'll have you know, Dionysus is one of my favorite mythical figures, and everyone agrees- that god knew how to party, was a symbol of fertility, just an overall rock star."

Eddie lifts a brow.

"And in most of the statues and art of him? He's built just like you- sometimes, even with man tits."

Billy laughs, flushing a bit.

"Are you saying I've got a godly figure?"

"Not just saying it- I'm stating it as fact."

Billy smiles, and closes his notebook, stacking his books up and putting them on the nightstand along with his pen. He pulls Eddie to him, and grins wickedly.

"Well then, Eddie," he breathes. "Worship at the altar of my body."

Eddie can't get either of their clothes off fast enough.

#billy hargrove #eddie munson #mungrove #sqt drabble #I am having some feelings today

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hotvintagepoll · 4 months

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dual wielding propaganda here for Béla Lugosi and Boris Karloff, both of whom I don’t think will win but there’s still time for a turnaround! come on tumblr goths, vote with your heart! vote for shirtless men being tied up and threatened!

#(editor's note: tw on that link if you're leery of body horror mentions)#submission #propaganda #boris karloff #bela lugosi

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vex-bittys · 3 months

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The Gävle Goat: Lamia Bittybones Edition

The concept of a Yule Goat, like so many other human holiday traditions, was lost on the lamia bittybones. The snake-skeleton hybrids gladly honored annual feasting days (be it candy or turkey), skeleton themed celebrations (sugar skulls!), and gift giving holidays (who doesn't love gifts?) This year, however, they have discovered the human holiday tradition of arson, just in time for Valentine's Day!

The Pygmies, being law-abiding citizens, elected to build the Valentine's Goat. The Mambas, who thrive on destruction, took charge of annihilating it. Using their expert building skills, a pony-sized goat was lovingly woven in a place of honor the center of the bitty shop to await its possible demise.

Loyal Honey Bos and Chains joined their brothers' teams. Corals actually showed interest in tearing something apart, and the Kings couldn't pass up an opportunity to show their hunting prowess. Even the FireRings opted to commit the arson since the materials used to build the goat were organic and flammable.

Pacifist Kraits and gentle Papythons joined the Goat Guard to protect the Valentine's Goat from harm. Cornies proclaimed the goat (sculpture) to be the GOAT (Greatest of All Time), and named it G. G.

One would think that a straw goat wouldn't last long in a shop full of magic-wielding bitties bent on its destruction, but every time a King or Mamba got within striking distance of G. G. they found that it wasn't where it appeared to be. Corals and Chains attempted to teleport onto the sculpture, but always found themselves landing a few inches short. Fireballs lobbed at the goat deflected harmlessly into the Krait play pools.

No matter how hard they tried, Team Mamba could not overcome the Void-fueled time-space paradox created around G. G. Edgar had slightly more luck when he let Team Mamba Jr. pummel the goat with tiny ineffective fists before they were bravely "fought off" by Team Pygmy Jr. leaving the goat uninjured.

After three harrowing days, the lamias in the bitty shop awakened to find that G. G. had vanished during the night. A trail of straw led to the Commander den where Belle, Lieutenant Cherry, and the Commander gang reside. Those who dare to peek inside might even spot G. G. adorned in fairy lights and living her best life with a retinue of fierce guardians.

#vexy writes #lamia bittybones #bittybones #gavle goat #valentine's day

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chryseiswriting-blog · 18 days

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Did yall notice this opening line? Cause I didn’t. Didn’t think twice of it until after. Now I am on my reread and I am screaming, crying, throwing up.

Jean Moreau spends this entire book coming back to himself in pieces, inch by painstaking inch, finding the parts of himself that never had the chance to see the sunlight because they were buried in darkness. He is discovering who he is without the ravens, without Edgar Allen, without the king. He is picking up a thousand shattered pieces and dragging them together to try and make a whole (a little and a LOT like a shattered glass dropped in a sink, which is conveniently made easier when a golden haired twink wielding a paper towel and basic life skills comes to the rescue), desperately trying to make a life worth living when he has every reason to give up, because he has done this before! A thousand mornings before and a thousand mornings more. He will come back to himself, bit by bit, and make something with all those pieces, and to show that by opening with THIS LINE???

Nora, you are killing me man. Have mercy on my heart. It’s broken and bleeding all over my carpet and I can’t afford the dry cleaning :-(

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waywardnerd67 · 1 year

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Destroyer of Worlds

Title: Destroyer of Worlds Summary: He was the weapon to take down the corruption of superheroes. She was the only one who could wield him. Main Characters: Soldier Boy (Ben), Reader Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader Rating: E - Explicit Warnings: Angst/Fluff (if you squint)/Mind Control/Smut Prompt: “Don’t underestimate her. And don’t bet against her.” (Bold & Italic) Word Count: 4967 A/N: This is for @avanatural Follower Challenge

The Russians next to her were speaking their native language thinking she could not understand them. It was better they didn’t know she had spent the better part of two years fucking a Russian diplomat to get her where she was today and he happened to give her lessons in Russian.

(Y/N) played the studious, quiet, American scientist well. No one would suspect she was there for one reason and one reason only. Her eyes drifted to the cryo chamber that held her deepest desire within. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and adjusted her legs recrossing them from the ache building between them. Today was the day she had been waiting for since joining the Russians nearly fifteen years ago.

(Y/N) was the daughter of a low level superhero at Vought. She remembered going to the Tower and being in awe of all the superheroes. She admired their strength and integrity. Much like her father had been. She studied every superhero there ever was but one had captured her full attention and heart from the moment she saw him in an old movie about his life. He was everything she imagined a man should be. Handsome, charming, strong, a leader, a true man.

When she was old enough, she took a job at Vought in their gift shop. She eventually would work her way up to being the personal assistant to Stan Edgar while Vought paid for her to become a scientist. More than once, she had influenced Edgar in decisions about creating the perfect superhero. Compound V had been a good start, Temp V was dangerous but could be improved upon with the right subject. (Y/N) felt deep down there was only one superhero who was the key to everything they wanted.

When an opportunity to go to Russia to study what their scientists had discovered was something she had to fight for. In the end, she was going to do whatever it took to go. Now, she realized that she hadn’t needed to fight so hard to go because they were already going to exile her there just like they had done with America’s Superhero.

You know Dmitri said the American is a good fuck.

She tore her eyes away from the cryo chamber when they mentioned her and glanced at the two scientists at the table next to hers. She smiled sweetly at them before returning her gaze to the papers in front of her.

Dmitri is’t man enough to fuck her.

She swallowed the giggle trying to escape her lips. He was right, (Y/N) had approached the poor, shy, young Russian one late night. The table the two were sitting at was the exact spot their friend had bent her over and fucked her. Of course, she had to get herself off when the young man came nearly five minutes after being inside of her. It was good for his self-esteem and she needed to feel something other than her fingers inside of her. Plus, he was able to deliver an important message to Vought Tower for her.

Suddenly, there was a bunch of commotion from the hall outside the lab. Five people in worker’s uniforms walked in that were obviously not local. A small smile appeared on her lips as she realized who had walked in. The alarms began to go off and Russian guards began to fill the room. She ducked down beneath her table as a young American man came next to her.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Please help me. They’ve held me here for so long.” Tears instantly started down her cheeks.

“We’ll help you, promise. Stay down.”

He looked up at his friends who were getting pinned down by the guards. She couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. Dumbass, rag-tag team of losers. She had been hoping when she leaked some information to Maeve that she would send someone a little more put together. (Y/N) saw a flash shoot out over her head much like Homelander and her heart nearly flatlined. Then she saw the obvious leader of this group getting shot and not being phased. His eyes glowed much like Homelander’s and then he shot a hot beam of energy from them.

“Holy shit.” She muttered.

“MM!” The young man yelled before disappearing before her eyes.

(Y/N) took the opportunity to get out of there and down the back hallway. She stopped by a nearby observation window where she could see everything but no one could see her. All the guards and the two scientists were dead. The team seemed to be chastising the leader and young man for having powers.

“Only last 24 hours. Break in case of an emergency, like this.”

His accent sent shivers down her body. (Y/N) bet he was great fuck. A man who would keep going until her legs were shaking and her voice hoarse from crying out his name. She watched tall, dark and handsome walk over to the cryo chamber and her heart began to race.

“Fuck me, he’s going to open it.” She whispered to herself watching him do exactly that.

Toxic gas billowed from the chamber as they all stared into it.

“Christ, Soldier Boy.”

(Y/N) gripped the edge of the window to keep her knees from buckling. Watching as thick fingers gripped the edge of the chamber and all her dreams stepped out. He was more beautiful than any movie or picture she had seen of him. The Russians had never allowed her to see him except in old experiment videos. So many nights she had snuck into the lab alone, watching those videos and getting herself off pressed against his chamber.

The floor beneath began to shake and from the center of Soldier Boy’s chest emitted a bright glow. She took cover hearing the explosion, debris flying in all directions and the guttural scream of the long forgotten superhero. She looked up through the window in time to see the aftermath and watched as he was walking towards the hall she was in. (Y/N) quickly made her way down towards the exit to wait for her destiny to come to her.

He approached cautiously, seeing her standing against the only exit.

“Move.” His raspy voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“If you want out of this hellhole then I suggest you follow me.”

He straightened his body trying to be intimidating, “Move or I’ll move you.”

Her eyes traveled down his body. Every muscle was taut and hard as he strained to keep himself calm. She bit her lips seeing his cock, even soft was long and thick. She snapped her eyes back up to his seeing the darkness held deep within those beautiful olive irises.

“You could move me or kill me whichever. But that would be a colossal mistake. I have access to clothes, food, booze and a way back to where you really want to be.”

He scoffed, “Where’s that?”

“America. New York. Vought.”

His eyes widened, “Why the fuck would I want to go there? They betrayed me.”

“Exactly. I know all about what truly happened to you. A lot has changed since you were captured and you’re going to need some guidance. I can provide that.” She stepped toe to toe with him, “Like right now, we need to get the fuck out of here before Russian soldiers storm this place.”

Standing there, he was a good four to five inches taller than she was. A wall of pure strength that could snap her neck in an instance. He was the ultimate predator and she was hoping to be enticing enough to be his prey. Her heart skipped seeing the corner of his lip slightly curl upward. She had him.

“Lead the way.”

It had taken a couple of days to get passage back to the states and into New York without Vought knowing. Soldier Boy had remain quiet except for the stewardess he fucked in the lavatory making (Y/N) sick to her stomach with jealousy. When they had landed, he demanded to go to The Legend’s home.

“He’s retired and has nothing to do with Vought anymore. He sits in his penthouse suite snorting and drinking all day.” She said as they rode a cab to the old man’s penthouse apartment.

For the first time, Soldier Boy smiled, “Sounds like a great life to me. He has something I need. I could also use a little pick me up.”

She rolled her eyes as he huffed looking out his window.

“Don’t fucking judge me because you’re little Miss Virgin Mary. Get off your fucking high horse.”

She gritted her teeth trying to control the rage filling her veins. Taking a deep breath, she played into his whole pure image of her. She pushed a single tear down her cheek with a soft sniffle.

“Haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen and I caught Homelander’s eye.”

She could see him looking back at her, “The blonde douchebag plastered everywhere?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on her hands resting on her lap. Lacing her fingers together she squeezed them as tight as she could.

“I worked in the gift shop of Vought since my father was a low level superhero. Homelander was there for an event. He knew who I was because he knew my father. That made me irresistible.”

He scoffed, “Happens to the best of us. Plenty of times at events I would have women throwing themselves at me or one who particularly caught my attention.”

(Y/N) was aware of his conquests. Once more her stomach twisted with envy knowing all of them had what she wanted. She blew out a long breath trying to keep her jealousy from showing.

“Yeah, I wasn’t seeking his attention. That didn’t keep him from taking me into a storage closet and forcing himself on me.” She watched his fist clench, “I kept telling him I was a virgin and I wanted to wait for the right man.”

“He didn’t give a shit. Supes never do. Even America’s hero.”

She glanced over seeing him staring out his window, “Told me there was no better man than him, but I knew one man who was better than him. I had watched his movie on repeat until I wore it out. I studied every book ever written about him and how he had saved so many lives. I devoted my entire life to finding out the truth of how he disappeared knowing Vought’s story of him dying was bullshit.”

She turned, looking right at him as his bright eyes bored into hers. The best way to keep someone from penetrating your wall of lies is layering truth in between those lies. She allowed him to see this moment of truth in order to gain a little more trust. A small smile appeared on his lips and knew she had him.

“You think I’m a great man?” He scoffed, “You may be more fucked up than I am.”

His laughter sent waves of hot desire flowing over her. Being this close to him was starting to wear on her self-control. Squeezing her thighs together, she giggled softly for his amusement.

“That’s probably accurate. We’re here.”

The car stopped and they made their way to The Legend’s penthouse suite. The reunion had not been hearts and flowers. The Legend knew better than to fuck with Soldier Boy and when his eyes landed on her, he complied immediately. He knew better than to fuck with her as well.

“You know her?” Soldier Boy pointed to her, “She says I can trust her. Is that true?”

She narrowed her eyes with a silent warning. The Legend knocked back his drink and pulled out a little baggy with white powder in it.

“Don’t underestimate her. And don’t bet against her.” He bent over snorting a line of the drugs, “Whatever you want, she can get for you.”

Soldier Boy looked from the old man to her and back, “Fine. Now, I need to know where my team is.”

The Legend told him everything he knew about where the team members of Payback were. (Y/N) knew where he would go as The Legend told him where Crimson Countess was. When they left, (Y/N) told the driver her address to head too.

“That’s not where Crimson is at” He grunted.

“I know. You need to actually sleep and not run of pure adrenaline with a dash of cocaine. If we run into trouble then I need you at your best.”

He rolled his eyes, “Where are we going then?”

(Y/N) gave him a genuine smile, “My house outside the city and Vought’s peering eyes.”

The drive was nearly two hours long from the city. Soldier Boy had fallen asleep immediately and now was resting his head on her shoulder. (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair moving it from his face. He sighed as her fingers went for a second pass through the silky, dark, strands. His hand snapped up, catching her wrist.

The lids of his eyes opened reveal darkened orbs staring up at her. Rage and desire swirled within them before he blinked showing no emotion at all.

“How much longer?” He grunted, sitting up to the other side of the car.

“Nearly there. I will get you set up in the downstairs suite. All I ask is that you don’t sneak out and go after Crimson by yourself.”

They were pulling onto the long driveway as Soldier Boy rolled down the window looking at her property. (Y/N) had made sure that the old farm that had been in her family for generations remained in her name during her time with the Russians. She had only lived in the house that had been newly built for a few months. She had no idea what she would be walking into, but the moment she saw it coming over the small hill she felt at home.

“Does anyone else live here?” His gruff voice pulled her back into the car.

She shook her head, “Only me and I haven’t been here in fifteen years.”

“Fuck.” He breathed as the car came to a stop, “The Russians had you for fifteen years.”

(Y/N) leaned forward to the driver, “Please go and pick up groceries. Make sure you get a few bottles of wine, a bottle whiskey and please pick up a standing order prescription from the pharmacy. Give them my name and you should have no issues.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiled at Soldier Boy before getting out of the car. He followed her in through the front door and it was as if nothing had changed for (Y/N). She could smell a fresh fire burning in the living room fireplace. Waves of apples and salted caramel flowed from room to room.

“Is there a fucking bakery in here?”

She laughed, “No. My favorite scent is caramel apples. If it bothers you I can make sure all the warmers are turned off.”

“It’s fine.” He smirks, “I like apples and caramel.”

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

(Y/N) led him down the stairs to the guest suite. There was a California king bed with a mini bar and fridge. It was decorated in forest green and gold as the inspiration stepped over to the bed.

“There’s a master bathroom with anything you may need and I will have some clothes brought down to you.”

Soldier Boy sat on the bed running his hand through his long hair, “Why are you helping me?”

“We want the same things and in the end I think you’re the only one who can achieve that. If that means feeding you, clothing you, and finding you someone to fuck senseless then so be it. Say the word and you’ll have it.”

His eyes widened with possibilities, “Best bottle of whiskey and some weed is a good start.”

“The whiskey is on its way, but the weed will have to wait until tomorrow. However, something else is coming with the whiskey that I think will suffice.”

Soldier Boy walked up to her, “You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

She stood her ground confidently even as her knees trembled, “Yes I have. I’ll leave you to get cleaned up. I’ll have dinner sent down if you like or you can join me in a couple of hours.”

She walked up the stairs far enough to be out of sight but could still hear once he was in the shower. When the water started and she heard the door shut, (Y/N) made her way back down. She looked at the mirror above the sink getting a full view of the man beneath the water cascading down his body. The bathroom filled with the woodsy body wash as (Y/N) squeeze her thighs together.

Then a low groan echoed throughout the tiled walls. Watching the mirror closely she could see his head roll back against his shoulders as his large hand stroked himself. A deep moan sent shivers down her body and the familiar ache grew stronger.

“Fuck.” He grunted as his hand picking up the pace, “Fuck, fuck.”

(Y/N) was mesmerized by Soldier Boy jacking off. His muscles tensing, his hand pressed against the tiles as his other hand feverishly jerked off his long, thick cock. She found her own hand drifting down into the waistband of her pants. Her fingers rubbed her aching clit as another wave of curses flew from his lips.

He was close and so was she when their eyes connected for a single heartbeat in the mirror. Neither of them stopped until her body began to shake as her pleasure flooded her body.

“Ohhh… fuck.”

She moaned, watching as his jaw clenched and his body jerked forward. A loud, gravelly growl bounced off the walls as he came. She dipped her fingers into her wetness then pulled her hand from her pants. She brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying Soldier Boy’s reaction. He kept slowly stroking himself as his jaw slacked.

(Y/N) turned around leaving the suite and making her way towards her own room. The driver was walking in as she was stepping into the kitchen.

“Please take the bottle of whiskey and pills downstairs and have Mitchell go down to give our guest a haircut.”

“As you wish.” He immediately walked downstairs.

(Y/N) stepped inside her room and finally allowed her muscles to unwind the coils of tension. The faint tingling of bliss fading as she laid down on her bed. Now the ball was in his court if he wanted to pursue her or not. She got up heading into her own bathroom to shower and tend to her own needs. She couldn’t help herself to glance at the door or mirror to see if Soldier Boy would be there. He never was and she dried herself off before walking naked into her closet.

She picked out her favorite dress, an olive green, halter sundress that was modest and sexy. (Y/N) braided her hair off to the side and took her contacts out, placing her black rimmed glasses over her eyes. Looking in the mirror she gave herself a nod of approval before turning around to see Soldier Boy leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m a little underdressed.” He chuckled.

“I think you look good. I don’t think there’s a single picture of you in civilian clothes. This is a nice change.”

Boy was it, as her eyes traveled the length of his body. Light gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips leaving very little to the imagination of what was held within them. His broad chest and shoulders were covered by a white tank and New York Giants jersey. His long hair and beard were trimmed up. Her hand twitching at her side to touch the silky locks.

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it downstairs for dinner.”

She looked away bashfully dragging her bottom lip beneath her teeth, “Then I guess we should head downstairs. Did you find the whiskey and medicine to be to your liking?”

He stepped aside for her to pass by him. She brushed against him hearing the low groan rumbling in his chest.

“You did good kid. I missed bennies, it’s how we won D-Day, you know.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks clenching her jaw swallowing the bitter rage trying to fly out of her mouth from being called a kid. That’s when she felt a hot, firm body press against her back. His hands gripped her hips pulling her ass against his hard length.

“Two can play this game, but you’ll realize I’m better at it. But it’s fun to see you try to get a rise out of me.”

He let her go and pushed past her making his way down the hallway. (Y/N) took a deep breath trying to calm the frantic nerves buzzing in her stomach.

“Challenge accepted, Soldier Boy.” She whispered before following him to the kitchen.

The cook had prepared steaks, baked potatoes and salad for dinner. (Y/N) motioned to her to serve Soldier Boy first. She watched as his eyes traveled the older woman’s body, tilting his head to get a different view of her ass as she walked away. There was no reason now to play the bashful innocent woman. When his eyes met hers she continued to glare as the cook served her meal.

“Thank you. You can leave for the evening.” She reached out to the older woman smiling genuinely, “I appreciate you and the rest of the staff staying here for so long. You have done a marvelous job keeping everything perfect. Please tell the rest of the staff to take the night off and go home.”

“Yes ma’am. We’re glad to see you back home.”

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow at the curious look her superhero was giving her. She cut into her steak ignoring him for the moment. The tension between them was growing as they ate in silence. She would catch him staring at her and he would catch her watching him devour his food. When they were both done, she stood grabbing her plate then his. His hand grasped her wrist pulling her onto his lap as she set the plates on the table.

“As much as I love this little game we’re playing. I want to know what your real intentions are.”

“With what exactly? My vendetta against Vought or with you?” She asked, slipping her arm around his neck.

His eyes closed as her fingers stretched up into his hair, “Both.”

“Both answers are easy. Vought screwed over my father and in turn my family. I simply want to take out Edgar and I figured helping you get back at your team is a bonus.”

“And me?” His eyes were dark, shining with desire again.

“I want your help taking down Vought…” She paused, leaning in until her lips nearly brushed against his, “and I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as she leaned back, “You’re a little young for me?”

She laughed getting off his lap, “Sweetheart, the only women old enough for you are in graves. If you want that then I’ll take you to the nearest cemetery.”

“You have a smart mouth on you.”

(Y/N) knew she had him hooked now it was time to reel him in. She untied the top of her dress letting it drop as she unzipped it. His eyes slowly took her in, standing bare in front of him. She straddled his waist, running her hands beneath his jersey and rubbing herself against him.

“Yes, I do and it has many uses. I would love to show you, but if you think you can’t keep up old man then I guess I’ll go take care of myself.”

Soldier Boy snarled before picking her up with ease roughly dropping her on the table, “Fuck that, I’ll show you what this old man can do.”

He pushed his sweats down next to the jersey he nearly ripped from his body. As he pulled the tank over his head, (Y/N) rubbed herself gathering her arousal of them then sucking them cleaning.

“Mmm, I taste so good. You should taste me first before you fuck me.”

Watching Soldier Boy drop to his knees nearly made her cum as she rubbed herself slowly. The moment his tongue ran up her, (Y/N) arched her back and the all too familiar burn of pleasure flowed in her veins. Looking down, his eyes locked with hers beginning to glow a vibrant, neon green and she smiled.

“Such a good boy, eating me out. Fuck, need to feel your fingers deep inside me.”

He obeyed immediately, pushing two thick fingers in her. Running her fingers into his hair, she grinded herself against his face not caring if he needed to breathe or not.

“Keep going Ben, I’m so close to cumming. Oh god, Ben just like that.”

His fingers fucking her, his mouth working over her clit and his beard rubbing against her bare skin sent her over the edge. Crying out his real name as she squeezed her thighs around his head. When she let go of him, he was panting.

(Y/N) sat up keeping her legs spread for him, “Standing.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes were still glowing as her powers weaved into his mind. He followed her command looking slightly confused and taken back.

“Now Benjamin, I need you to fuck me nice and hard. I need you to cum inside of me as I’m cumming.”

She watched as he stroked his cock aligning himself with her. He pulled her ass to the edge of the table then pushed inside of her slowly until snapping his hips against her.

“Fuck!” She cried out, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Fuck me hard against the wall, Ben.”

He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and went to the nearest wall pressing her back against it. He thrusted hard and deep inside of her. In all the times she had used her powers to control the minds of others, she had never enjoyed as much as at this moment. Her powers were rooted in connecting with the person and there was no greater emotional or physical connection than sex.

“Harder Ben… oh god, fuck me harder.”

He slammed into her and (Y/N) could feel the bruises forming already. She knew she was playing with fire asking the man with superhuman strength to fuck her hard. She needed to feel it though. She needed him to make her cum and she was so close.

“Like that Ben, oh fuck, I’m so close. Make me cum Benjamin. Fuck!”

Waves of overwhelming pleasure hit her and as he knocked her back against the wall hard.

“Fuck! Fuck! (Y/N)!” He cried out her name burying his head into her neck.

He stumbled backwards keeping a firm hold on her as he leaned against the table. His cock still inside of her as she took everything he had within her. His hands were trembling as he gripped beneath her ass keeping her in place. (Y/N) pressed her forehead against his.

“Look at me Ben.”

His eyes connected with hers and she could see the flecks of neon green within his olive ones. Her powers were flowing down her veins like lava and she rotated her hips against him. He groaned, immediately grinding himself against her.

“Such a good boy. Now, you’re going to carry me to my bedroom and we’re going to get cleaned up. Then you’re going to fuck me again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He carried her as she asked and followed every order she gave.

When exhaustion took over his body, (Y/N) picked up her cell phone hitting the only number saved within it.

“Hello dad, I have him.”

Mindstorm’s low chuckle came through, “Good girl, Temptress. You know what to do with him. Make sure he knows I had nothing to do with Vought’s plan and it was all Noir’s doing.”

“Yes sir.” She smiled, looking over at the man sleeping peacefully next to her, “Once I have him take out Edgar and everyone else in our way. Then… then I get what you promised?”

There was a long sigh, “Yes, once I have control over Vought then you and Soldier Boy can live happily ever after. You will never hear from me again.”

(Y/N) hung up the phone, snuggling up next to Ben. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way. Mindstorm is a mean fuck, but he’s still my dad. Once you use your new powers from the Russians to wipe out all the Supes at Vought tower then we can live a happy, honest life together.”

She wrapped his arm around her, “Hold me.”

He pulled her into his chest, sighing. She nuzzled her head against his chest allowing herself to tell the truth while he slept.

“My codename is Temptress and I can control your mind with a deep, personal connection. One day, I hope you’ll be able to love me as much as I do and then I won’t have to control your mind. Until then, you’ll be my weapon to wield. Starting with Vought then your backstabbing team and finally my father.”

She kissed his chest as he hugged her closer, “I love you Soldier Boy. Sweet dreams, my destroyer of worlds.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

Taglist: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @destiel745 @carribear31 @whimsicalrobots @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @imascio08 @mannls @time-travel-bouqet @myinconnelly1 @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @stoneyggirl @mimaria420 @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @stixnstripesworld @sexyvixen7 @samsgirl93 @perpetualabsurdity @deanwanddamons @smoothdogsgirl @lyarr24 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @nancymcl

#AvanaturalAntagonists #waywardnerd67fics #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x reader #the boys fanfiction #the boys fanfic

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skelelephant · 6 months

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HELLOOOOO it’s old man hours

The last refs I drew for Edgar and Markus were from 2021 and honestly I don’t think they ever made it to Tumblr. So here’s some new ones!!

Gonna use this to give some quick facts about my boys also so more under the cut if u want✨

Edgar Tremaine (he/him)

Age: 68

Lighthouse keeper in the town of Last Light, Edgar is a reclusive sort who is more akin to a ghost than a man amongst the townsfolk. He’s tended the light for many years, but no one in town knows of his life before he sailed there some 30 years ago. Despite his solitary nature, he’s become a rather beloved spectre for the small population of Last Light. Some think him to be a magician of sorts, wielding otherworldly power— but no one knows for certain.

Markus Hearst (he/him)

Age: 66

Captain of the Lady Dahlia, the rumours surrounding Markus Hearst are that of a tempest wearing human skin, waiting to draw ships into a storm and drive them down. The man himself is a much milder sort, captaining a smuggling ship and keeping himself and his crew out of trouble as much as he can. The rumours spring from the storms that seem to follow him and his vessel— the gales and lightning that he’s able to call from nothing. Captain Hearst is a warlock, a soulless vessel of old magic. But his heart, while still his, belongs soundly to Edgar.

#HELLOOOOO PLS LOOK AT MY BOYS #MY WONDERFUL OLD MEN #they were due for a revamp and I am so pleased with how they turned out #they’re GAY and they KISS and they REDACTED #crumpled dark #oc: edgar #edgar tremaine #oc: markus #markus hearst #tagging both just to be safe

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annadaptors · 8 months

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DC Stuart Fraser in Taggart, 'Angel Eyes' (1996) / DS Edgar Wield in Dalziel + Pascoe, 'Child's Play' (1998).

Fraser 🤝🏼 Wield = Forced to come out to their superiors after the murder of a former lover.

#dalziel and pascoe #taggart #usergay #mlmsource #tvedit #gifset #finksgifs #now this would be an ambitious crossover #i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while #their coming out plots had a lot in common #all those newspaper articles claiming stuart’s ‘coming out’ was out of left field #obviously did not pay close enough attention to devil’s advocate #or maybe i’m only seeing it because i have the benefit of hindsight #edgar wield #stuart fraser

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goodluckclove · 1 month

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Ask game: 😈

What Worst Qualities Do Your Characters Share With You?

Of course you would be the one to ask me this, Iva. I'm down, though. I do improv comedy. I'll commit to a bit.

God, where do I start? There's Edgar Gallows, dual-wielding magic user and escapee of the Academy. I haven't really gotten into it yet, and in a weird way I might not, but I know he thinks it's his fault that he was abused growing up. He still thinks he deserved it somehow, but he doesn't understand why. And because of that it confuses him deeply whenever he thinks about it.

There's a point in the next book where he's confronted by his inner child who asks why he resents them so much. I'm not looking forward to writing that scene.

Scott Skylark Kaufner, birthright and reluctant human sacrifice, will do far too much if it means someone will love him. Because of a plot-related fuckup in his magic, at the start of Blind Trust he was inadvertently seducing nearly everyone he met. As a semi sex-repulsed asexual this is an absolute nightmare scenario, but Scott was so desperate to find his fated lover that he forced himself to sleep with all of them. This sucks, and it is literally what I did before I met my wife. Although the mass-seduction part was not part of my story.

Katy Delaney, Edgar's best friend and coworker, has a small issue with emotional intimacy that I can relate to. Tenzin is forced through magic to potentially kill to protect a loved one - and I was ready to real-world assault a man who I thought was sexually harassing my friend.

Honestly, even Cassus/The Witch-Eater rings familiar to what happened to me with my theater troupe. Just a formless entity whose perspective of love has been warped and twisted and turned his giving into taking, taking, taking. I have more experience with people now so that I don't think that's going to go down like that a second time, but unfortunately Cassus is a sentient dimension of cosmic energy who has never had a reasonable conversation with a human being, so its interpersonal skills are...not great.

Also, on a lighter note, Edgar and Tenzin still play Runescape and Katy was a 4channer. Sinful, sinful children.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #writing asks #songbird elegies #blind trust #lore time bby

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gointothevvater · 8 months

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I've been working on what St. Cecilia's doing during Army of the Doomstar, and I think I have it figured out!

We first see her at the church during Ishnifus's funeral, where she's sitting with Edgar before Nathan comes stumbling in.

The next time we see her is during the climax, when she arrives with Charles and the Army of the Doomstar. She charges in with the others, wielding the little white stiletto knife Charles gave her. When Charles gets pinned down by Vater Orlaag, she hops into the combine and shoves aside the dead driver (Chanting "Eww, eww, eww," as she does), and rather than it hitting him on its own, she runs Orlaag down. She's not badly hurt, but she has a bloody nose and a few cuts and bruises. Charles panics for a moment because she's limping, but it's just because she broke her heel off on the side of some guy's head. She pulls the club off Charles's hand, and when the shit hits the fan, we get to see her be the one to shield him. When they break apart, they both have the glowing eyes.

We don't see her again until the very end of the film, where she's kneeling beside a smiling Charles.

#metalocalypse #charles offdensen #nathan explosion #vater orlaag #edgar jomfru #army of the doomstar #aotd spoilers #st. cecilia jameson #my mtl

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divine-knight-hand · 8 months

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And so, the moon rises on a new, chilling occasion

Amidst a season of falling leaves and rising screams, a certain knight faces herself with the honor of celebrating her favorite holiday. Using the materials and imagination at her disposal, she's brought together a spooky triple feature starring some of her favorite characters from different medias.

Her intentions began pure, but as she breathed life into each inspiring vision, the last of her works began to toe the line between horror and lust. Now you must decide. Will you choose to follow the allure of the darkness, madness, and sex promised by the knight's creations three?

Key: ☁️ - Fluff ❤️- Smut

**Be warned that this event is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for minors!!! Only interact with this if you're 18+ and able to handle the warnings listed with each title below!!!**

Dividers by @silkholland

The Fluffy First: ☁️ Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party (Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader) || AO3 Link

The final installment of Our Wonderful Witch in Red (Rewritten). Wanda goes off alone at a Halloween party, and not a single Avenger knows where she is... Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way! Word Count: 2,874

The Sinister Second: ❤️ The Ball of the Red Death (Prince!Loki Laufeyson x Enchantress!Female Reader) || AO3 Link

A royal feast being converted to a royal ball at the last minute by the god of mischief's mad magic-wielding lover, who just so happens to have an Edgar Allen Poe obsession. What could possibly go wrong? Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, discussions of death and mortality at length, implied major character death (you just really have to squint), use of enchantment, unprotected sex, mind reading/communication during sex, use of magic during sex, momentary clothed sex, porn with way way too much plot Word Count: 6,905

The Final Chase: ❤️ Night of The Maneater (Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader)

Part 1: The Chase || AO3 Link

Part 2: The Catch || AO3 Link

Since the destruction of Fazbear's Fright, Michael could finally celebrate Halloween in peace, but with a new serial killer on the loose known only by the name "The Maneater", how long will his night stay that way? Content Warnings: Stalking, mentions of death and killing, descriptions of fear and creepy scenarios, death threats, sexual themes, light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise Part 1 Word Count: 4,352 Part 2 Word Count: 2,378

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nikki-rook · 9 months

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I need more Castle being nerdy moments. I'm all tapped out for brain power and trying to think of them all. Preferably physically nerdy, and not just talking about nerdy stuff.

I have him dressing as mal from firefly, dressed as edgar allan poe for halloween, playing video games, and wielding a sword. I just cannot think of anything else right now

#castle #caskett #help

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honeysmokedham · 4 months

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TIMING: november LOCATION: graveyard PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: mentorship involves teaching your mentee. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

The Graveyard was at capacity, crowded by Emilio, Nora, and the dead that presided there. Nora stood across from Emilio, slayer - safely tucked away in a sheath - clutched in her left hand as she watched Emilio's every movement. Axis wasn't big enough for proper knife training which meant the pair often took the short walk from Axis to Gallows Grove to train. The first few weeks mostly consisted of Emilio telling Nora everything wrong she was doing with the knife. How to hold it, how to stand, how to wield it. What strikes to practice, what footing to work on. What Emilio didn't know, and what she would never tell him, was she took it all to heart. Each lesson he imparted to her she devoured. Each night she'd take what he'd taught her and practice it over and over until her exhausted body informed her it was time to go home and sleep.

A crowd of ghosts had taken to watching them whenever they showed up. A few of them would shout encouragement to Nora. A few of them would curse Emilio's name. It all depended on who was around. Today a trio of three old ladies made up the gallery. They sat and chatted on a large monument near them. Nora did her best to block out their chatter but every now and then she'd catch snippets of their bets and jokes. One, the middle one, bet that Nora wouldn't dare to attack because "Surely the girl knows the man is just going to disarm her and she'd lose again."

Nora struck first, throwing Slayer directly at Emilio while dashing in. Her other hand fumbled in her pocket for a moment before grasping Vampire's handle and wrenching it out of her pocket. Lunging forward after her thrown knife, Nora attempted a swipe to his side. Trickery always worked right? Was she supposed to throw these knives? She didn't know. All she knew is one day she'd win one of these little exercises.

—

It felt strange, being out in the graveyard with no intention to kill anything. Emilio patrolled the town’s graveyards often, though he tried to hide this fact from Nora. He didn’t want her to feel as though he distrusted her ability to take care of herself, but the moment he’d realized she was living in a damn graveyard, he’d made it a point to make sure the thing was free of spawns and other undead entities. And no matter how many times they came here, carrying knives they had no intention of bloodying, some part of Emilio felt foreign.

He’d never really been involved in training someone before. Jaime had been working on his training when he’d died, but Emilio hadn’t been involved in it. He wasn’t sure if Rosa had never asked him as a kindness or because she knew he’d say no. And Flora… He hadn’t had the stomach to start her training at her age, hadn’t been able to justify the idea of putting a knife in his baby’s hand and sticking her in a crypt with something to kill. But Nora was different. Nora was old enough to understand it, Nora was in more danger without training than she was with it, Nora asked him to help her learn. And Nora lived in a crypt, anyway, so she probably wouldn’t mind much if he stuck her in one.

Still, even with all this in mind, he made an effort to allow his training methods to differ from the way he’d been taught. When Nora lunged towards him and attempted to swipe his side after a decent distraction attempt, Emilio darted out of the way and grabbed her wrist. But he didn’t twist it the way his mother would have, didn’t slice his own knife across her side the way Edgar would have, certainly didn’t stick his blade into some fleshy, ‘mostly harmless’ part of her body the way Rosa had done to him countless times. His grip on her wrist was firm, but not painful, and he released it after one quick squeeze just to display the grip. “Getting better,” he told her. “But when you throw the knife, aim for the center. Here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “Makes them have to work more to move out of the way. Easier to catch them off guard. And if they’re slow, you may hit them anyway. A knife in the chest slows anyone down.”

—

“I should have gone for the knee.” Nora mumbled, as her attack was one more foiled. Despite the knowledge that not everything she fought would have a bad knee. In a lot of ways, Nora knew she had an advantage in a real fight. Her illusions would make for effective distractions. Plus, she could literally turn into a bear. Who wanted to fight a bear? Actually. She knew the answer to that. Sane people didn’t want to fight a bear, then you had those people on the internet who swore up and down they could win a fist fight with a bear. Bravado, she knew.

Still, Nora knew that if she relied on tricks and weaknesses one day, she’d encounter a fight where those things didn’t work. Then someone she’d cared about would pay the price for taking the easy way out. Nora went to retrieve Slayer, placing both the knives back in her pocket. “I need to practice aiming more.” As if she’d been aiming for his center. Of course, she wasn’t, she’d been trying to chuck it at his head.

Standing behind him, where she’d walked to go pick up Slayer, Nora tried a sneak attack. Coming from his back right side with an overhead swing. She didn’t find out if it was going to work or not, because a scent, familiar, caught her attention. It was faint, brought to them by the wind. Nora diverted the momentum of her swing into pivoting to face behind her. “Do you smell that?” Nora asked Emilio. She sniffed again, trying to get past the scent of freshly turned dirt, Irish spring soap and the sweat of physical effort. “Something smells dead.”

—

“Yeah,” Emilio agreed with a nod, “you should have. If you notice something you’re fighting has a weakness, that’s where you aim. Bum knee, bad shoulder, hole in the armor. Hit them where it hurts, okay?” It’s how he’d learned. Everything had a weak point; Emilio was no different. He’d take a hit to the bad knee if it meant Nora learned how to better protect herself, would happily accept any kind of momentary pain she might doll out to him — either accidentally or intentionally — if it meant she was safe.

As she went to retrieve the knife she’d thrown, Emilio pulled one from his own pocket and fiddled with it absently. He wasn’t planning on using it in this session, but he was bad at sitting still. His hands needed something to do, and while he’d usually default to twisting his wedding ring, he’d taken it off for tonight. Half for fear of losing it, half to make sure Nora wouldn’t catch him playing with it and ask about it. “We can set up some targets,” he offered, “work with that.”

He heard her creeping up behind him and smiled faintly to himself, letting her approach. He figured he’d sweep her legs out from under her when she got close enough, but he did commend the effort. But before he could move, she stopped, sniffing the air. “My nose isn’t as good as yours, kid,” he reminded her. “And we’re in a graveyard. Lots of things smell dead.” But, as he said it, there was that familiar shiver down his spine, that old clench to his stomach. Ah. “Good nose. Something is coming. Here.” He retrieved a stake from his pocket, handing it over. “You’ll probably have more luck with this, depending on what it is. Stick with me, okay?” He wouldn’t throw her to the wolves, even if it was what his mother would have done to him.

—

So much for the sentiment of not going for the weakness while training. Next time the knee was hers. Meant violently. Nora nodded at his instructions, a new idea forming in her mind. Next strike she could cover her movements with an illusion. Illusion her would go one way while the real her would go the other. That could be a fun little trick. Nora was bristling with excitement, ready to test out the theory. “Yeah, targets would be good.” There were enough knives laying around Axis it was a surprise he didn’t have targets to throw them at anyway.

Nora’s nose remained in the air for a minute until the scent got close enough, she could smell it without assistance from the breeze. Pride blossomed in her as Emilio praised her for noticing and handed her a stake Nora put Vampire back into her pocket and grasped the stake in her hand. Emilio was never getting it back, she wondered if he knew that the moment he handed it over. “Right. Stick with you.” Nora stated, as if she would have done it if he hadn’t said it. Which she wouldn’t have. She would have thrown herself forward with no consideration of any of the training they’d just been doing. Because at the core of it, she was young and reckless.

Now Nora felt truly battle ready. One hand on a steak, one hand on a knife, ready for whatever was going to come. Nora wondered if it would be an elder vampire. That had been the last vampire Emilio had taught her about. Now that she thought about it, he never did explain all those vampires with those long and complicated names. Wait, was Emilio a bad teacher? No. He probably just forgot. There was always something happening. Like someone getting cursed and almost dying. Nora shoved the thoughts out of her head, focused on what was coming. Her body was tense, ready for a fight. A familiar silhouette reached her eye line, and all tension dropped from her body. “It’s just a ghoul.” Nora grumbled. Disappointed, because the last one she’d seen killed itself without any help from her or Thea. Well. A little help. More started popping up around them. “A lot of ghouls.” Nora amended.

—

Training was useless if you didn’t treat it with the same ferocity you would a real fight. That was what his mother always said, her reasoning for the brutality in her methods. If Rosa stabbed Emilio because he wasn’t fast enough to avoid it, whose fault was it? Would he expect an undead monster to go easy on him because he was a child, because he was slow? If Edgar broke his arm because he hesitated, who had made the mistake? Of course, Emilio would hold back with Nora… but that didn’t mean Nora ought to hold back with him. If anything, it should make her more brutal. “I’ll find some. Branches or something, I don’t know.” No way in hell would he shell out money for real targets.

Or they could just settle for the moving kind. Whatever was coming at them in the graveyard would make for good practice, considering Emilio was there to ensure things didn’t get too dangerous. He could let Nora take on whatever was here, and he could step in if things looked bleak. His mother had never done that for him, would have berated him for doing it for someone else, but he thought it was the best course of action. He could train Nora without letting her get hurt. He had to be able to do that.

As they moved, following Nora’s nose and Emilio’s senses, he took note of the shape ahead of them. A ghoul. He thought of Nora in the graveyard, the morning he’d found her before it was light out sitting by a statue and mourning the fact that she’d killed something that was already dead. She’d been so hard on herself for it then, and he carefully glanced over to her now. She looked disappointed. Was she remembering the way she’d felt last time? “You can go back to Axis,” he said carefully. “I can meet you there. This shouldn’t take me long. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”

—

Branches for targets. That would be funny. It would add an odd decoration to their already odd work environment. Nora could paint tiny circles on them to aim at. Already, she could imagine the apartment covered in knife holes from missed throws. That wasn't her problem. It was also probably what the inside of Jeff's apartment looked like. The crypt also wouldn't have that problem. The crypt had nice and sturdy walls made out of stone. Absolutely no way knives would poke holes in those walls. Nora made the mental note to use that in any future arguments about which dwelling was better.

"Four against one?" Nora rolled her neck in a circle, a crack coming from its base. "In this economy?" Her arms raised as she started to stretch them out. Was stretching before a fight necessary? Especially after the two of them had just been sparing? Nora didn't know. But the people in movies always did their little stretches before running into the heat of battle. Nora's eyes flicked down to her hands as she tried to decide which weapon she was attacking. "Is this a knife or a stake fight?" Nora asked, squinting at the nearest ghoul. Remembering the way the last ghoul she'd seen cracked its head open on a headstone, Nora shoved the stake. Another day she would get her first dusting. Was that something to want? If they weren't a spawn they would be a living, breat- maybe not breathing- person, like Metzli. Whatever. Thought for a different time. Today her thoughts were on the ghouls.

Stick with him. Nora reminded herself of the one instruction she'd been given. She could do that, right? Nora unsheathed Slayer. How many ghouls had the knife killed before Emilio gave it to her? A ghoul had circled around them, staring Nora down. Nora stared back at it. She thought they were cool little fellas, with their sharp teeth and funny faces. It was a shame they weren't nice. Nora could probably fit this whole pack in her crypt and they could have all lived there as a happy family. Alas, that was their loss. The ghoul made a feinting sweep at her. Nora raised her knife. Stay close to Emilio, she reminded herself. Follow the one instruction. Oh chingados it. Chingado it? Fuck it. Nora flickered and rippled as an illusionary clone twined out of her. The pair of them rushed the ghoul in tandem.

The tactic worked to confuse the ghoul. It stepped back, tripping as the pair rushed it. As both Nora stabbed their knives at the creature, Nora was disappointed to learn that it was a lot tougher than she'd assumed, the blade scrapping off the tough skin with a harsh sound. "The fuck are these things made out of?" Nora's illusionary double disappeared from existence, as she dropped out of the way of a returning blow. That was the problem with the illusion trick. One of her could hit and the other could only pretend. Nora kicked the ghoul after it missed its blow at her. Thank god her boots came with tough toes because she did not think through the fact that they had equally as tough skin. "God, it's brutal out here."

—

Was he so pathetic that Nora thought he couldn’t handle the fight on his own? Emilio didn’t want her to sacrifice whatever strange morality had made her mourn the ghoul she’d killed just because she thought he was someone who needed protecting. His mother’s voice was a harsh echo in his head, reminding him of all the times she’d berated him for being too soft, too weak, too stupid to be a functional slayer. Nora wouldn’t have felt the need to stay for Rosa, would she? Not for Edgar, not for Victor. Emilio had always been the least valuable of the Cortez children, and now he was the only one left. How disappointed his mother would have been in him. How ashamed.

“Knife,” he said tightly, “but you know this.” She’d killed one before, and he doubted she’d used a stake to do it. If she had, maybe she’d have been less torn up about it. Maybe there was something less scary about killing a monster with a slab of wood than killing it with a shining blade. Maybe it made it hurt less. In any case, Nora didn’t seem to be thinking about that now. She launched herself at the ghoul with all the prowess he’d been working to instill in her, and if he weren’t so worried he might have been proud.

She was quick, at least. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ducked a blow from his own ghoul, which had come at him the moment it was close enough to snap. He’d fought a thousand of these things before, found them just a step above spawn vampires in terms of entertainment. A slayer’s version of busywork, really — not a huge threat, but not something he wanted around, either.

He was more worried about Nora than he was the ghouls, not because he didn’t think she could handle them but because he was concerned how she’d react when she realized she could. Emilio wasn’t good at big, emotional talks like the one he’d given her in the graveyard that night, didn’t know how to comfort her the way she’d needed comforting. The fact that he’d managed it once had been miraculous. He wouldn’t put money on him being able to do it again.

Shoving his knife through a weak spot in the skin of the closest ghoul’s neck, Emilio kicked the thing back with his good leg and let it fall to the ground. It’d bleed out before it could do any more damage, so he moved on to the next. “You don’t need to be here if you don’t want to be,” he told Nora, careful and uncertain. “I don’t want you to be upset. I can take these on my own.” Four — or, rather, three now that he’d dispatched one — against one wasn’t good odds, even for someone with Emilio’s experience, but he’d chance it if it meant Nora was okay. Physically and emotionally.

—

In Nora's mind, the day Emilio had found her crying in the graveyard was the start of them. The start of her Axis apprenticeship. The start of a friendship. The start of her journey into the supernatural with him as her mentor. In her mind, she forgot the promise that bound her to never speak of Debbie. The words they had exchanged that night hadn't been thinly veiled behind the death of a ghoul that ultimately had meant nothing in the scheme of things. In Nora's mind, Emilio had listened to her story of killing Debbie and had forgiven her for it. He wasn't proud, because Nora didn't want him to be proud. Who could be proud of taking Debbie's life, the life of a girl her own age, who had just as much to live for as Nora? But he'd accepted she'd done it in self-defense, and most importantly he'd still accepted her.

Nora was delusional.

Because that night, Emilio never knew about Debbie. Emilio only knew about the ghoul that the girl was upset about. Now as Nora stabbed a blade into the side ghoul she'd faced, she couldn't even pretend to think of the ghoul she'd hidden behind then. Besides claiming its death as her first victory, and using a photo to torment a stranger who didn't want her to die, it had meant nothing more. When Emilio hit her with the "I don't want you to be upset. I can take these on my own." Nora was left with nothing but confusion.

The ghoul's dark, thick, rancid blood sluggishly pooled onto her fingers and she tore the blade back out of the creature and it fell to the ground. "Upset?" Nora asked him, a question tinting her monotone. "They're trying to kill us, Mimi. Isn't this what I've been training for? Self-defense?" The body collapsed to the ground in front of her, just in time for another ghoul to leap at her. Nora threw herself out of the way, rolling to the ground.

On the ground, Nora got a close-up of the talon-like claws the ghoul possessed. "They are kind of cute," Nora admitted. Scrambling to her feet. A jaw snapped around the air her leg had just been. "It would be nice if they didn't want to kill us." Hadn't Nora given him a picture of her next to one of their dead bodies? Wasn't it weird that he didn't want her to be upset? "Besides, I want to help. I'm your apprentice, right?" The question hung heavy, clear uncertainty in Nora's voice as she asked. She'd never said the word out loud to him before. Worried that he would laugh, and tell her that he was just helping her so she wouldn't be the next dumb kid. And that those two were not the same as being an apprentice. Nora stepped out of the way, a talon swiping where she had once been standing. Maybe these creatures were like her, they relied on fear to feed. The fear was supposed to paralyze their victims and make them harder to catch, or something. Because from where Nora was standing, they seemed pretty useless.

—

It was hard to match up the Nora fighting off ghouls now with the one he’d found in the graveyard those months ago, mourning the loss of something he hadn’t understood. Granted, it was hard to match that kid in the graveyard with the front Nora displayed most days, but right now? She’d been heartbroken over that damn ghoul, had gone on and on about what made a monster a monster. Had Emilio’s lecture about self defense really been this effective? Or the months he’d spent teaching her the difference between a sentient beast and a mindless one? He found that hard to believe. He wasn’t good enough at talking to make that much of a difference, and he knew it.

Maybe it was adrenaline. It was easy to feel okay about something in the moment, when your blood was buzzing and the violence wrapped you up in a tight grip. The after was what stung. Emilio thought of Mexico, of his uncle’s desperate apology and the knife he’d stuck into his gut in response. He hadn’t felt guilty about it in the moment. It wasn’t until days later that it weighed on him, wasn’t until months after that it became all he thought about. He’d never escape that feeling; he didn’t deserve to. But he didn’t want Nora to feel the same. He didn’t want Nora to feel any of the things he felt, didn’t want her to turn out like he had.

It was self defense in the moment. But what would it be when she got home later? What would she think when she was alone in her crypt, when the action died down? Some nights, Emilio swore he woke up with his uncle’s blood still caked beneath his fingernails. Would these damn ghouls haunt Nora’s nightmares the same way? “It is self defense,” he agreed. “It is. You don’t have to feel bad about it. It’s them or you, ¿vale? Like we talked about before. But if you’re not ready, that’s okay, too.”

Was thinking they were cute the beginning of another spiral? She didn’t seem upset when she said it, was willing to acknowledge that the ghouls were trying to kill them even if she seemed to think it would be better if they weren’t. “You are,” he confirmed, “but I worry more about you being okay than I do about this. The training goes as fast or as slow as you need it to. I know you were upset about the ghoul before. It’s okay if you want to stop for the night and go home now.”

—

¿Vale? It was another word that had slipped into Nora's vocabulary recently, taught by Emilio, and repeated for memorization. Okay? But why was he making such a big deal out of this? Of course, it was them or the ghouls. Nora didn't plan on dying, she also didn't plan on letting Emilio die. Despite how often he felt the need to remind her that she couldn’t count on him being around forever, and despite that, he didn’t actually need her help.. Even with his bum knee, he was one of the best fighters Nora knew, maybe second only to Metzli. "Vale,” Nora repeated the word back, the Spanish practiced from late night listening to youtube videos to get the pronunciation down.

“Don't tell me you're going soft on these ghouls." If Nora was a person full of freely given expressions, she might have found it in her to laugh. Instead, she was still staring down the ghoul that was intent on making her his dinner. The joke was on him. There was going to be one person eating well tonight, and it would be Nora. Her stomach let out a long-suffering grumble, as if he hadn’t eaten all day, at the thought. Nora could probably convince Emilio to get them a nice fresh honey-smoked ham after this. A victory meal. That seemed doable.

Then Emilio said the magic words that shattered her delusion. The magic words that reminded her she'd been hired under false pretenses. That he hired a kid crying over a ghoul, and not a kid crying over baby’s first murder, and the life-changing consequences. Hiring a hunter-killer. Because despite telling Nora that she had the right to defend herself, would he really believe that if he knew she’d killed a hunter her own age? Just another kid. The shattering of her reality, the breaking of her heart, the symphony of guilt wracking her, all of it was a distraction. The ghoul got a good swipe. Nora moved, but not in time. Its claws knicked against her arm, ripping her beloved jacket and causing a sting of pain to flutter over her. The scent of her own blood filled her nostrils. "Chingado!" She hoped she was using the word right, wouldn't it be embarrassing to learn a curse word in a different language and use it wrong? Wait, that thought itself was a distraction. An escape down a different path so she wouldn’t have to face the reality staring at her.

There was too much happening at once. Too many moving parts, Nora needed to break them down into sections. She needed to understand them so she could address them. First, start with what was in front of her. A ghoul, droplets of her blood clinging to its left claw. That wouldn't do. Nora ran at the ghoul, it braced, ready to snap at her, she slid under his outstretched claws that were ready to grab her again until she was under his belly. Slayer jammed itself into the belly of the beast as she slide under it. The knife wasn't strong enough to do the dramatic rip down the middle that she wanted. It stuck, heavy in one spot, but she dove it deeper and deeper. The ghoul gave a final heave of breath. Its body, now an empty husk, collapsed all at once on Nora, still laying on the blood-splattered ground under it. It was heavy. A lot heavier than she expected, then again when she'd created that plan she hadn't expected it to land dead on top of her. She hadn’t been planning any sort of escape at all.

Nora started kicking the creature, trying to shove it off her, but it didn’t want to move. Being stuck in one place gave her ample time to deconstruct the other thoughts invading her mind. The second thing to consider, Emilio cared that she cared about ghouls. Emilio, who was trained to fight these things. Emilio who had done her best to understand the crying kid in the graveyard, despite not caring about ghouls. He cared that Nora cared. Warmth filled her. Fondness for her mentor overwhelmed her heart. How lucky was she to have someone that cared? She wondered what her own dads would have done in a similar situation. They had never listened to her beg about not wanting to do a photoshoot. She had never once been met with an “Okay, you can stay home, and we’ll get a different model. You don’t have to do this.” It was always she had to do it. It needed to be done. She needed to consider her future. Didn’t she care about the family legacy? Was this what unconditional acceptance felt like? Before Nora could follow that thought, bask in its warmth, and hold it in her heart forever, it was chased away by guilt.

The third thing to consider. Nora had been lying to Emilio this whole time. That didn't feel great. Was theirs, not a relationship built on honesty? Didn't Nora know that if she ever asked Emilio about something, she would be met with an honest answer to the best of his ability? And she hadn't been giving him the same courtesy? Nora struggled under the ghoul, trying her best to push the heavy creature off her, she didn’t want to lay here with her thoughts, she wanted to be back in the action. Its blood oozed against her, staining her clothes. That really sucked. An extra suck on the sucker punch that was hitting her emotions.

"You know how I told you my best friend is a fae?" Nora asked, she might as well have been talking to the ghoul. She pretended she was talking to the ghoul, instead of admitting she'd been lying this whole time. Her hand came to her side, where it always rested when she thought of the promise that night. The imprint of the scar, easy to trace even if the muscle memory wasn’t ingrained in her. "It wasn't the ghoul. I mean, there was a ghoul. You saw the picture. But it wasn’t the ghoul. But there was a promise." Was that enough? Would he understand she couldn't talk about it? Could he forgive a lie? Could she brush past it? If Nora was good at anything, it was brute force. She could brute force her way past her shameful confession. This wouldn’t be a problem.

"Ghouls are nothing, right?" Nora doubled her efforts against her dead jailor. God, why were they so heavy? Its body was starting to turn to goo. She was going to be so disgusting after this. Nora wasn’t squeamish, she didn’t mind getting dirty, but this was just excessive. Did she have quarters to do laundry? "Childs play. Probably. I don't know. Did you hunt these as a child?" Nora was changing the subject, reaching for something to talk about Emilio. Asking to remain in his life, know about it even. She was always curious about his past. He shrouded himself in so much mystery. So much dramatic mystery. Whatever his pat was, it had fucked him up. "Also, when you're done with that ghoul, do you think you can help me? I.. Well. I made a calculated decision but man am I bad at math. I think I need to start lifting weights.” Emilio had enhanced strength, Nora would have to fight tooth and nail for her own enhanced strength. But she’d do it. To be just like him.

—

She said vale, and a burst of pride went through him. It was stupid, it was nonsensical, but he felt it all the same. Hearing this kid, who cared what he thought and asked him for answers when she was stuck on something, use a word he’d taught her, a word in the language that had lived on his tongue for as long as he’d been aware of language at all…

There was something special about Spanish. His relationship with it was strange and complex and not something he entirely understood, but he knew it was special. It was a contradiction, it was a comfort. It was the language in which his mother had torn him down for his own good, it was the language he had once used to sing his daughter to sleep. Flora’s first words had been in Spanish; her last words must have been, too. This language, it was a part of him in a way English wasn’t, in a way English never could be. And Nora had asked him to teach her. More than that, Nora used what he taught her. She asked because she wanted to know, and she wanted to know, at least in part, because of him. He wasn’t sure anyone else had ever wanted that, had ever cared to that extent.

But there wasn’t much room for thoughts of sentimentality in a fight. There never had been. It was the kind of thing his mother would have berated and punished him for. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, you’ll take a knife to it. Better not to have one at all. It was one of the first lessons he’d learned, one of the ones he’d least wanted to pass along to his daughter. Let her keep her heart. Let Nora keep hers, too. It didn’t matter if it was soft, didn’t matter if it grieved ghouls and inspired sympathy towards men who were little more than sharpened knives looking to cause as much damage to the world as they could before they left it. Let her keep her heart on her sleeve. Emilio would step in and take any knife that came for it, would keep it from being carved to pieces even if it meant throwing his own heart on the knife in its place. His was too far gone to salvage, anyway. Like the rest of him, it was at its most useful when taking damage meant for someone else.

Nora yelled out a curse, another that he’d taught her, and Emilio tensed as the ghoul came at her. He prepared himself to jump in, readied himself to take whatever blow it would cost him to abandon his own fight and jump into hers, and there was something almost funny about that. Growing up in a family of slayers meant he was used to fighting with and providing backup, but backup had looked so different back in Mexico. He’d loved his siblings and he’d known they loved him back, but neither of them would have risked their own life to save his if he bit off more than he could chew. Neither of them would have taken a blow meant for him, even if the blow was a fatal one. You took spare slayers to a fight so that someone would be able to pick up your slack when you fell, not with the hope that they’d keep you from falling to begin with. Rhett might have done it for him, but Rhett was different. The exception to every rule, the only person (until recently) who’d ever seemed to care if Emilio walked away from a fight.

Emilio wasn’t Rhett and he knew it, but he prepared himself to step in anyway. It wasn’t necessary. Nora, with all the practice she’d gotten lately, could hold her own. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slid under the ghoul, heart in his throat as her knife found a home. For a moment, he feared it wouldn’t be enough. He knew she needed better knives, sharper ones, ones more designed for this sort of thing, but he also knew she likely wouldn’t accept them. Giving her an iron knife wasn’t a bad idea, but given her friendly relationship with the fae she’d mentioned in the past, he got the feeling she wouldn’t like having it around. And she could manage with what she had; this was proof enough of that.

The ghoul fell, and Nora didn’t roll away quickly enough to keep it from falling on her. Emilio watched frantically, not releasing the breath he held in his chest until the moment she began to move beneath it. He knew, logically, that she was fine. The ghoul hadn’t gotten another blow in before she’d delivered the killing one, hadn’t been fast enough to leave her with anything worse than claw marks in her arm. He knew that. But he needed more than that, sometimes. Knowing wasn’t always enough. Sometimes, Emilio needed to see it, too. He needed visual proof. He needed tactile proof, too, sometimes, needed to touch something to know it was real. He couldn’t always trust his own eyes; that was evident enough by the way the streets of Wicked’s Rest sometimes flickered and turned into the streets of Mexico when there was blood on his hands, when someone he cared about was in trouble, when a kid in a crowd looked a little too much like Flora or when a woman laughed in a way that reminded him of Juliana.

But Nora was speaking, tone characteristically flat and monotonous in a way that told him she was fine. If he listened closely enough, he could hear her heartbeat, too. He focused on the ghoul he was fighting as she spoke, ducking a swipe of its claw. “Your friend is fae. Yes, you told me.” He was hopeful that this friend of hers was kind enough not to trap her in any binds, though it was still a little hard to be trustful. There was a reason why Emilio watched his words even among his friends; it was impossible to know, sometimes, whether or not someone was putting on a front.

And then Nora continued, spoke of how the thing she was mourning in the graveyard that night wasn’t a ghoul at all. Emilio’s brow furrowed, and he dodged another swipe from his ghoul before growing bored enough of the fight to stick his knife into the side of its head and drop it. A new silence filled the graveyard as the gears in Emilio’s head turned, rotating the new information she’d given him around and around. There was a promise. So her friend had bound her after all, and there was something she couldn’t talk about. She’d used the ghoul as a catalyst, a substitute for something else. Something she’d been mourning in a graveyard, something she’d spoken about with grief and regret and guilt and —

Oh.

The realization hit him all at once. There was a ghoul, and she had killed it. But that wasn’t what she’d been mourning the night he found her, the night their dynamic shifted from one of a surly detective trying to keep an annoying kid from getting herself killed into whatever it was they had now. There was a ghoul, and she’d killed it.

But there was something else, too.

Immediately, his mind was flooded with questions he knew she couldn’t answer. What was it and what happened and what did you do and are you okay? The last one felt surprising, somehow, as if it wasn’t a question he wanted to ask her all the time, as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind at all most days, beating in his chest like a mantra. Are you okay, are you okay, are you okay. He had a feeling he knew the answer to it right now, and he had a feeling it wasn’t the answer he might want it to be. You didn’t kill something without feeling the blood on your hands for the rest of your life. You didn’t feel that regret in pieces. You couldn’t.

Slowly, he moved towards her. Lifted the dead ghoul off of her, cast it aside. He looked at it for a moment, brow furrowed as he processed the new information. “I was probably six,” he offered quietly. “Maybe younger. Used to lock me in a shed with them, you know? Here’s a knife, here’s a ghoul. Figure it out or don’t, but don’t make a mess.” He offered Nora a hand to pull her to her feet. “You good? Your arm?”

—

Emilio’s confirmation peppered the air before her confession. Then the words were out there, in the universe, on display for a smart detective to put together. They faded into the night, the only sound left behind was the single ghoul. The lone survivor from a pack of four, culled down by two people who didn’t even extend the courtesy of giving them their full attention in their final moments. Nora could hear the growls and snarls as it challenged her mentor. Ex-mentor? Maybe.

Thump.

The final sound of the ghoul’s life was its body hitting the ground. Death’s old friend, his drinking buddy, delivered one more life into its grasp. Silence swelled in its place. The moment between seconds expanded into minutes, into hours, until it seemed to stretch into a century. All the while Nora had convinced herself that Emilio would leave. While Nora was trapped under the ghoul, he would rid himself of the murderer, annoyance, and problem. He would use this confession as a reason to replace her with someone who didn’t lie to him. Honesty was what made their team work, it was the promise he had made her. It was important.

Footsteps.

The familiar and comforting scent of Irish Spring Soap, alcohol, and cigarettes approached. Time collapsed in on itself, it must have only been two seconds and a racing mind. The weight that had held her in place was lifted and tossed aside like it was nothing. God, she really was going to need to work extra hard if she wanted to catch up strength wise. Fuck. She could have used the bear. Why hadn’t she shifted. Instead, she’d let herself appear like a weak burden who couldn’t solve a problem. A burden and a murderer, was there anything worse to wish on somebody?

Emilio’s hand offered her help. It was calloused and in desperate need of lotion. Nora’s hands were dirty, dirt and goo from the ghoul packed under her nails. All of her was a ghoulish mess. Sick. And not in the way she normally encompassed the word. Nora tried to brush herself off, but it ended in a gross concoction of the graveyard dirt, ghoul blood and ghoul decomposition smearing over her jacket and across her overalls. It was a losing battle, Nora accepted her defeat and gave up. It was time to face her other losing battle. Time to face Emilio.

Nora’s eyes searched for his. Searched for the gaze that surely held the condemnation she knew she deserved. Was it the self-hatred in her that wanted that? Because surely Emilio had never given her any reason to suspect that he couldn’t be okay with a confession she couldn’t confess to if he understood the promise that bound her. But logic always seemed so elusive when it came to Debbie and the actions of that night. Would she ever be done punishing herself for protecting her friends? A crime, that by all rights, belonged placed at the foot of Debbie’s grave. Because if she hadn’t chosen to kill that night, she would have never been killed in return. The five girls would have entered the grocery store, had their breakfast club moment, and left. No harm. No promise. No murder.

There wasn’t hatred in Emilio’s gaze. There wasn’t the condemnation she was begging for as punishment for her crimes. There wasn’t betrayal over a lie about a ghoul. There wasn’t even annoyance that he had to come help her. Because Emilio had never exhibited any of those emotions towards her. Well, maybe annoyance, but the case of Debbie lived so firmly in her mind that she couldn’t get out of it. In Emilio’s eyes was worry, realization and understanding. Two out of the three she knew she didn’t deserve, but all made her feel unfairly safe.

“Six?” His parents had chosen to put their six year old against ghouls? Six with a ‘figure it out or don’t?’ He’d mentioned something about his mother before, something about her being tough and dead. It wasn’t coming to mind at the moment. But how could anyone ask a six year old to do that? “Six?” Nora repeated the age. Her voice did a good job at keeping her monotone. It didn’t betray the quiver in her throat. It didn’t acknowledge the scratching behind her eyes. Her eyes were the betrayers. A tear, one singular droplet, manifested where it wasn’t wanted. A show of emotion that always displayed itself around the memory of Debbie.

Nora lurched forward, arms wrapping themselves around Emilio, face pressed into hiding. This was an unprecedented action. This was an attempt to hide the emotion brewing around her while trying to express all the words she never had words for. This was a copy of the relief and love Cass had shown her in their hug, and the gratitude and support Van had given in their hug. It was only one tear, but the tear held the weight of the world with it. It cried for Debbie, her lies, the anxiety of the moment. It also cried for the six year old who’d been locked in a shed with monsters, who had still grown up to be the kindest, smartest and most reliable person Nora had ever met.

“Está bien, mi brazo está bien.” The question had been asked a lifetime ago or a moment ago. Time wasn’t working in the graveyard tonight. Except for a light sting across her arm, she could have forgotten it’d been hurt at all. “Oh. My bad.” Because she’d still been hugging him, when the most contact the two of them had shared were a pat on the arm or a shoulder bump. Nora detached herself, looking away as if she was examining the bodies of the decomposing ghouls. “Good job with yours.” Nora told him, like she was the mentor, like she wasn’t the one who’d been stuck under. “Guess training since you’ve been six pays off, right?” Nora’s hands slipped into her pockets, fingers fidgeting with whatever junk they found in there.

“Do hunters have a clean up protocol? Something to keep the norms from finding out?” Nora paused for a beat. “Norms. Normals. You know, the people who don’t know anything. Do we have a name for them? Civvies? But that’s military talk, and fuck the military. I ain’t no bootlicker.” Nora knew she was rambling to cover up her faux paus. “I’m assuming we don’t want them to find out about ghouls?” How they didn’t find out about anything in this town was beyond her. Behind every door was a new supernatural creature waiting to eat someone or something. Nora pulled out one of her lighters. “Please tell me it's arson.”

—

There was something reflected in her eyes when he finally pulled that ghoul off her, something in the way she paused. She was looking at him and, to anyone else, her face would seem just as blank as it always was. A carefully curated mask, painted on so carefully and painstakingly that there wasn’t a crack to be found. Would Emilio recognize the seams if he didn’t have his own mask that he put on every morning? Would he see through the blankness if not for the way she looked so much like the scared, anguished kid he’d found in the graveyard that night?

She was good at the mask, she was so good at it. But there was something reflected in her eyes, and Emilio recognized it. He’d seen it in the mirror more times than he could count.

If anyone knew what it was like to hate yourself wholeheartedly, it was Emilio. How many times had he bore his chest to a knife and begged the person holding it to push it between his ribs? How many mornings had he opened his eyes to find himself disappointed at the sunlight streaming through the window, grieving the fact that he’d woken up? Emilio knew what it was to look at yourself and see nothing worth being. He knew how it felt to hate yourself so entirely that the idea of someone else loving you felt almost wrong, like you were pulling one over on them somehow. And he hated seeing that reflected in Nora’s eyes now, hated knowing that she felt the same kind of things that had driven him to recklessness so often that his mind was almost forced to call it what it was.

He didn’t know what she did. He had an idea, of course — strangely, he thought of Ren, showing up at his apartment just a little while before he found Nora and recounting a story of killing a warden that had been about to kill her. But while Ren had been able to share the details of her tragedy, Nora was bound against it. He didn’t know the details of what Nora had done, and he probably never would. But he could guess. He could guess what she’d been through, could make an assumption about people like him and the lengths they’d go to when they thought they were right. In another life, where things had gone differently, she could have been sitting in front of some other man, covered in dirt and grime, and recounting a story of an angry slayer with a limp who she’d had to kill before he killed her. In another world, in the cruelest of them, Emilio might carry a silver blade and tell stories about the bear he’d killed with it.

He tried not to think of either of them now, tried to focus only on the world that existed in front of him — the one where Nora sat on the ground, looking up at him with wide eyes and a secret she couldn’t share. The one where he loved her anyway, even if that love wasn’t a thing he knew how to put to words anymore. Even if he never had to begin with.

She seemed a little horrified at the revelation that he’d been fighting ghouls since he was six, and he decided not to tell her that ghouls weren’t the first thing he’d fought. The Cortezes started their children off young, took pride in it. He was taught how to kill the least dangerous monsters first, the ones that often didn’t need killing at all. And he wondered, sometimes, what that had been for. Was it to get his body accustomed to the movements, to teach legs still learning how to walk that they needed to fight, too? Or was that a more psychological level of training, a way to turn off whatever part of a person’s brain fought against such things before it had ever had time to form at all?

He’d never thought his upbringing was odd until he’d been expected to raise his daughter the same. He still struggled, sometimes, thinking it was wrong for him to have been raised that way, because Emilio had probably deserved it. Emilio was too soft and too brutal, too quiet and too loud. Emilio was a thousand terrible contradictions wrapped up in a single irredeemable package, and nothing like that could ever deserve to have anyone decent grieve for it.

But here was Nora, grieving it anyway. Brave and brash and softer than she’d let anyone see, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that it might have hurt if he’d let it. He dropped his hands, patting her back carefully.

She was still grieving something, just as she had been in that graveyard the night they’d gone from whatever it was they were before to whatever it was they were now. She was still mourning it. The difference, he thought, was that now, he could mourn it with her. Every weight got a little bit lighter when you had someone to help you carry it. And Emilio was strong enough to carry a hell of a lot of weight.

She spoke again, Spanish once more, and it was so hard not to think of the daughter he’d lost. It was so hard not to think of the way she’d fall and scrape her knee only to jump up and utter the same words, like she was afraid to say anything else. ¡Está bien, papi! He ached, and he was no longer sure what he was aching for. Was he grieving what he’d lost, what Nora lost, what his daughter lost? Was he grieving all three at once? And did it matter, at the end of the day? Grief was grief. There no matter the reason, heavy regardless of what it was for. He could grieve one or two or all three at the same time and it wouldn’t matter. The grief would never feel any lighter.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her about the hug or the ghoul or the murder or the childhood he’d never had or all of it. “It’s all right, kid.” He looked back to the ghouls, dead and decomposing long before he and Nora came across them but doing it quietly now. He let out a quiet huff of air as Nora began to ramble. When she finished, he only nodded. “Sure. It can be arson. What do you say, kid? Want to light them up?”

Yeah. They’d be all right.

#chatzy #chatzy: emilio #into the mentorverse

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