Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: NSFW, Apocalypse AU Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4489 A/N: So excited to share with you all my contribution to this month’s bnharem smut server collaboration. I would like to give a big thanks to @candychronicles​ for beta reading this and to @hisoknen​ for introducing me to Fotor. My banner looks so much better now thanks to you. Don’t forget to check out everyone else’s stories here!

If there’s one thing you miss most about the old world it’s the color green. The bright green of trees in the summer, the soft grass you would run through barefoot, the small insects that blend in so well with their surroundings. You haven’t seen any of that in ages. As you run through the woods, all you can see is brown. The moss patterns snaking their way up tree trunks have all disappeared. Dead leaves crunch under your heavy boots and the trees around you are so dry they could catch fire in an instant.

You stop to catch your breath. How long have you been running? Two miles? You’re not sure if you lost the raiders or not. What you do know is that you’re alone, you don’t have much food and if you don’t find a good source of water soon, the oozing cut on your leg will become infected.

You find a tree stump to rest on and take a swig out of your canteen. You’re tired. Your body has never ached this much before. Every muscle is pounding, every crevasse uges to be stretched. As you try to move your left leg, you can’t help but hold back tears. It stings too much. You take the bandana out of your hair and tightly tie it around the slice in your leg. You take a safety pin out of your backpack and secure the cloth. It’s not much, but it will keep pressure on the wound until you can find something to patch it up. You might need to raid someone’s campsite to find a bandage. The thought sickens you. You hate associating yourself with them.

You were the medic of your team, the keeper of all the medicine, bandages and any antiseptic wipes that you came across. Your team members would do the hunting and the raiding and they would come back to base each with an arm full of food and supplies for the lot of you.

Then they started dropping like flies. One of them got sick and wouldn’t get better. Another got an infection that you couldn’t get rid of. You still beat yourself up for his death every time you think about him. One of your teammates went hunting and never came back. Pretty soon it was just you and your team leader. You stayed together for a week. She taught you how to hunt and you taught her what plants were edible and which ones could be used for healing. Then the raiders came and now it is just you.

You close your backpack and stand up. Nothing good will come out of sulking, so you might as well try and make a move on.

As the sun sets, the fiery orange colors swarm across the sky. The moon rises up and slowly comes into view. At least that’s one thing that’s the same from the old world.

Without the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can feel the stinging of the cut on your leg even more. You limp through the woods at the pace of a tortoise for what feels like hours.

The only food in your backpack is a can of fruit salad leftover from an abandoned grocery store raid. It’s something, but it wouldn’t be enough to subside the growling in your stomach.

A light catches your eye. Smoke rises from the top of the trees. You could go over there and see how many people there are. If there’s only one you might be able to take them on. Two or more could end in a disaster, but if you have the slightest chance of making it out with gauze and a hunk of meat roasted over the fire you might be able to survive the night.

Your eyes squint and you walk forward, trying to get a closer look. You are off your guard when you feel something tug around your ankle and hoist you into the air. You can’t help but let out a small shriek. You are quick to cover your mouth with your hand but you are very much aware that the noise alerted the people near the fire.

“Well well well,” a voice from below you sang. “Looks like I caught a little dove.”

The rope around your ankle is tight. You feel your foot starting to grow numb as the person from below lowers the trap, setting you free.

“Who are you?” You fiddle with the rope but the knot is too tight.

“Allow me.” You look up at the person, the man standing in front of you. He takes out a large swiss army knife and opens the blade. He saws through the rope, careful not to cut you. “Sorry about that,” he says when it’s finally off. “People don’t usually come around here so I’ve never gotten anyone hung up on these bigger traps.”

He extends a hand out for you and you take a moment to study his features. He has messy ash blonde hair that is slightly overgrown. His toned muscles are enunciated by the fact that he is only wearing an undershirt.

You grab his big, slightly sweaty hand and stumble up from the ground.

“Whoa easy there.” His friendly tone of voice hits differently than the other people you have come across throughout your nomadic travels. It’s very soothing, trustworthy. And that makes you worry all the more.

“What do you want from me?” you ask.

The man eyes you up and down. His gaze makes you feel uncomfortable, like he’s eating you up with his eyes.

“What happened there?” He points to your leg and the blood soaked bandana that has begun sliding down to your ankle.

“Raiders.” A one word response that everyone knew meant trouble. “Now answer my question. What do you want from me?” Your voice is sturdy and, in your opinion, threatening.

But the man just laughs. “Trust me, dove. There isn’t much I want from you.” He begins walking back towards his camp site. You watch as he leaves but he stops in his tracks. “Coming?”

--

The man’s campsite was small. A red pickup truck is parked at one end of the clearing. It doesn’t look like it runs anymore. Mud and dirt have been spread along its side to cover up its bright hue.

“So,” the man asks. “Do you have a name?” He is fiddling with the contents in a small lock box as he speaks.

“I’m,” you seath as the pain from your leg begins to get to you. “(Y/n).”

“That’s a pretty name,” the man says. “I’m Keigo. So, (Y/n). Let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

You are confused. People in this day and age aren’t usually nice, especially to stragglers like yourself. “What are you doing?” you ask when you see him come over to you with a cloth soaked in some substance. You pull your leg back out of instinct but your breath hitches again when the stinging returns.

“It’s just an antiseptic,” he says while putting his arms up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cautiously, you scooch over to him and rest your leg on a small tree stump.

Keigo slowly pulls his arms back down and kneels on the ground, taking your leg in his firm hand. His hand is warm. It’s big, much bigger than yours, but it has a gentle touch that calms you down as he presses the cloth to your wound.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the stinging.

“Sh sh sh I’m sorry. I know it stings.” He extends a hand out for you to grasp and you squeeze it as he continues wiping the dry blood off of your leg.

It isn’t long before your leg is bandaged up tightly, keeping pressure on the gauze underneath.

“That should hold for a while.” Keigo smiles down at his work and you can’t help but find it a little bit arrogant.

“How did you even get your hands on antiseptic? I was like the medic of my group and we could never find anything more than those shitty wipes during grocery store and pharmacy raids.”

Keigo looks at you with a smirk lacing his face. His friendly eyes are replaced with dangerous ones, ones that cause a hot pit to form in your stomach and travel lower, below your belt. “Let’s just say I have a few dirty tricks up my sleeve.”

“S-so you’re a raider,” you stutter. “You stole that bottle from another person.”

He chuckles slightly and the sound causes goosebumps to run up your spine. “Not exactly, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but believe what you will. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re confused, somewhat afraid, and slightly turned on by the deepness of his voice and the vibrations emanating from his laugh.

“You should stay for dinner,” he says, voice returning to the cheerful and almost goofy tone it had before.

You hesitate, but your stomach growls as if on cue and you spot the piece of meat Keigo has laid out to place over the fire. You let out a huff. “Why not.”

--

Keigo has cut the piece of meat in half. He places it on a hard plastic plate and slides it over to you. It’s juicy but bland. Still, you’re grateful to have a hot meal instead of having to gather berries and edible flowers.

“Is it good?” Keigo asks.

You nod your head, face stuffed full. “Yeah. I haven’t had chicken in so long.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You can’t help but laugh at the fake shocked expression gracing Keigo’s face.

“How did you even catch a chicken? They usually aren’t wandering around in the middle of the woods.”

“Neither are damsels in distress like yourself.” The sly smirk on Keigo’s face causes knots to form in your stomach as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a damsel in distress,” you mumble. Your head is turned in the other direction as you try to avoid eye contact.

Keigo raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Oh yeah? Tell me, how did you get out of that trap earlier? Oh, and who bandaged up your bloody calf and squeezed your hand when the pain was too much to bear?”

“Shut up.” You lean over to playfully shove him, but in the process you fall off the stump you were sitting on. Your butt hits the ground with a thud.

Keigo laughs and extends a hand for you to take.

You reach for it, but as soon as he pulls you up he has yanked you over to him. You are now sitting on his lap and your spine can’t help but shiver as his big calloused yet comforting hands drag up and down your exposed arms.

“Poor clumsy thing,” Keigo says, a darker tone taking over his voice. He continues to warm you up.

You can feel his hot breath tickle the back of your neck as he moves his hands up to your shoulder blades.

“You don’t do much fighting do you?” he asks. His thumbs methodically move to work the knots out of your shoulders.

“I–” You have to recollect your thoughts and focus on anything other than his hands and the magic they’re working. “I told you I was the medic of my group. I, ah, I spent a lot of time treating hunting wounds.”

“So you’re hunched over someone’s broken body all day.” He stops using his thumbs to attack your shoulders and moves to using his knuckles and fists. “I can see why you have all these knots then.”

You can’t help but contract your body forward as he moves his hands down your lower back. You let out an involuntarily breathy moan at his actions.

Keigo chuckles, leaning his mouth in the crook of your neck. “You know your skin is really soft,” he mumbles.

You bark out a laugh. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re going to make a skin suit out of me.”

He laughs too and he gives your sides a slight squeeze.

You turn and look at the ash blonde man. He weaves his fingers in his hair and looks back at you with a devilish smirk. He’s beautiful, one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. And he’s touching you. His hands are groping your shoulders and your sides. You want them to travel all over you, from the plushness of your ass to the valley between your breasts.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel something warm on your lips. Him. His lips crash into yours. It takes a moment for you to recognize your surroundings, what’s going on. His lips are dry and slightly cracked from the heat but you don’t mind.

Without removing your lips from his, you shift to a more comfortable position and Keigo is quick to continue roaming his hands all over you. He grabs your ass with one and tangles the other in your hair. When he pulls, you let out a gasp and he bites your lip, a low growl escaping his throat.

Tears pick in the corner of your eyes as the sensitive skin grows hot.

Keigo wipes them away with his thumbs. “I guess little doves don’t like teeth.” He picks up your arms and lazily wraps them around his neck. You clasp them together and adjust your position on his lap. “So tell me, dove. What kind of things do you like?”

Your face is hot. You wish you could smooth that feeling back but you can’t move under his gaze.

“What’s the matter?” he asks with that dark, sultry voice. “Cat got your tongue? I hear they prey on little birdies like you.”

You whimper slightly. There is so much you want to say to him but the heat pooling in your abdomen and the fluids leaking into your panties distract from any thoughts. Instead, you tangle your hands into his thick hair. It’s a bit greasy but so is yours. You don’t mind. You tug on a lock and grind your hips forward. You can feel the strain of his cock press onto your clothed folds, already soaked with anticipation.

“Someone’s a bit needy today aren’t we,” Keigo says. He takes one of his thumbs and puts it in your mouth. “Suck.”

His demand leaves you weak in the knees. You comply and begin sucking tightly on his thumb. Your tongue wraps around it and the bitter flavor is quick to take over your tastebuds.

As you suck on his thumb, Keigo moves his free hand up your tank top. He grabs one of your breasts and snakes his fingers underneath your bra to stroke your nipple.

You gasp as a shock of cold wind brushes past them. The bud becomes stiff and Keigo rolls the peak between his fingers.

“Are you gonna just sit there, or are you going to put that mouth to work?”

You blush and go back to sucking on his thumb. You lick a long stripe up the pad of his finger as he fondles your breast.

He slides his one hand around your chest and you hear the click of bra clasps becoming undone. The bra slides down your arms and you chuck it to the side.

Keigo takes his thumb out of your mouth and slides his other hand under your shirt. He thumbs over the sensitive skin of your nipple. “You know, you have a nice rack,” he says. “The perfect size, really.” He lifts your shirt up so he can see you in full. He traces his fingers over every scar and blemish you have gotten over the years of hiding and raiding and trying your hardest to put up a fight.

He leans in to press his mouth against your breast. He kisses between them and works his way down past the scars and scrapes to the waistband of your pants.

“Wait.” Your hands move to grab his wrist. “Is there, I don’t know, anywhere more comfortable where we could do this?”

Keigo looks around at the ground covered with dead leaves and miscellaneous supplies he’s tossed around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize little birdies like you need to be pampered.”

The tease in his voice nips at you like ice and you can’t help but feel even more overheated than you already are. “Little birdies have fragile bones,” you retort.

The wicked grin on his face widdens and he chuckles into your neck, nipping it and taking you off guard.

He slides his arms under you and hoists you up. He turns around so you can’t see where he’s walking but your legs wrap around him, clinging like a koala.

Keigo jumps up onto something. He sets you down and you can see that you’re now standing in the bed of the truck. An open sleeping bag lies over a busted up looking mattress. You can’t help but smile at the thought of laying in a bed for once, be that a broken mattress with springs poking out the sides.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel Keigo’s arm snake around you, pulling you close. You move your arms up and cup his cheek.

He leans in and kisses you again, this time with more force like a wild beast devouring its prey.

Your hands trail up his stomach under his shirt. Your fingers dance as they caress every one of his muscles. You are eager to rip the tight black t-shirt off of him and he can tell. As your fingernails rake their way down his back, Keigo lets go of your lips to pull off his shirt. In the split second he was off of your lips, you could see something red across his back. A tattoo maybe. You couldn’t make out what it was but it fades in your mind all together when he leans his mouth down to suck on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He makes sure to give them equal attention before yet again trailing his way down your stomach with soft and sweet kisses. As he pushes you back with a gentle touch, you fall back onto the busted mattress. A loud creaking noise emanates from the truck bed but Keigo doesn’t seem to notice. He resumes his position between your legs. His fingers masterfully undo the button of your jeans and slide them down your legs.

You have never felt this exposed. Sure you’ve been naked with other people before but never in the woods where anyone could come across you at any moment, be that a raider or a hunter or someone trying to escape just like yourself. Still, every time you look down your stomach and meet Keigo’s gaze, you melt into butter and slip out of your worries.

“Now tell me,” Keigo said, beginning to drag your panties down. You stay connected to them with a thin strand of your own slick. “What do little birdies taste like?”

This is wrong. You’ve just met this guy. He’s a complete stranger. You don’t know who he is or what kind of person he was in the old world. You don’t know whether or not he is the type of person to make you chicken soup when you’ve come down with a cold or let you borrow a cup of sugar when you’re short when making a recipe. In the old world you would have never fucked a stranger after only knowing them a few hours. It’s all so foreign to you.

But this isn’t the old world and the way that Keigo growls just at the sight of your sopping cunt has your eyes near rolling into the back of your skull.

Keigo has pulled your panties down to your ankles. He chucks them aside before taking you in. Your hair is sprawled out against the creaking mattress. He has barely touched you yet you look like you’re on ecstasy. He wastes no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders. He can’t help but feel prideful in the way you gasp at his rough movements.

You squirm underneath him as you feel Keigo drag the bridge of his nose across your opening to your delicate clit. The warmth of his tongue drags across and you let out a loud moan.

His fingers pinch your tender clit and you buck your hips forward against his soft lips. Keigo wastes no time in feasting on you. After all, you’ve proven to be quite the needy little dove.

Keigo prods and sucks at your clit. He sticks two of his fingers in and flicks them upward at a teasing pace. He chuckles at the sight of you thrashing and bucking your hips against him.

Every time you open your eyes to look at him, heat rises to your cheeks and you force yourself to look away.

He’s done this before. He knows his way around a pussy. From the way he dips his hot tongue into your slick walls and massages your clit with wet fingers, it isn’t long before the tethered cord within you snaps and you spray your juices against his fingers and against his face.

“Too much,” you said, placing a shaky hand on his bicep.

Keigo looks into your eyes. The darkened look he has shows that he could eat you without hesitation. He looks like he is ready to pounce. Instead, he takes the fingers covered in your juices and sticks them in his mouth. He runs his tongue between them and nearly sucks them dry.

You are still quivering below him, twitching from the lasting effects of your orgasm.

“Delicious,” he says, releasing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

Your heart rate begins to slow. You sit up, although your muscles have a slight ache as you do so.

“Are you ready?”

Your mellow eyes meet Keigo’s feral ones. In the time it had taken you to sit up, he had stripped away his pants leaving him in just his briefs. The prominent tent below is what catches your eye. His hard on is begging to be let free. You tenderly lift your hand up and rub over his clothed crotch. The deep inhale he takes followed by a low growl makes your insides melt.

Keigo pulls at the waistband of his briefs, letting his hardened cock spring free. He steps out of them and thrusts his pelvis towards your face. His shaft slaps against your cheek and you take his hint.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and pumps against it a few times. Your thumb smooths over the tip and tongue tentatively licks the drops of precum that leak out. It’s salty and the sweetness comes from seeing the way Keigo melts as soon as your tongue glides against his length.

“That’s a good little dove.” His fingers tangle in your hair and his hand pushes you forward, forcing you to take his length in your mouth.

You grip onto the back of his thighs to balance yourself. Heat rises to your cheeks as it dawns on you how intimate you are being with him. His hand pulls on your hair as your mouth works wonders on him. His balls slap against your chin and you can’t help but let out a moan, the vibrations from your mouth work their way to his core.

You cup his balls as you try and milk him for all he’s worth. You give them a gentle little squeeze and his knees buckle. He tightens the grip on your hair to catch himself from falling.

Before he can cum, he pulls out of your mouth. Droplets of your spit fall from your lips. A strand of saliva that still connects you to his dick breaks off.

Facing away from you, Keigo strokes himself a couple times. “Why don’t you lean back,” he suggests.

You follow his orders and lie down on the mattress. The springs dig into your shoulder blades once again but anticipation keeps you from fixating on it too much.

Keigo leans down and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He gives your tender pussy another lick before slapping his dick against your puffy clit.

As you let out a moan, he lines his cock up to your entrance and snaps his hips forward.

You grip onto his bicep as he thrusts himself in and out at a fast pace, faster than you’re used to. You suppose he couldn’t wait. His dick is long and his girth stretches you out in all the right ways.

You try and catch your breath but you can barely keep up with the way Keigo pounds into you.

“Is this good for you, dove,” Keigo asks. He hikes your other leg up and leans in, touching his forehead with yours.

You scream in pain and pleasure as he hits your mark perfectly with this new position.

Your nails cling onto his back and your mouth finds comfort on his shoulder as you bite into him.

He lets out a sharp bark, almost like a howl as your velvety walls contort around his dick in all the right ways.

Keigo wets his fingers and trails them down to your swollen clit. He presses against it which only causes you to let out a scream in ecstasy.

It’s not long before the pressure built within you snaps and you tighten even more around Keigo’s hardened cock, letting your juices spill around it.

Keigo continues to pump in and out of you until his own release. He pulls out and cums onto your chest. As you sit up, the warm mess rolls down your abdomen and spills out on the sleeping bag covered mattress.

Keigo hands you a small towel. “Here.”

As you wipe the ropes of cum off of your chest and stomach you can’t help but think of the old world. Before the end of society as you knew it you would have never fucked a stranger two hours after meeting them.

Keigo has pulled his pants back up but leaves his shirt off. You watch as he pokes at the dying fire, bringing the embers back to life. On his back, you can finally see the bit of red that caught your eye earlier. A tattoo. Two red wings coming out of his shoulder blades. Keigo is an interesting guy, one you want to know more about. The thought of getting to know him better makes you blush and the apples of your cheeks raise in a genuine smile, something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The fire illuminates Keigo and the soft smile he has melts your heart. Who knew that someone so cunning and snarky like himself could have such a sweet smile.

FrankNub drabble where Nubbins is a zombie!

My friends and I in a discord chat came up with this idea and I decided to write a little bit for it! More to come, but please enjoy!

Franklin Stitches up Nubbins

When everything went to shit and Hell rose up to greet everyone with a slap on the ass, Franklin was terrified. Beyond terrified. He had barely gotten around without the dead walking the damn earth. The first thing that he had noticed was the smell. Half rotten corpses walking through the south Texas heat made the whole area smell like an elephant’s sweaty backside. The radio stations had so many suggestions; get to high ground, hide, pray. Some even suggested buying weapons, as if every home-grown Texan didn’t already own at least one firearm or good hunting knife.

In Franklin’s case, he had had a van full of young adults and crystals. That was, until they attempted to ‘hide’ at his grandfather’s old home. The new neighbors weren’t quite as welcoming to the group as they had all thought. It was one thing when the dead were coming up to eat your face off. It was a whole other can of worms when it was a family of cannibalistic farmers… and a half zombie that wouldn’t stop trying to follow Franklin.

What happened within the next few days was pretty much a blur of blood, guts, and Franklin losing a good portion of his ‘friends’. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset. The wheelchair bound man may have had a handful of dead friends, but at least he had been taken in by the Sawyers with loving arms rather than hungry teeth. Franklin was sure they’d only done so because of the effect he had on Nubbins, who was probably the most conscious zombie in all of Texas. The rotten man had barely gotten out of Franklin’s lap the whole first official day of his stay with the Sawyers. The smell was just bearable enough if Franklin breathed through his mouth, but even then it took some getting used to.

What was a little harder to get used to was how careless Nubbins could be with his own body. He was constantly getting into messes and falling apart. The latest injury involved Bubba, a chainsaw, and a dare. Now, Franklin could handle clumsiness, but he wanted to scream when Bubba came in, carrying a laughing Nubbins in one arm, and his right leg in the other. The fool had gone and done it again. Seeing as Drayton was gone and Bubba’s hands were still shaking a bit too much, it was up to Franklin to stitch the giggling man back together.

This proved to be a difficult task. He’d had Bubba set Nubbins down on the dinner table so he could at least try to see what had happened, but Nubbins kept squirming around, cracking jokes, laughing, and doing anything in his power to make this the hardest task on earth. Franklin had only just gotten the fishing line through the needle when Nubbins nearly kicked it right out of his hand while going over the wild story of why his leg was detached in the first place.

“See, Chop said I-I-I couldn’t do it, but I s-sure showed him! Now he’s gotta- g-gotta do my chores all whee-week!” Nubbins burst into laughter again. Franklin was getting pretty annoyed. He had grown a soft spot for the lithe, disgusting man, against his own better judgement. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to tear his head off sometimes (metaphorically, of course, even if he could do it literally).

“Now, just hold still!” Franklin snapped, pushing down Nubbins nubbed leg with his whole weight, the severed limb sitting in his lap. “Just how am I s’posed to get this back on if you won’t stop movin’ around?” His voice came out as almost a whine. He’d had to quiet down some after yelling like he had, especially when he saw the sour, pouting expression on Nubbin’s face. That decaying grin came back after he heard the almost apologetic sound of Franklin’s tone, which filled Franklin with some degree of relief.

At least he’d stopped wiggling as much. This was still Nubbin’s, though, so Franklin had to lean on his lap to hold him down throughout the process. It made it far more difficult than it had to be, since now he just had one hand to both stitch and hold the leg in place. Every wiggle from the zombified man on the table threatened to throw the limb onto the floor, which would cause a different mess of problems. It was almost therapeutic, after the first few stitches, so long as he didn’t think about exactly what he was doing. The needle was sharp enough to slide through one half of Nubbin’s thigh and hook into the meat of the other without a problem. It didn’t take long for Franklin to get a slow, steady rhythm going. In and out, tug, in and out, tug… Before long, he was done. He’d had to catch himself from biting the fishing line off, instead grabbing the small pair of scissors they kept in the tackle box to snip the line. The job was messy to say the least. The stitches were uneven and Nubbin’s leg looked just a bit lopsided, but he would be able to walk on it all the same.

Franklin’s calloused fingers ran along the seam of the laceration. He told himself that it was to check the firmness of the stitches, but it was his morbid fascination with the other man. How could someone already dead heal the way he did? And how did he manage to keep relatively sane after getting bit? And how did-

His thoughts were cut short when he felt two thin hands caressing his curled hair. A little nose resting on his scalp. Franklin froze. It was still a mystery to him just how to react to this kind of affection. He’d hardly gotten this kind of thing from a girl, let alone a man.

“You smell clean.” Nubbins said, moving back with a wide, cracked lip grin before he hopped off the table, testing out his re-stitched leg. The wobble in his walk worried Franklin, but those thoughts were short-lived when once again, he had a lap full of the skinny, stinking man. An arm wrapped around the back of his neck and his face was assaulted with kisses, and maybe the occasional lick. No one said Nubbins exactly knew how to give affection either. That was okay. In death and in life, these two would surely figure it all out in their own twisted way.

Through Thick and Thin

Hey yall!  Heard about @shipmistress9‘s Hiccstrid week 2020 celebration, and I wanted to take part in it.  I’m writing up a few things I hope will be done in the next couple days, buuuut I had this rather fluffy commission laying about involving a set up I haven’t seen played around with much in the fandom.  

I will note that this is not my work, and that the author is fine with this being released, but wishes to remain anonymous.  I hope yall like it as much as I did! 

Hiccup meandered along the street, heading nowhere in particular but feeling the need to get out of the house. Typical, his first proper day off work in weeks and he'd woken up too damn early, and then got bored trying to stay indoors and relax. Still, at least it was a nice day out, sun shining but just enough breeze to stop it being sweaty and stifling.

He was just debating heading to the shop for nothing in particular other than a distraction from boredom, when a big shadow fell across his path.

"Hiccup Haddock, is that you?"

Confused, Hiccup looked up from the ground to the source of the voice. His eyes found a very curvy lady, with round cheeks and thick thighs and a soft, round belly resting beneath an ample chest. Realising he was probably staring a bit too low, he lifted his eyes up to her face.

There was something familiar in the blonde hair, the round freckled cheeks and blue eyes...

"Astrid?!"

She'd been his best friend when they were kids, spending endless hours together talking about dragons. Astrid used to chase him with an axe if he bugged her, but it always ended in forgiving cuddles and childish giggles. Then her parents had a very, very messy divorce, and Astrid was whisked away to live with her grandmother to keep her out of it. They'd meant to stay in touch, but they were only kids and it wasn't easy. He lost her grandmothers address when his own parents split, the bit of paper with it written down obviously stolen by mountain trolls when packing up to move out.

Of course, Astrid had been a lanky, skinny child back then, shooting up in height before most of their classmates and charging around so much she obviously burned off a lot of energy.

Now, lanky and skinny were definitely not words he could use to describe her. She seemed to follow his thoughts despite him not voicing them, reaching up to pat her big belly with a laugh. Her smile hadn't changed, completely and utterly her.

"Yeah, I gained quite a few pounds over the years. Grandma's cooking and a lot of lazy food in college, yanno?"

He shrugged, smiling, awash with fond nostalgia for his oldest friend.

"No, no, you look great. It's so good to see you!"

They hugged, her body soft against his but the strength she held him with was surprising, reminding him of how she could easily crush him when they were kids with her super-strength.

"Great to see you too. I barely recognised you, you actually learned to do your hair. And you're so tall!"

"Yeah, puberty hit me like a ton of bricks, as I've been told. And I had to learn to do my hair, else I get awful helmet hair when I'm out on my bike."

"Finally got your wheels?"

She obviously remembered him fawning over motorcycles in his dads mechanic-themed magazines as a kid, always insisting he'd be riding one as soon as possible.

"Yep! So... what are you doing here? Are you around for long? Want to go somewhere and catch up?"

He realised he was talking kind of quickly, still buzzing with the pleasant surprise of seeing her again. Astrid nodded, beaming.

"Sounds good!"

As they walked, Astrid informed him she'd just moved back to the area when her job got transferred there.

"What do you do?"

"Just some machine assembly work. Not exciting, but pays the bills and it fit around classes when I was at uni. And, to everyones surprise, I'm not phased by trudging around on my feet all day on the factory floor. What about you?"

"Garage, obviously. Up to my elbows in grease and metal all day every day."

Astrid smiled.

"You must be thrilled!"

Hiccup nodded, grinning.

"Yeah. So, where are we going again?"

"Little place I like. Good food and sturdy furniture."

She wasn't kidding - Hiccup didn't actually fill the chair, and it definitely felt strong under him as he perched, watching Astrid scour the menu and exchanging friendly greetings with the staff.

"You brought a date! Sarah, come see this!"

"He's not my date, you mad woman. Just a friend. Hiccup, please ignore her."

Feeling his cheeks flush slightly, he laughed it off.

"Oooh, with a smile like that he'll be snapped up if you won't have him Astrid!"

Blinking in surprise, Hiccup watched as Astrid shooed off the waitress with demands for chocolate milkshake while they looked at the food options.

"Sorry. They're a little too friendly sometimes. I think I keep them afloat with how much I eat here."

She giggled as she said it, humming before smiling over the top of the little paper foldout at Hiccup. He smiled back.

"It's fine. So, what's good here then, if you know them so well?"

"Oh, everything. But if I remember rightly, you like your food meaty, so I'd go with the steak burger. And if you ask nicely, they put a scoop of ice cream in your milkshake."

Trusting Astrid's judgement - and it did sound delicious - Hiccup ordered what she recommended, and was very pleased by how tasty it was. Astrid had the same, plus some kind of cheese-fries mountain on the side. They chatted between bites, catching up on all the years gone by since they lost touch, whiling away well over an hour there before Astrid frowned at her phone, then looked up at him.

"Sorry, I gotta go, work needs me in. We should do this again soon, now I'm back down here."

"Yeah, sounds great."

They traded numbers, paid and tipped the servers and hugged goodbye outside. Hiccup found himself smiling, warmed and happy about Astrid being back in his life already. He continued on to the shop, pleasantly full of food as he pottered about the aisles, picking up a few things and heading home afterwards.

Astrid texted him that evening when she got off work, and the two quickly compared schedules so they could hang out again soon by phone call.

"If you tell me what you like eating, I'll cook you dinner one of the days."

Hiccup offered, hearing the smile in her voice when he offered.

"Ah, you already know the way to my heart!"

"Well, you said you ate a lot of 'lazy food', I thought home cooked might be a nice change for you."

"Hey, I'm not complaining!"

After forgetting to give her his address on the phone and hastily texting it to her the next day, Hiccup got to planning and prepping, ready to cook. Her hearty appetite was a bonus to him - he loved cooking, and was pretty used to cooking for his dad and uncle Gobber, so big portions came rather naturally. When he visited his mom, she often reminded him neither of them could put away as much food, and there were always leftovers.

He opened the door at her punctual knock, Astrid beaming as she stood in his doorway.

"Come on in."

"Ooooh, your place smells amazing!"

"That'll be dinner. Unless it's me. I did shower today."

She snorted, shaking her head at his feigned bragging.

"Oh, you haven't changed."

It was like no time at all had passed, the two reconnecting easily, having each other in fits of laughter. Astrid still shoved him playfully, though it had a bit more force to it now than when they were kids. They reminisced over childhood TV favourites, and got a little tipsy on the wine Astrid brought over to accompany dinner.

"Ah, I missed you so much!"

Astrid threw her thick arm around him, squeezing Hiccup to her side. Chuckling, he hugged her back.

"I missed you too!"

He offered to let Astrid stay the night (platonically!), but she declined and so he saw her in to a taxi that evening after plates were clean and they'd arranged another meet-up. She pecked a kiss on his cheek with a smile before climbing in to the car, Hiccup watching her go and feeling genuinely sad to see her go. Their friendship had awakened effortlessly, and there were years to catch up on.

It was a couple of days before they got to see each other again, but they chatted over the phone and put on the same terrible TV shows so they could rag on them together, which Hiccup found absolutely hilarious.

At first, Astrid's weight gain didn't really... come up. She was still Astrid. There was just... more Astrid.

But when they were both off work and the weather was nice, Hiccup suggested a picnic. Others obviously had the same idea, so there were quite a few people out in the field. Hiccup put an old throw down for them to sit on, Astrid joking she'd need help getting back up as she sat down, mid-thigh shorts straining slightly as she got comfortable.

Some rude passerby made a rude comment about her size, and Hiccup found himself incredibly annoyed. Astrid barely seemed to notice, at least until she looked up with a glare that could curdle milk.

"I can lose weight. You'll always be an asshole, and I don't remember asking for your opinion. Now go away."

The guy recoiled, then looked over at Hiccup. Hiccup was, incidentally, holding a knife. It was for cheese, but it seemed to look threatening enough that the rude stranger decided not to continue digging themselves into a hole and left.

"Are you ok?"

"Me? I'm fine. It happens, and hey, they can go home to a salad while I have a heaping pile of lasagna. Guess which of us is happier for dinner?"

She was smiling, but Hiccup still shuffled over and gave her a hug. Astrid let him, then nudged him and nodded at his bag.

"Food?"

"Sure."

They ate and chatted and lounged in the sun, Astrid looking pretty and at ease as she laid back on the throw and closed her eyes, soaking up the sunshine that hit her skin. After a little while, she cracked an eye open, peering up at him.

"Are you watching me?"

"Not intentionally. I'm debating if it's too bright to get my sketchpad out, and your top is white so it's a good point of reference."

She rolled her eyes, then went back to sunbathing. Hiccup did get the sketchpad out, doodling the nearby scenery - there was a river a little ways away, with some rocks and trees littering the banks.

"You were always scribbling when we were little too."

"I like drawing. It was something me and mom did together a lot, so I guess it's a lot of happy memories. Oh, by the way, mom wants to see you soon!"

"She does?"

Hiccup nodded.

"Yeah. I mentioned you'd moved back down this way and she was thrilled, asked when I was bringing you over."

Astrid smiled.

"I did always like Valka. How is she doing?"

"See for yourself, next time you're free I can invite her over to come for dinner?"

For a minute, Astrid looked oddly... nervous.

"Is that wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is she gonna go all 'should you be eating that' or sly digs about my weight?"

Hiccup raised an eyebrow, bemused.

"You do remember the size of my dad, right? Mom's not gonna care in the slightest. She'll probably laugh and say I found someone who's appetite matches my cooking portions."

Finally, Astrid smiled again. Eventually, they agreed to go, and Hiccup managed to help Astrid back to her feet, taking a leisurely walk along the path to get out of the park before school let out and the place was flooded with children itching for freedom.

The only flaw in the walk was the rather aggressive wasp that chased Hiccup, but he managed to lose it eventually while Astrid very unhelpfully roared with laughter.

"I think he liked you."

"I think he wanted the leftover juice in my bag."

Feeling that usual contentment that spending time with Astrid gave him, Hiccup was sad to see her go, but she did agree to the dinner with his mom. Hiccup relayed that information to Valka, who was thrilled and giddy about it. He did give her advance information that there was quite a bit more of Astrid than before, so that she was prepared and wouldn't make Astrid feel uncomfortable. His mother, as Hiccup predicted, was not phased in the slightest.

Valka arrived first, hugging Hiccup tightly and ruffling his hair as she asked about the minute amount of things that had happened since they last saw each other and he shooed her away from the kitchen side.

"You're a hazard!"

She tsked, then leapt excitedly when the door knocked again.

"Astrid!"

"Oh my gods, Valka! I swear, you haven't aged a day!"

Well, those two were getting on like a house on fire in seconds, Hiccup smiling to himself all the while as Astrid headed over to hug him in greeting. She looked very nice that day - not that she didn't always, really - in a brown skirt and blue shirt, placing a bottle of wine to contribute to dinner on the side before she went back to chatting with Hiccup's mother.

The evening went absolutely wonderfully, conversation flowing easily. Of course, his mother did her best to fill Astrid in on all the embarrassing moments that happened while she was away, Hiccup's awkward teen years out in the open and Astrid fell about laughing while Hiccup pouted. He couldn't stay mad about how happy the atmosphere was though, and after walking Astrid down to her taxi, he returned to his mother who was loading the dishwasher for him (one of his little weaknesses, because he cooked so much).

"Did you have fun tonight mom?"

"It was wonderful! And I'm so happy you two reconnected, that you've found someone t-"

Wait, wait. Hiccup realised his mother had gotten the wrong idea somewhere along the lines.

"Whoa, mom. Slow down. It's not like that."

She stopped, blinking.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, Astrid's great and it's amazing having her around again, but we're just friends."

Somehow, she did not look convinced.

"Really?"

"What do you mean, really?"

His mother shrugged, knowing look on her face as she checked the side and closed the dishwasher.

"Nothing, nothing. I just... you seem very cosy, that's all. And I see the way you smile at her. I just thought you seemed rather smitten."

Now it was Hiccup's turn to blink, confused.

"I... what? No. I'm not smitten."

"If you say so son. I should get going, I have work tomorrow."

She hugged her son and kissed his hair, all while Hiccup was still sorting through his thoughts somewhat. He hadn't really thought about whether or not he was attracted to Astrid. She was Astrid. They were childhood best friends, and he'd assumed they'd just reverted to the same sort of relationship now. Simple, right?

And his mother thought they were actually dating. So... did that mean Astrid was giving off some kind of signal only moms could notice too?

No, that was ridiculous...

Right?

He scrubbed a hand across his face, drained the last bit of wine into a glass rather than bother storing what was barely a single serving. Then he sat down on the sofa and sighed, sipping slowly at the wine and absently picking at leftover dessert.

Hiccup was no closer to clarity the next day, a mild headache from either the wine or the constant thinking nagging him when he woke up. A couple of painkillers washed down with his morning coffee took that away though, leaving him to text Astrid and invite her over for movie night sometime soon. Plenty confused by his mothers words, Hiccup figured the best chance of clearing it all up in his head was to actually talk to Astrid.

They sat on his bed, a huge bowl of popcorn between them, and pizza delivery called for and due thirty minutes from then. Hiccup fiddled with a few bits of popcorn until they were crumbs, knowing he'd regret it later when he had to get all the crumbs out of his bed.

"Want to hear something funny?"

Astrid glanced over, raising popcorn to her mouth.

"Sure?"

Hiccup drank some water for his suddenly dry mouth.

"My mom thought I was introducing you to her as my girlfriend."

He watched for her response. Astrid crunched her popcorn a little more slowly, using her drink to clear the remnants from her mouth before she answered.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Started gushing about how happy she was I'd 'found someone'."

Astrid tsked, rolling her eyes.

"Like that's ever gonna happen."

Hiccup, still unsure until just then, realised he was disappointed by her dismissal.

"Wow, you are really rough on my ego."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"I didn't mean cus of anything about you! I just meant... come on, it's not like you're gonna be interested in me like that."

Hiccup frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave him an exasperated look.

"It means... I'm fine with how I look and all that, I could change it but yanno, I'm healthy enough and I can move around. But it's not... pretty."

Hiccup shook his head.

"That's really what you think?"

Astrid nodded, gave a non-commital shrug.

"It's the truth."

She reached for more popcorn. Hiccup moved the bowl, placing it aside so he could kneel up next to her without sending the kernels cascading everywhere. Astrid frowned.

"What?"

"I just... I don't like you putting yourself down. And... well... I think you're beautiful."

Astrid, normally so forward and confident, dropped her gaze from his, freckled cheeks flushing.

"Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious!"

She turned back to look at him, expression unreadable.

Then she kissed him.

Hiccup wasn't expecting it, but it didn't take much time for his brain to catch up and respond in kind. They found themselves horizontal sooner rather than later, hands roaming and touching exploring over clothes. There was so much of Astrid to feel, after all, thick thighs he squeezed at gently, enthralled by the way Astrid gasped against his mouth.

She was soft and pliant everywhere his hands landed, from her plush hips to her juicy backside. Her hands made short work of him, sliding under his shirt to roam his bare skin beneath. Hiccup felt himself harden against her stomach, prominent and soft and warm as it pressed against him. He kept his own hands above clothes for the moment, though he let his hands roam a little over her chest, pleased when he was not rebuffed.

Surprising even himself a little bit, Hiccup let his hands wander down to her belly, rather transfixed by it now he had the free reign to be. He rubbed it, felt Astrid tense up slightly at his touch.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just... big."

"So?"

Hiccup continued to rub her belly, fingers finding bare skin where her shirt had rucked up with their squirming on his bed. There were bumps and ripples of stretch marks that he couldn't quite resist tracing, Astrid letting out a sound halfway to a giggle. He wriggled down, wanting Astrid to feel reassured, safe, desirable. Kisses dropped over the soft bump of her belly, and she actually giggled at the tickling of his hair when Hiccup wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her tummy properly.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving to you that you have nothing to worry about. Plus... I like it."

"Seriously?"

He nodded, smiling when Astrid relaxed. She urged him back up, but their kisses grew a little lazier, more relaxed when he moved, hands staying above the waist. Astrid played idly with his hair, which he found sweet enough that he smiled in to their kiss, Astrid returning it before they both dissolved in to giggles, breaking apart to catch their breath.

The timing was good, as the door knocked just then to announce the arrival of their pizza.

"Back in a minute. You want a plate or shall we eat out the box?"

"Well, there's fries and garlic bread too, so yeah, plates might be a good idea."

Hiccup nodded, pecking a kiss on Astrid's lips that brought another adorable smile to her face before he climbed off the bed reluctantly, exchanging money for tasty food. The delivery guy definitely gave Hiccup a "no way you'll eat all this" look, not matching the volume of food to Hiccup's narrow frame.

Stacking plates on the top of the pizza box, Hiccup headed back to where Astrid awaited him, cheeks still pink, eyes bright, clothes rumpled and he felt a little breathless for how gorgeous she really was.

"Can I interest you in dinner, milady?"

"Absolutely. Although, garlic bread seemed a better idea before there was kissing."

He chuckled.

"We'll both have bad breath. Alternatively, I have a spare toothbrush you can use."

They plated up, and after a little adjusting, Astrid leant herself against Hiccup with a soft sigh. He could only eat one handed, but that was a small price to pay. He rather liked the weight of her there. Astrid was harder to convince, eventually suggesting they swap places. Perching himself on her lap did have it's perks, like the feel of her soft thighs under him, her round belly against him, and he could feed her until she let out the sweetest little giggles.

"So..." Hiccup dared to venture the question when they'd finished eating, having lost all track of whatever film he'd put on earlier "what is this? What are we?"

Astrid hummed, wrapping a thick arm around him and Hiccup thrilled in the reassuring grip.

"Well... much as you will surely hate to admit it, I'd say you can tell your mom she was right after all."

As she kissed him again, both paying no mind to garlic breath, Hiccup found the prospect of having to tell his mother that wasn't so bad, since it meant Astrid was now his girlfriend.

Who Can Hold Out Longer

Pairing: John Murphy x OC 

Prompt/summary: Murphy and OC are in a fight, both too prideful to go and apologize, and giving each other the silent treatment. The only question remaining: who can hold out longer? 

Word count: 2142

Warnings/contents: Slight angst, a mention of suicide, slight fluff? Honestly not much, but it has a happy ending, cursing 

Notes: None, just enjoy! 

Three days. It had been three days since she’d spoken to Murphy. Both of them were extremely prideful; to be honest, Lilith didn’t even know what they were fighting about, and neither did Murphy. It was tiring, everyone around them was on edge. It felt as if any moment the two were going to blow up, but it never happened. They were truly ignoring each other. 

Lilith had been with Monty a lot, helping him with the communication line from the bracelets, and seeing them together made Murphy's blood boil; but he stayed quiet. Lilith always won the silent treatment game, but not this time. He wasn't going to bend, she was. He was sure of himself this time. 

He slept outside, kept watch, did anything to distract himself. He stayed away from her and whenever she was in view he refused to look at her; he knew if he looked at her he'd give in. He missed her. Three days was the longest they'd gone without talking since they'd met. she was always pestering him and vice versa. All day every day. He missed her jokes, her touch, her kisses. 

Murphy was getting more and more bitter as the days went by, making him even more unbearable than normal. 

Clarke had basically begged Lilith to make up with him, just to swallow her pride and apologize, but just as she was more stubborn than Murphy she was more stubborn than Clarke. She'd been with Bellamy on hunts, but if Murphy was mentioned she'd dare to go off alone, so Bellamy learned to keep his mouth shut in fear of her getting harmed or even killed out there alone. 

The first night everything was tense as Murphy slept outside, leaned against a tree and waking up to go on watch for the rest of the night. The second night he was more tired than ever before, not getting any sleep and staying up most the previous night; he did the same again this night, but he didn't sleep against the tree, he stayed awake all night. Last night, the third night, he'd fallen asleep on the dirt on watch with someone else and woke up less than 15 minutes later, unable to sleep again from a nightmare. 

Whenever he had a nightmare he had her beside him; she was there for him to hold him, curling up in her arms and feeling her hands run through his hair, her soft voice soothing him back to sleep. She was the only one he allowed to see this side of him. God, how he missed her. 

He went back to camp, stumbling as he walked from the lack of sleep. Everyone took their glance at the dark circles underneath his eyes, how messy his hair was and how dirty his face was. He didn't care though. He didn't care about anything right now. 

Lilith was working, doing some heavy lifting as she always did; she wore a dirty black tank top, smeared with dirt and torn in small places across her stomach and tattered at the bottom, though it clung to her sweaty form. She wore jeans that hung loosely on her hips and combat boots which secretly held a knife. The pocket in her pants held another knife and she kept ahold of the empty gun Bellamy had upon going to Earth to threaten anyone with the illusion of bullets. No one dared correct her. 

Her thin arms were muscular-- she'd always been stronger than he'd imagined she'd be. She was helping build the wall, dropping wood for the others at their posts and hammering the nails into the thick wood. 

Murphy's eyes lingered on her as she worked; she'd felt eyes on her and looked at the boy. It'd be lying to say her heart didn't clench at his saddened, dirty face. He was zoned out, not even noticing as her eyebrows furrowed downwards as she watched him for a moment too long. 

Lilith forced her eyes away and gave a defeated sigh underneath her breath. Bellamy crossed his arms and looked at her as he stopped by her, seeing as he'd seen the entire thing go down. 

"Lilith, for the love of god, just go talk to him." Bellamy huffed. "He misses you." 

"He started it." She'd grumbled, earning an eye roll from Bellamy. 

"You're both children," he grumbled, stalking off towards his tent with Octavia following in tow. 

In truth Lilith missed Murphy just as much as he missed her, she just wouldn't admit it. Murphy was playing her game better than she played it, and it was hurting both of them. Their fights never lasted more than a day. One more night without Murphy wouldn't kill her, but it was hurting more and more every night she'd rolled over and found nothing but darkness rather than Murphy, sleeping peacefully for her to curl up against. 

But pride was a hell of a thing. 

Lilith had gone on a hunt with Bellamy and Finn, bringing back some food near nightfall. They'd ran into Grounders and got a little beat up; Bellamy made Lilith go to Clarke for the wound on her arm. 

Lilith walked in the tent without warning, seeing Clarke sorting through some items and Octavia talking to her. 

"Hey, you guys are-- holy shit, are you okay?" Octavia jumped up, running the small distance and looking at her arm. Lilith gave a wince when Octavia roughly grabbed her arm to inspect it and forced her arm away from her. 

"I'm fine. Just a little flesh wound." 

"That looks serious," Clarke frowned when Lilith walked over to her. "Take your shirt off so I can see it better." Lilith took off her thin long sleeve shirt, leaving her in a tank top and bra, and tossed it aside while Clarke made her sit down. 

"It's not that bad." Lilith insisted as Clarke told Octavia to go get water. "I've had worse wounds." 

"It can still get infected." 

"Well then it'll get infected." 

"You can't be so careless with your safety, Lilith." Clarke told her. 

"It doesn't matter." Lilith whispered as Octavia came rushing back in with water for Clarke. 

"What doesn't matter?" 

"Me being reckless. I've always been this way, and it doesn't matter to anyone." 

"Are you sure? To anyone?" Clarke raised a knowing eyebrow Lilith rolled her eyes. 

"What are you, my fuckin' therapist?" She grumbled, staying as stoic as she could as Clarke began to clean the wound on her arm and find bandages for it. 

"Why won't you just talk to him?" Octavia butted in, sitting beside Lilith. "He stares at you all day. He obviously misses you." 

"Then he'd talk to me." 

"Are you serious?" Octavia frowned. 

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Lilith asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I just didn't realize it was possible to be so cold towards someone you love." Octavia said. 

"Talk to Murphy about that. He started it." Lilith rolled her eyes. 

"He starts everything, but you have to be the one to calm him down; he's insane lately." Clarke intervened. 

"Not my problem." 

"Last I checked he was your boyfriend." 

"My boyfriend who hasn't spoken to me in three days." 

"Maybe he feels the same about you." Clarke offered. 

"Seriously, Griffin, you're a doctor not a therapist." 

"I want to help you." She pressed. 

"Well I don't want your help. I'm doing just fine on my own." Lilith bitterly replied. 

"I can see." Clarke sarcastically replied. 

"'Tis but a flesh wound." Lilith hummed carelessly as Clarke finished up on her arm. 

"One day we're all gonna die. Is this how you want to remember your life?" Octavia asked softly. Lilith hesitated before standing up and grabbing her shirt. 

"Thanks, Clarke. But this isn't your business, and it isn't your either," she shot a look at Octavia. Lilith walked out, not bothering to put her shirt back on. Her arm ached but she refused to show it as she neared Bellamy, tying the shirt around her waist and crossing her arms as she stopped. 

"All patched up?" Bellamy asked, looking at her arm. 

"Obviously," she held back an eye roll, which Bellamy took instead as he held out a makeshift spear to her. 

"Good, because you're on watch." 

"Don't you think she should... I don't know, rest before she goes out there again?" Finn asked. 

"I'm fine--" "She's fine." Bellamy and Lilith both replied at the same time. 

"See? Fine." Lilith took the spear and left, stalking out into the woods at the post she always took and stuck the spear into the ground, leaning against the tree by her and crossing her arms. A sigh left her lips as she was finally alone, and when she was alone she didn't have to hold up her façade anymore. 

Her body slid down the rough bark, scratching her shoulders as she sat down, sadly looking out into the deep, dark woods. The distant shouts of people echoed from the bonfire they made to cook the meat they'd gotten on their hunt. 

The wound on her arm stung, but she chose to ignore it. There was no psychical pain that matched the emotional state she was in; constantly on the verge of a breakdown, all alone again as it was before on the Ark, depressed, suicidal, cold. At this moment all she wanted was Murphy. To put his arm around her and comfort her as he always had, press a kiss to her temple and remind her everything was going to be okay. 

But without Murphy it wasn't going to be okay. 

Time seemed to go fast as the uneventful night passed. The close crunch of leaves snapped her out of her trance as she stood quickly and looked over, only to see Finn walking over; he held his hands up. 

"I come in peace." He joked. "Just here to replace you." Lilith left the spear, beginning to pass by the male without a word. "Lilith," Finn rushed, making her turn her head to look at him. "Are you... are you okay?" He asked softly. A shrug came in return, as she didn't know what to say; she felt as if her voice didn't work anymore, and not because she hadn't spoken since hours ago. "I know you won't believe me, but he's been sulking around all night, too. He's not even pestering anyone anymore, Lilith. You're hardly even speaking and I haven't heard as many sarcastic responses from you in awhile." 

"I don't know what you mean, Finn." Lilith spoke, her voice was dull and dead. Her face didn't hold any emotion either as she started to walk away. Finn gave a sigh and leaned against the tree, watching after her as her figure disappeared into the darkness towards camp. 

There were only a few people still awake in camp, walking about and warming up by the fire. They moved out of Lilith's way as she walked, her eyes trained on the ground. The only time she glanced aside was to look where Murphy slept now. But he wasn't leaned against the tree he always slept by. Her eyes were heavy as she walked into her tent, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Murphy, shirtless. 

He turned upon hearing the tent open, and stumbled back a couple steps. He put his shirt on quickly and stared at her; there weren't any words exchanged, but he didn't miss the pained look on her face as she turned away and avoided him. 

"Is your arm alright?" Murphy finally broke the three day silence. Lilith looked at him, hot tears welled up in her eyes as she ignored his question and instead walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his shoulder. Murphy was shocked, but he was quick to wrap his arms around her tightly in return and hug her like she was going to disappear. 

"I'm sorry." Lilith whispered against him. 

"Me too." Murphy whispered, 

"I didn't want it to go on this long." Lilith sniffled. "But I'm a bitch." 

"If we're doing that then, to be fair, I'm an asshole. I should have talked to you days ago, but I was too stubborn." 

"You're talking to me," Lilith finally looked up at him, laughing slightly. "I'm the most stubborn person in this place." A small smile graced Murphy's lips as he gently brushed her hair away from her eyes. 

"I wouldn't want you any other way." Lilith leaned up and pushed her lips against Murphy's. He kissed her back immediately, holding her as close as he could. 

Needless to say, everything returned back to normal the next day, and Bellamy and Clarke couldn't be more glad that the two were back together; even if they were annoying together, they were worse apart. 

Hello. I know you have pending requests so don't worry if it takes time. I'd like a nsfw scenario about Prosciutto having a rival from an enemy gang. However, whenever they cross paths they never kill each other and instead end up together in bed. Prosciutto likes it but is still all flustered because 1. He's supposed to be straight, 2. He's usually the one in control but not with this man, and 3. He's an enemy! Feel free to decline this request if it makes you uncomfortable.

Ehiii, hello! I’m sorry if this required FOREVER, I’m a mess oof-

Anyway, here we are! I, like, played a bit around your indications, in order to build a sort of mini plot, and maybe it’s not as NSFW as you wanted, but I hope it meets anyway your expectations! Please let me know! Since it was also my first scenario with a male s/o, I hope not to have screwed up!

Prosciutto ending in bed with a member of a rival gang

(Under the cut for a NSFW part!)

You knew you were strong and determined, or you would never be part of Passione’s first rival gang nor have a stand. You fought many enemies, always victorious, nearer and nearer to a prestigious position in the gang élite.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you to the man you had to face that fatal day. You had heard about the infamous Squadra di Esecuzione, a team of élite hitmen who responded just to Passione’s boss’ direct orders. Their names were whispered with fear and dread; when it was known that they were on hunt the streets emptied in seconds. Having one of them on your tail was a certain death sentence.

You stumbled back, when you recognized your opponent as, in fact, one of the Squadra. His blond hair were tightly tied in little manbuns and he was fancy dressed, as he had to go to dine in an elegant restaurant and not to spread death. His eyes, however, revealed who he really was: they were icy, focused, professional. Murder, for him, was an ordinary job. And the corpse at his feet was the practical demonstration of this.

“Unlucky day, eh?” he said, snapping you back from your frozen state. You frowned, calling your stand out in the same moment of him.

“If you think it’ll be easy to beat me, you’re damn wrong.” you retorted, lifting your chin. A sly smile spread on his lips and a gleam of amused interest sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s see, then.” he invited, almost politely, before the two of you started to fight. Thanks to your stand, The Grateful Dead’s effects were minimum on you and, at the same time, your one was almost ineffective on his: you were equal.

You could see he was well versed also in physical combat: his movements were precise and strong. His knife managed to almost stab you more times and you saved yourself just thanks to your reflexes. No, you weren’t equal, you understood: he was on another level. Your body grew tired sooner than his. You thought it was the end, but, at least, it would have been a honorable death.

Suddenly, the sharp cry of sirens startled you both. He cursed under his breath, immediately sending The Grateful Dead on the corpse. Under you horrified eyes, it aged up in seconds  and became bones and dry skin, and soon it was just dust.

“It doesn’t end here.” he threatened, before disappearing in the dark alley. You did the same, right before the police’s arrival. your heart raced like crazy. You just escaped death, you fought one of the Squadra Esecuzioni and you were alive… you needed a drink.

So, you headed to the only pub which accepted criminals like you: the “Torre Storta” was a neutral territory where was absolutely forbidden to engage fights between rival gangs.

You entered, with a sigh that almost choked you when your eyes catched a certain blond man sat alone. His hair were now a little messy, nonetheless his look was still appealing. He saw you as well and he grinned, waving his hand to call you. You approached his table, still shocked, and sat in front of him, without a word.

“You fought really well, before. Rarely I met someone capable of fighting me so long or to resist my stand’s ability. Let me offer you a drink, as sign of my appreciation.” he said, making you shiver. He was the enemy, yes, but the pub was neutral… so it was ok to accept a drink from him, no?

You nodded and the man -Prosciutto, you remembered from the whispered and broken descriptions in the streets- waved at the barista, ordering two drinks. When they arrived, he raised his glass at you.

“To a worthy rival.” he declared, hitting with a light cling your glass with his. After fre sips of the strong liquor, you finally loosened up a little and started to actively talk to him. you found that he was a charming and smart man, when he wasn’t trying to kill you. He laughed, when you said so, revealing an adorable tooth gap on his front teeth.

You talked and talked, nursing more than one drink, exchanging stories like old friends, undoubtedly helped by the alcohol that burned in your veins. You bid goodbye to each other just when the first rays of sun lighted Naples’ sea, going back to your dark world where you were enemies.

Little you know that Prosciutto, as much as you were thinking about him, was thinking about you too. For the first time in his life, he was happy he hadn’t killed a witness. You were… well, you were something. He didn’t know what, but you were something special.

Something that also became his weakness. He found himself unable to even fight you, when you hit in each other during work. He found unbearable the thought of wounding you, of your dead body. He always found ways to escape fights that involved you and, even, to subtly protect you, when he was on mission with one of his teammates.

After every fight, you both found yourselves at the “Torre Storta”. You tried to act like friends, like nothing was happened, like you, again, hadn’t escaped death almost miraculously, but his strong grip on your shoulder or hand, how his eyes worriedly ran on your face and body, searching for wounds or purple splotches, said clearly that he was worried as hell and that, well, he cared about you. A lot.

He started to doubt his feelings for you after his first wet dream that involved you. He woke up, panting and sweaty, still trembling for the excitement he felt in the dream. He had to relieve himself and he didn’t sleep more, too busy to think about that dream.

It wasn’t anything, he tried to say to himself. A dream meant nothing. You were his friend, just a friend. He was straight, for god’s sake! He was so… right?

The second and the third dream with you crumbled his conviction.

He wasn’t straight, at least not entirely. Maybe bisexual, but surely not straight. This, however, tormented him. How should he act, now? It was all so new and he was, frankly, a bit scared. It was a huge change and he didn’t know hot to handle it.

He also didn’t know how to handle his crush on you.

Should he keep it a secret? Maybe he was just overreacting to a deep friendship? What if you were straight and he just made a fool of himself on front of you?

The doubt was devouring him, so he did the only thing he found bearable: drowning it all in alcohol. A drink or two would have helped to loose a bit his nerves.

Soon, the drinks became three. He felt a bit dizzy, but definitely calmer and loosened up. It was enough…

“What are you doing here all alone, Pro? You could have called me!” he jolted, hearing your voice and feeling your touch on his shoulder. Oh no…

Another drink found his hand, as you sat near him. Prosciutto chewed his cheek, nervous. Now that he had really explicit wet dreams about you, it was hard to watch you in the eyes without desiring to pin you on the wall and ravishing that pretty mouth of yours, to mark your exposed neck and pecs, to go down, down, to taste your length-

He shook his head, trying to drive away those thoughts. For god’s sake, was he really so full of lust?!

“Pro? Are you sure to feel good?” you asked, a bit worried, patting his hand. He was fast to grab it, softly caressing your fingers with his thumb, lost in his thoughts.

“You were always a source of troubles.” he murmured, a bit slurry. “First the police, then a drink, then friendship… I was known as a merciless assassin, you know. Before meeting you.” he rambled, with a deep sigh. You stayed in silence, lightly tightening the grip on his hand.

“But then… you made me doubt about myself. About all I am, about all I was… I’m lost, now.” he admitted, drinking in a gulp his drink. You felt a pang of guilt hit your guts at his slurred words.

“Pro, really, I’m sor-”

“I think I fell in love with you.” his words froze you on spot. He… what?

“Is it you talking or the alcohol?” you quietly asked, still not daring to believe, to hope that it was all true. He sighed, finally watching your eyes. Even if a bit dazed, they were sincere.

“It’s me.” you felt your heart race at his words. You couldn’t believe it was all true, you surely must have been dreaming…

“I’m sorry if I bothered you, I… god, it’s so stupid…” he rambled, getting up, with a frown. You reached for him when he was already out of the pub, grasping his shoulder.

“I fell for you too.” you said, breathless, making him stop. You…?

“I don’t know what to do.” he admitted, quietly. You smiled the big smile he liked so much and took his hand on yours, firmly.

“We could go at my place and talk a bit.” you proposed, meeting his nod. You managed to restrain yourselves almost ‘till your home, but he had, he had to kiss you, to finally taste your lips and tongue, to hold you like he did in his dreams…

You let yourself lose in the kiss for few second of bliss, before imposing yourself, assaulting his tongue, winning, ravishing his mouth. he whimpered in your mouth, feeling himself melting at the sensation of being controlled in such a sweet and delicious way…

“A bit more of patience, Pro.” you murmured, biting his full bottom lip, tearing a raspy moan from him, and leading him to your flat. You had just closed the door when his lips were on you again, kissing, biting your jaw and neck, savouring your skin.

You breathy chuckled, sinking your hands in his hair and undoing his cute manbuns, freeing his silky locks. You yanked them a little, making him groan, and you imposed yourself again, slamming you lips on his. You make him stumble behind, ‘till his legs hit the bed’s border. With a gentle pull, you made him fall on the sheets, a beautiful blushing mess under your hungry eyes. A mess full of need too, judging by the bulge on his tight trousers…

“Let me take care of you, hm?” you murmured, grazing his flushed skin, on his neck, on his exposed pecs and down, slowly unbuttoning his smooth shirt, exposing the toned muscles of his abdomen. You took off as well your top clothes, throwing them near his and climbed on his lap, taking his face in your hands and kissing his soft lips, grinning when his hips slightly lifted to meet your bulge.

“Be patient…” you admonished him, passing your thumb on his bottom lip, relishing in his trembling and needy form and his eyes full of desire and, yes, love, all for you, just for you.

Your lips left a trail of sweet and wet kisses down his collarbone and chest. You giggled, when he yelped when your tongue suddenly lapped his sensitive nipples.

Your hands slowly unfastened his belt and trousers, followed by his pants. You grinned, watching him from above his length. His eyes were widen, his breath labored and he was definitely ready. You smirked again, lowering your lips on his tip, making him sharply gasp, and his hips bucketed, even if your hands kept him in place.

“Be a good boy…” you murmured, finally lowering on his length. The long moan he released was music to your ears, while you rhythmically bobbed your head up and down, finding a suitable pace. His moans grew louder and desperate, as his hands sank in your hair, to bring you even more down. You stopped, lifting your eyes, and he immediately understood your silent message: he slowly retreated his hands, keeping them at his sides. You were in charge, that night, and Prosciutto, for once, had to follow and be docile, if he wanted to gain the pleasure he desired so much.

When you saw him doing so, you resumed your ministrations, welcoming him in your mouth, in and out, in and out. His thighs were shaking, his moans were breathy and erratic: he was near.

Indeed, as predicted, after not even a couple of minutes his back arched and his hands ran back to your hair. You closed your eyes, swallowing his seed as soon as it spurted on your throat, trying to contain your gag reflex. His hands gripped tightly your locks, as you were is lifeline, while from his lips flowed incoherent words, your name and some “I love this, I love you”. Finally, you withdrew, swallowing ‘till the last drop, and you smiled at him, cleaning your lips with your fingers. He watched with a sleepy and satisfied smile as you slowly crawled on him, meeting his lips. He kissed you hungrily, tasting himself on your tongue, and you gently ruffled his blond hair, lost in the languid kiss.

“Now sleep, you need it. Tomorrow we’ll talk more, hm?” you murmured, lovingly caressing his cheek. He let you do so, docile and tamed, while you nestled near his half asleep, both for pleasure and for alcohol, form, hugging him, with a sigh of joy. You loved him since forever, but knowing that he loved you back was… incredible. You never felt so happy in all your life.

“Thank you.” he simply murmured, resting his cheek on your forehead and enveloping your shoulder with his arm. You closed your eyes as well, tired by work, by the whirlpool of emotions you were dragged in in the last hour and half. You would have all the next day to talk, and the next one…

You were enemies, yes, but just during work. it wasn’t enough to stop you… you would have make it all work. You both, together.

It would have worked.

All I know is you are there and I am here

Previous Part HERE

The brief respite of Yuuri’s sleep is short lived.

Like an anchor slowly being breached from still waters, so to is he slowly pulled to consciousness, the force of the blankets moving quietly jostling him awake.

The room is a blurred darkness, a mess of shifting navy shadows and soft lines without his glasses. It’s as he’s brought more fully awake that he notices the one thing that wasn’t in the room when he fell asleep: a figure, dark but prominent in the space as they slowly move across the bed until they’re sitting fully in top of the covers.

Yuuri recognises the whispered scent of their skin immediately.

“Victor?”

The figure shifts in the dark, carefully moving over the covers until the mussed silver of his fringe shines a little more prominently in the low light. His eyes are wide, dim but open like twin pools in the moonlight. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, slowly laying down against the blanket until he’s level with Yuuri. “I can’t sleep.”

Yuuri curls his fingers a little harder into the mattress, the urge to fix any errant hairs still as powerful as ever. He rolls more fully into his side, Victor’s face snapping more sharply into focus. “Me either.”

Yuuri realises he must not have been asleep long, cool droplets of water are still clinging like pearls to Victor’s hairline, the red from the chilled slap of the water still a firm blush on his skin.

He wants to touch him. Desperately. Wants to caress and hold and wrap him in his hoodie until they were both warmed, but he knows he can’t. Such casual touches had been shrugged off or flinched away from more times than he can count over the past few weeks, like his fingers were burning, his skin unwanted. It’s like they’re walking on increasingly thin ice around each other, the weight of seemingly meaningless words sometime enough to make it crack beneath his feet.

He doesn’t want it to happen now.

“I didn’t mean to be so short with you,” Victor continues quietly, holding Yuuri’s gaze. “That wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t move any closer, but carefully lifts himself to rest on his elbow so he’s staring down at Yuuri. His bottom lip is lightly pinched between his teeth, expression tight and held.

Yuuri can sense that he’s waiting for him to make his move, to answer or close the space between them. He wants to, wants to put this all behind them and pull him close but right now he just- can’t.

Right now he just wants to go to sleep. In his dreams he can forget, can be whoever he wants and dance through the sweetened colours of old memories with a permanent smile tattooed on his lips.

“It’s fine Victor,” he says flatly. He resist the urge to turn his back, wanting to hear him out.

He’s sick of being the one trying to fix this, the one waiting up for him, waiting for him to text him back, to make some meaningful contact-

Being the only one who was trying to fix this.

If Victor finally has something to say. He’s going to let him speak. Live in hope that he’ll at least try.

He watches something unreadable flash across Victor’s expression before he quietly sighs, releasing his lip. “No. No it’s not,” he whispers, moving a little closer, the words small and cold like a long-held confession. “Nothing’s fine right now.”

Yuuri feels the word pierce through his mind like a knife. It’s the first time in weeks he’s said anything about their situation, the first time he hasn’t dismissed it like the notion was some annoying fly that needed to be squashed.

He drops his gaze from Victor’s, desperately trying to keep his breathing even as he replies. “I know.” The words shake a little as he speaks, a familiar burn hot in his throat. He’s not sure if he even has any more tears to shed anymore, but the quiet admission of just how fractured the picture of their life was right now was threatening to spill the last ones he has left.

They don’t say anything else for a while.

Victor stays where he is, but his rigid posture melts a little, his other hand upturned against the sheets. It’s slow, but Yuuri can see it moving just that little bit closer to him like a peace offering, a white flag finally being waved over the battlefield of their indifference.

He barely realises that he own hand has escaped the warmth of the duvet and has wormed its way over to Victor’s. His skin is a little cold to the touch, but their hands still fit together like two forgotten puzzle pieces made to match.

It’s a small intimacy, but the light touch burns like a candle against his skin.

He sees the soft shine of Victor’s eyes slowly move form their entwined hands back to his face. There’s a silent plea to his expression, a wordless want that Yuuri remembers from months past.

He doesn’t resist.

He lets his hand and his eyes move from Victor’s and up the warm contour of his arm. The light hair tickles against his touch a little, the firm plane of muscle under his forefinger so familiar yet new. He continues to follow the soft lines of his skin like a forgotten treasure map, his fingers barely a ghost’s caress until he reaches the dip of his collar bone. He pauses there, softly splaying his whole hand against the pale canvas of his skin as he lifts his eyes to finally meet Victor’s properly.

Victor doesn’t stay idle any longer, slowly moving his own body until he’s leaning fully over Yuuri, his thighs cradling the soft bracket of Yuuri’s hips over the blanket. Yuuri keeps his hand where it is, lightly brushing his thumb across the pinkening skin of Victor’s chest, feeling the way his heartbeat and his breathing increase a little until it’s like the pulse of a hummingbird's wind under his palm.

His hair falls like a curtain of starlight from his head, the flutter of his breaths inching closer until there’s barely a whisper between them. He’s still taking it slow, still giving Yuuri the chance to opt out, to push him away and roll under the blanket like this never happened.

He doesn’t do any of those things.

As he kicks the blanket down and reaches both his arms around the soft curves of Victor’s spine, he knows that he’s being weak, knows that he shouldn’t let Victor lean down and kiss him like it’s nothing, stroke the arch of his throat like he cared, should stop him slipping his other hand down his chest and his stomach until he’s teasing him over his pants like an expert, his touch warm and practiced- but he doesn’t. He knows he can’t.

Right now he doesn’t care. Right now his body needs this.

It’s a blur after that.

It’s like they’re picking up the steps of a forgotten dance as they move together. It’s messy, quick, fumbling, but they’re both still acutely aware of the rhythms of each other's bodies, what to do to make the other gasp and beg to be touched. Yuuri doesn’t have to think, just feel. Concentrate on nothing but the pressure of each of Victor’s fingertips as pulls at Yuuri’s clothes until he’s bare and the taste of all that forgotten skin as he follows an old familiar trail down between Victor’s spread thighs. The echoing moan that drips from the other man’s lips is like some ancient prayer lost to time, but as sweet as a symphony to Yuuri’s ears.

He lets it all melt away like the lingering snow outside, his mind emptying all his strain until he’s sinking back into the heated intimacy that he was so sure was just a burnt shadow.

It doesn’t take long for either of them to finish. A few firm caresses of hands and tongues and they’re both crying out in near silent pleasure as their ecstasy washes hot from their mouths and between their bodies. Victor pulls his head up from under the sheets and rests it against Yuuri’s chest for a few seconds. The chill of his skin is long since chased away, his breathing loud and sweet in the dark air. Yuuri lets himself stroke the sweaty mess of his hair as he catches his breath, closing his eyes and wondering if they could live in this moment forever, stay relaxed and naked in the dream-like haze his can feel clouding his mind.

Still, all moments must pass.

All too soon Victor is rolling off of him and grabbing some tissues from the nightstand, hastily cleaning himself off. He keeps the new distance between them as he passes a few to Yuuri, his movements stiff.

Yuuri wants to say something, anything. There are a thousand conflicting thoughts buzzing like a swarm in his mind: about how amazing that was, about how it was a mistake, about how he just can’t go back to the way things were earlier.

He’s surprised when Victor talks first.

“I’m just so tired Yuuri,” he whispers, his face now nothing but a blurred silhouette in the darkness. “Just… all the time and it’s not- I can’t…” he trails off, shaking his head as he drops his face to his palms with a soft smack. Yuuri can’t see the tears, but he can feel them shaking from Victor’s body, almost taste the salt and regret shining against his skin as he silently sobs, all hidden by the curve of his palms.

Yuuri feels his heart shatter just that little bit more. The fractured pieces slowly grind to dust as he watches the man he loves, the man he looked up to, the man he saw as strong as ice and steel now breaking as easily as porcelain in front of him.

He has to try. One last time. He has to try and fix this.

“Victor.” His name catches in Yuuri’s throat as he leans over to rest his hand against Victor’s shoulder. His tone is a quiet plea. “ Tell me .”

Victor lifts his head, his breath stuttering as he exhales slowly, chest heaving with the effort. He keeps his face forward, his words wet and curt. “I’m sorry. I just- can’t.” He breathes out again his fingers flexing in and out of tightened fists against his legs. “Not right now.”

Yuuri pulls his hand away, but keeps his gaze trained on him. “Then what am I supposed to do?” He tries and fails to keep the frustration out of his voice.

All he wants is to help, to try and fix this, to find some way to get them back to the way they were and yet Victor seems determined to block him at every turn.

Like he can’t trust him. Like he doesn’t need him.

“Nothing.” Victor exhales again and finally turns to Yuuri, his lip swollen and red, clearly from where he’s bitten down on it. “Can’t we just- stay like this?” he murmurs wrapping his arms more surely around his knees, his back hunching over a little more.

It still hurts Yuuri to see, but he can feel that same bitter annoyance stoking like the embers of a dying fireplace in his gut. He sighs and lays back down against the mattress, turning away from him to stare at the flat white of the wall for a few seconds.

“That’s not good enough for me Victor,” he says as firmly as he can, the words old and sour against his tongue.

He feels Victor move towards him before pausing and retreating back to where he was. He hears him fall against the other side of the mattress, his own words a wintry hum in the darkness. “It’s late Yuuri. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“We won’t though.” The words are past his lips before he has a chance to think. Even from the other side of the bed he feels Victor stiffen, but right now he just does not have it in him to care.

He had nothing else to give, no more olive branches to extend, no more words of desperation or help to offer that might make Victor open up to him, might break the lock around his heart that seem to appear when he first stepped back on the ice as his competitor.

As he drifts, a realisation slowly unfurls in his mind. It’s one he had weeks ago, but now he’s done pushing it away and telling himself that they just needed time.

Time might heal all wounds, but it can’t fix everything.

And no matter how hard you try, some things in life just aren’t meant to be mended.

AO3

Bloody 4 A.M. (Part Two)

A/N: Requested second part of Bloody 4 A.M. Credits to owner of GIF.

Part One

“[Y/N], guess what!?”

Light flooded into the basement as a shrill voice came from the entrance. You opened your eyes, groaning as you tried to shield your eyes from the brightness. You glanced at your hand, noticing the grime stuck under your fingernails. You frowned, pulling your arms around your knees, trying to search for some source of heat in the freezing basement. It’s been two months since you’ve been thrown in this claustrophobia-inducing box but it felt like forever. You looked up at the figure standing in front of you, their Cheshire smile bringing bile to the back of your throat.

“What, Jungwoo?” You asked sweetly, offering him a soft smile. He grinned back at you as he crouched down to where you sat on the rough cement ground.

“I’m finally bringing you upstairs,” He whispered with a saccharine tone. He trailed his fingers down your cheeks as he studied your expressionless face. You suppressed the urge to inch away from his touch. However, deep inside you were jumping with joy. How long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal? Jungwoo had been force feeding you canned foods that were way past their due date. After a while, you started to let him shove the vile substance down your throat. Thinking about it harder, you could finally find a way to escape from this hellhole.

“T-Thank you, Jungwoo,” You replied quietly, forcing a smile. Over the weeks, you learned to become a great actor, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he could leave you alone as quickly as possible. He didn’t seem to notice when you were being sarcastic or when you were being genuine.

With a final chuckle, Jungwoo stood up. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you to your feet before dragging you up the stairs. Your head spun as you walked quickly, the old stairs groaning under your bare feet. He swung the door of the basement open, the light of the first floor flooding your vision. Your bare feet touched furnished wooden floors and you could feel the warmth of heat blowing in the building. You were overwhelmed by the sensation, tears threatening to fall as you were led to another room.

A pristine white bathroom stared back at you. A clean shower was adorned with multiple shampoos and body washes. The sink had a decorative mirror above it. Your hand immediately left Jungwoo’s and covered your mouth, forcing yourself not to sob from delight. You could finally take a proper shower. You felt Jungwoo’s eyes on you. His incessant staring had become one thing that you hadn’t gotten used to.

“I’ll bring some clothes for you, but enjoy your bath. You can use anything in here,” He explained. Flashing you another bright smile, he closed the door behind him. You were left alone in the bathroom. Finally alone.

You quickly ripped the clothes you were wearing off your sweaty body. Since you had arrived here, Jungwoo had given you an old T-shirt and some boxers to wear. You had been wearing the same clothes for two months until this day. Hurrying into the shower, you turned on the water, shrieking as the cold water hit your body. It took a minute before the water began to heat up. Your shivering body calmed as you stood in the warm water. You savored the feeling of the droplets hitting your sore back. Grabbing a bar of soap, you lathered it on your body and began to scrub away at the dirt and grime that was layered on your skin and inside your fingernails. After a while, you turned off the water, deeming that your body was finally squeaky clean. You weren’t counting the minutes, but the steamy mirror showed that you had been in the shower for some time.

As you got out of the shower, you winced at the cool air hitting your warm body. A towel and some dry clothes were neatly placed on the sink counter. You took the towel in your hand, studying the white material. As water dripped down your body and wet the tiled floors, you thought about where you last saw the color white.

Taeyong had been wearing white when you last saw him. His white T-shirt had clung to his lean form and slim shoulders when he left you alone in his comfortable bed. It was only an hour later when that spotless shirt had been defiled. The garment had been sticky with his blood, an angry scarlet red that bled into the grains of the wooden floors.

Your grip on the towel tightened as tears spilled down your cheeks. You wiped the salty droplets off your face in a hurry and dried your body, pulling on the clothes that were set on the counter. After taking a deep breath, you looked up at the mirror above the sink. Frowning at your appearance, you moved closer to examine yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and your messy hair were a sore sight. Sighing from exasperation, you swung the door open and entered the dark hallway. You wrapped your arms around your body, the hallway a cold contrast to the steamy bathroom.

Finding your way down the corridor, you quietly entered the kitchen. You saw a figure sitting at the dining table as they casually scrolled through their phone. You grimaced at the sight of them. Jungwoo. You could pick him out in any busy crowd from a mile away. You were about to turn around before Jungwoo’s head shot up, a smile adorning his lips as he noticed you.

“[Y/N]!” He sang as he got up from his seat. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he moved towards you. Setting an arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the stove.

“Let’s cook dinner together,” He suggested as he began to pick out ingredients from his fridge. You watched him perform a meager task as you were rooted to the ground. You were speechless in the way he was treating this entire situation. It was as if everything that had happened in the past weeks were nothing but distant memories. He had that same damn smile on his face as he set down one last ingredient. He pulled out a wooden chopping board and set it on the kitchen counter. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he moved you until you were in front of the board. Feeling something heavy placed in your hands, you looked down to see your fingers gripping a sharp kitchen knife.

Looking to your right, you saw Jungwoo fiddling with the stove as he tried to figure out how to turn on the burner. Looking back to the chopping board, you ran your thumb against the cool metal of the knife. Your hands slightly trembled as you studied Jungwoo out of the corner of your eyes. Your mind flashed to an image of Jungwoo with a knife stuck in his side, blood trickling onto the clean kitchen floors. Your breath staggered as your hold on the blade tightened. Surveying Jungwoo, you saw a frown on his face as he continued to mess with the stove. All of a sudden a small flame burst and he laughed, looking over at you. His eyes studied your face before looking down to your hand that clasped the knife. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he noticed your actions. Trying to ignore his expression, you offered him a smile before averting your gaze, blinking away the trance you had been put in.

“Here,” He whispered as he set a tomato in front of you. You began to carefully chop it and the rest of the vegetables. In no time, everything was thrown in an oiled pan and the smell of a home cooked meal wafted through the air. You had been dismissed and sat at the dining table as you watched Jungwoo’s back. His movements were quick, almost professional.

As you continued staring it was too hard to believe that he had been struggling to turn on the stove a moment ago. He moved around the kitchen swiftly, a kitchen towel set on his shoulder and an apron tied around his waist. In no time, a plate piled with pasta and tomato sauce was set in front of you. Jungwoo smirked as he took a seat in front of you, gesturing for you to taste the dish. You gingerly picked up your fork and twirled the angel hair pasta around the metal prongs. You gulped as you slowly brought the utensil to your mouth. Praying, you closed your mouth around the fork and embraced the texture of al dente pasta and sautéed tomato sauce. With a soft chuckle at your apprehension, Jungwoo began to eat with you.

You cursed yourself as you scarfed down the rest of the food. Fear had set in as soon as Jungwoo had told you to take a break from helping him in the kitchen. Leaving him alone gave him multiple chances to do whatever he wanted to the food. You remembered how easily he had gotten rid of Taeyong. You knew he had the power to do that to you with the snap of his finger. However, you were finally eating a proper meal and you were grateful for that. Taeyong’s face only glimmered in your mind for a split-second, but it was enough for your appetite to be killed. Feeling your stomach clench in disgust, you set down your fork and stared at the half-eaten plate in front of you. You began zoning out, but Jungwoo clearing his throat gathered your attention back to him.

“Do you not like my cooking?” He questioned, a nervous smile on his face. You noticed how his hand shook from how hard he gripped his fork. His smile was still plastered on his face as he waited for you to answer.

“I-I’m just not hungry anymore, Jungwoo,” You answered. He frowned as he prodded at the pasta on his plate. Offering him a small smile, you continued speaking. “But, I’m glad you cooked for me.”

There you went again with the lies and the acting.

Jungwoo seemed to believe your words as a grin spread on his face. He jumped up from his seat and collected your plate. Covering your plate with plastic wrap, he put it in the microwave for whenever you were hungry again. He ran around the kitchen cleaning dishes and putting containers away. You were still sitting at the table as you studied him. Your thoughts were shattered as Jungwoo sighed exasperatedly as he stared at his watch.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]! It’s almost seven and I have to go somewhere.” He hurried to his coat rack, pulling on a thick hoodie and hiding his dark hair under a baseball cap.

“Oh, okay. I-I guess I’ll see you later, then,” You quietly bid. He flashed you another smile before shoving his headphones in his ears and exiting. The booming sound of the door slamming shut caused you to jolt.

Now left alone, you had never realized how cold his apartment really was. You hugged yourself, hoping to garner some warmth from the little amount of body heat you had. Slowly getting up from your seat, you looked around the room. Surveying Jungwoo’s apartment, it didn’t give off the feeling of what his personality was actually like. He seemed caring and loving, but it was all a façade. You had seen how easily his warm eyes could change into steely, murderous orbs. You saw how easily he could get upset over something and then happy the next minute. He didn’t like when you refused food, so he slapped you until you complied. He didn’t like when you would grimace from his touch, so he pulled you close to him until you learned to accept it. Thinking now, the way he composed himself in the kitchen reminded you of how easily he could twirl a knife between his deft fingers. All these signs pointed to Jungwoo being dangerous, unstable. You knew what he was capable of when you set eyes on Taeyong’s lifeless body. The lacerations made on Taeyong’s face were nothing but the work of an expert. However, there were still questions that needed to be answered. For example, why did he put so much effort into taking care of you? Why was he doing all of this? When would you go home? You knew it would take a while before these inquiries would be answered, or maybe they never would be. Maybe you’d be stuck here forever, rotting in this damned prison that was disguised as an apartment. Your hands began to tremble at your realization. Maybe you were destined to be Jungwoo’s prisoner, forced to walk on eggshells around him.

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

You chanted that one word in your head like a mantra as you stormed towards the apartment door. There was no way you were going to be locked up with some psychopath for the rest of your days. You swear you had already been going crazy when you were locked up in the basement. How crazy would it be if you tried to run away? All you knew was you needed to get out of the apartment before Jungwoo came back.

Grabbing the golden knob, you swung the door open. The sun was setting, the sky a golden sea of clouds. Your body welcomed the warm night as you slowly began to walk out. Your bare feet touched the concrete as you tiptoed outside. You almost began laughing from joy before your smile instantly dropped. A look of horror was evident on your face as you took in the sight in front of you. Tripping over something, you yelped as you fell to your knees. You felt the skin of your knees being scraped off as you collided with the concrete. You struggled to breathe as you winced from your fall.

“J-Jungwoo?”

He sat on the front steps as his head bopped to the loud pop music playing from his headphones. His broad shoulders were hunched over his body as he sat on the steps. He pulled out his phone, pausing the song he was currently listening to. Almost mechanically, he looked over his shoulder, his eyes an empty pit of darkness as he stared at you, yet there was an eerie smile on his face. His voice was cold as he spoke, causing shivers to run down your spine.

“Hello, [Y/N].”

Me Again | Taemin

summary: taemin had no idea someone so kind lived upstairs from him words: 2k+ category: gang member!taemin x fem!reader, angst, fluff warnings: mentions of stabbing/blood, clichés

Taemin looked between the items in his hands. His right arm was wrapped around a laundry basket filled with... questionable clothing, while his left hand held a notice from the landlord, that his water that been shut down. He pursed his lips in contemplated thought. His first option was visiting the laundry mat, but even that was dangerous, considering the amount of blood that would slosh around in the washing machine. He could visit one of his neighbors, and hope his lie about falling off of his motorcycle would work.

What else could he say? Hi! I'm Taemin. I've been your neighbor for years but I've never said hi until now. Could I please use your washing machine to clean my fellow gang member's clothes? It would mean a lot to us.

Taemin ran a hand through his dark hair. His teeth grazed his lower lip as he tried to gain the courage to go talk to someone. The thought of any of his neighbors being cops — or worse, an enemy gang member — made him hesitant. But he had to get this done. He was the youngest member of his gang, and it was his job to get the chores done. Last time he failed to complete them, he got beat up. He could still feel the bruises sometimes.

He'd try the apartment above him. If he didn't state his name or his address, he'd be fine. There would be no harm. He didn't really have any extra time to contemplate his decisions, because the rest of his gang would be home soon, and if those clothes weren't washed and folded, he'd be punished again.

He knocked on the door. His palms felt sweaty, as did his upper lip. Maybe no one would answer. Maybe he could go hand wash them in his bathtub. Why didn't he think of that sooner?

The door swung open, and Taemin was met with your eyes. Glasses covered them, and your hair was messy and tangled. Although you were in nightclothes, you looked somewhat awake. Then Taemin looked down. A small child was holding onto your flannel pants, peaking out at Taemin.

"Sorry," you said, cheeks flushed at the unannounced arrival, "I'm babysitting my niece and haven't had time to get ready. What can I do for you?"

"Oh," Taemin held up his laundry basket, "I was wondering if I could use your laundry machine? Our water's out and I have to get these cleaned as soon as possible."

"Sure," you said. "I'll show you the washing machine and you can use it while I try to put this little one down for a nap."

You seemed easygoing, and Taemin felt bad for dirtying up your laundry with blood. But you had Downy fabric softener, so that made him feel a bit less bad. The thought of he and his members smelling like a "lavender breeze" had him chuckling to himself.

When he arrived back to your kitchen, you were just sitting down, a baby monitor in your hand. "What's so funny?" You gestured to Taemin's smiling face with the tool. His joy was still prominently there, even though he wasn't laughing.

"Oh." Taemin struggled to control the shape of his lips, "Nothing."

"No, seriously," you were eyeing him suspiciously now, "Did you knick one of my bras while you were in there?"

"No!" Taemin's ears turned red with embarrassment. He had been so worried about his clothes that he hadn't even seen any bras. "I was laughing because of your fabric softer. It smells good."

"You're weird," you said blankly. Your eyes occasionally trailed down to the monitor in your hand. "Is that why you've never introduced yourself? Because you know you're weird?"

"Okay, I'm not that weird," Taemin said. His narrow brows furrowed, "And I was never trying to be rude. I-It's my roommates. They aren't as friendly. You probably wouldn't like them as much."

"As much as I like you?" You  deciphered his words carefully, your teasing lips lifting from each corner as you did.

Taemin shook his head, not sure what to say. "I'm really sorry. I'll be out of your hair soon. It's just... our water... and my roommates... we'll be more careful next time." He studied your kitchen. It was similar to his, except there were cereal boxes on the fridge, and hand towels with stupid sayings on them hanging from the stove. It was cold in here as well, just enough to make you want to wear a sweater, or cuddle up to someone.

"You don't really think I'm bothered, do you?" you broke his reverie.

Taemin snapped his gaze towards you again, just in time to see you push your glasses up your nose. The action made him quirk his brow. You were quite cute, he had to admit.

Beep! "That's me." Taemin bolted up, grabbing his basket. "I'll just dry these at my place. My roommates will be home soon and they wouldn't like me up here."

His rushed movements had you momentarily confused, like stepping off of an extremely fast rollercoaster. Disoriented, that was the word. "W-Well, my door's always open if you need anything else, okay?"

Taemin was already to your door, one hand on the knob. "Thanks," he breathed, "It means a lot."

Taemin had almost forgotten about you. As far as he was concerned, you were just the cute girl living upstairs, whose washing machine might or might not have the faint smell of blood in it now, thanks to him. He wasn't planning on ever knocking on your door again.

But he may have picked a fight with his gang leader, and it may have ended in someone drawing a knife. Unfortunately, Taemin was on the wrong side of the blade. They threw him out, tossing his bags with him. Luckily, they never unpacked in case they had to leave at a moment's notice. Taemin grabbed the handles and hobbled his way up the stairs, two bags dragging lazily behind him.

The gash across his torso was deep, and it definitely needed stitches. But Taemin would rather die on your doorstep than go to the hospital as have to explain why he had just gotten stabbed.

His members just wanted to teach him a lesson, because he tried to change the gang's rules when it came to certain morals. They would want him to prove that he was strong enough to live through the pain and brave enough to return to them.

Taemin groaned, half in annoyance and half in agony. He should've ran off into the woods and died there. That would save you the absolute trauma of having your weird neighbor sprawled across your doorstep, blood pooling around him.

He ended up slumping against your door, the thump louder than anticipated. His plan was to reach into his back pocket and grab his phone. He could find someone to call, surely.

"Holy—! Are you okay?" Before he could go through with his plan, the door swung open, and Taemin fell onto his back.

He rolled to his side and groaned, "Not exactly."

"Is that a stab wound?" You grabbed him under the shoulders and dragged him into your living room. After closing and locking your door, you gave him your full attention. "Should I wash the blood off of the stairs first or stitch you up?"

Under normal circumstances, Taemin would wonder why you immediately knew what to do. Since he was half delirious, he choked out, "Stairs. The cops will see if the drive by."

While you went outside, Taemin slowly crawled his way towards your couch, where he could rest his head on the cushions. He kept a hand tight on the stab wound, worried about staining your rug. Every time he moved it felt like his skin was tearing open once more. Pain would shoot through his veins like a line of white hot fire. His head was throbbing, and everything inside of him screamed to close his eyes and go to sleep.

Just as he was about to give in to the temptation, a sharper, more humane kind of pain hit his cheek. "Don't die on me now, neighbor. I don't even know your name yet."

"I-It's Taemin." He gasped as you pulled him down, until he was on his back.

"Oh. Great. Well, I'm Y/n." You shoved a dish towel between his teeth. "Unfortunately I have no anesthesia so you'll have to bite down on this while I stitch you up."

Taemin nodded, closing his eyes, eyebrows furrowed in anticipation. Truthfully, he was scared of needles. He couldn't really say that because he was part of a street gang, but it was true. The little silver points terrified him to no end.

He bit down on the towel when he felt the first prick through his skin, squeamish thoughts circulating in his brain. The pain must've been too much for him, because it wasn't long before he passed out, his body acting as it's own anesthesia.

When he woke up, he was still lying on the floor. Only now, a pillow had been slid under his head. He turned his head to the side, and saw a glass of water and two pain killer pills. "Ah..." he winced as he turned on his side, stretching his hand to grab the pills.

After dry swallowing both of them, he sat up as best as he could, despite feeling like he was going to throw up. "Y/n..? Are you still here?"

"I'm getting dressed!" you called from down the hall. "Give me a minute."

Taemin used that minute to slowly crawl onto the couch and sink into the cushions. He sighed in contentment, his back muscles relieved, at least. There was more discomfort in his mind than in his body. He wondered what would happen now. How long would he have to wait until he could return to his gang, and be forgiven. He wondered if they'd beat him up again, or simply send him on another life-threatening mission.

A door opened down the hallway, perhaps the bathroom door, because steamy air escaped. The living room soon felt warmer, filled with the smell of orchids or cherry blossoms: some kind of flower.

"Okay," you appeared beside him, hair wrapped in a towel. "I've got to be at the clinic in an hour, so do you want to tell me why you showed up last night bloodied and dying?"

Taemin wanted to shrug, but the strain on his muscles would've hurt too much. "I'm part of a gang."

You pulled the towel away from your hair and mussed up your hair. "Isn't that something you should keep a secret?"

Taemin giggled, "Yeah. I guess."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever. If you get injured again, you know where to find me. I've got a medical degree so I can heal you up quickly."

"I won't bother you again," Taemin said. "Don't worry."

It wasn't a week later when he arrived at your door, this time with a busted lip and a swollen eye. "Hi. I lied."

While he made his way to your couch, you chuckled under your breath. "Do you always make them mad? Or are you just extremely clumsy?"

"I'd sound cuter if I was just clumsy, wouldn't I?" he ventured, watching as you pulled your first aid kit off of the kitchen counter.

"I knew you'd be back," you explained why you had it out. "You seem a bit too dependable to fix yourself on your own."

"Am I supposed to be offended by that comment?" Taemin teased, his lips cracking as his smiled.

"Don't smile," you chided. "It makes your wound worse."

Taemin was content to sit back while you dabbed antiseptic onto his wounds, only hissing once when you hit a particularly nasty cut on his cheek. "You should see the other guy," he joked.

You shook your head, "Why are they always beating you up?"

"I question their authority," Taemin spoke honestly. "I don't really like them. They're disloyal and untrustworthy. I think they can tell that I'm trying to get out of their gang."

"Won't they kill you for that?" You dabbed under his eyebrow, avoiding eye contact. They were a beautiful russet, practically glowing with mischief. You were bound to get lost in them in you looked for too long.

"Yeah. I might try to find a new gang. There's one we used to do deals with, there are four of them. I really liked them."

"How are you gonna go to another gang and ask them if you can join? Is that realistic?"

"No," Taemin quipped, "but it's worth a shot."

Apparently something else was worth a shot, and that was Taemin's leaving the group. You heard the gunshot go off downstairs. Fear coursed through your veins as you waited, hoping Taemin would come knocking again with that stupid smile and a joke at the tip of his tongue.

You peaked out your window, startled to see the tenants of Taemin's apartment shuffling towards a pick-up truck, tossing duffel bags in the bed. If you weren't mistaken, police sirens were going off somewhere in the distance. If they left Taemin in there, he could get arrested, assuming he was still alive.

As soon as the truck was out of view, you darted down the stairs into their already open apartment.

Taemin was slouched against the wall, blood spilling out of his torso. He looked up at the noise, and broke into a toothy grin upon seeing you. "Okay, so I maybe should've tried to leave in the middle of the night, instead of the middle of the day. My mistake."

You let out a chuckle and helped him to his feet.

Once the two of you were safely in your apartment, you helped ease Taemin onto your couch. "I have so many blood stains on my couch now, thanks to you."

"Sorry," he grunted, but the smile on his face said he was anything but apologetic. "On the bright side, it's nice spending time with you."

"Ah, yes," you said, "Quality time of me healing your wounds. We could just go out for pizza sometime. Bowling, maybe, once you heal."

You checked for an exit wound and let out a sigh of relief when you found it, clean and scarlet against his pale back. "This will be an easy clean up, but if you have a new gang, you might want to get them to take a look at it. Gangs have doctors, right?"

"I dunno," said Taemin. "But they accepted me. They like my knife and manipulation skills. They're nice, Y/n. And the leader, his name is Jinki and he's really cool. Has connections with rich people and stuff. Minho has connections with sports teams, and Kibum—"

"Taemin," you interrupted, taking his stalled speech as a moment to pour antiseptic over the wound. He hissed. "You shouldn't tell me your new member's secrets."

"Well, I told them about you. They offered you a place, if you want to become our official gang doctor, or whatever you want to call it."

You hummed. "Well, it sure would beat this crappy apartment."

"Right?" Taemin brightened, "and you'd love the boys. We could teach you weapon handling as well."

"Slow your roll, Taemin," you giggled. "Let's start with the pizza, alright? Then we'll talk about joining your little gang."

Taemin bit his lip and smiled up at you, "Deal."

Vampanarimloo Ch. 1 Pt. 2

“What do you what, Webber Boy?” Kerik says irritably after he opens the door.

“Your help,” Panaro shrugs.

Kerik looks him over. He can tell the young Merik is incredibly distraught. Panaros eyes have bags from worrying about Karimloo all night, and his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. When Kerik looked in Panaro’s eyes, it was as if he could see through into his mind and see all the fear and sadness tormenting him in there. And though most of their Eriks were accustomed to not eating often, Panaro’s stomach rumbled loudly, and it sounded almost painful. He really did need his help.

“Come in,” Kerik opens his door for Panaro to come through. “This is regarding your companion down the hall isn’t it.”

Kerik's room was certainly a sight to behold. Panaro could see boards lining the walls, several detailed blueprints and layouts for all sorts of inventions and architectural structures. The furniture had been gutted and replaced with fine Persian rugs, a cushioned armchair, and a well furnished bed. The smoke and scent wafting through the room was courtesy of the hookah pipe on Kerik's nightstand.

“Yes…” Panaro stifled a cough inhaling the smell.

He takes a seat on Kerik’s bed, which was softer than he at first expected, and sighs while Kerik goes over to the personal bar he has set up and pours two drinks. Panaro can tell he is tense, in fact this is the tightest he’s ever seen the other man's shoulders. Kerik was always the most laid back of all of them, but tonight was different all together. It was as if Panaro were talking to a whole other Phantom entirely.

“So,” Kerik says. “What is it.”

"What am I going to do?" Panaro asks, shaking like a leaf.

"Kill him, plain and simple,” Kerik responds flatly.

"I love him! I'm not going to sit by and let that happen-" Panaro was cut off by Kerik slamming his hands on the table he was pouring at, shaking the glasses.

"So you're fine if he hurts you?!" He shouts, wheeling around.

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Kerik scoffs, "Don't think I didn't see those marks."

Panaro adjusts his collar, his fingers grazing his lip “He didn't mean to… it was an accident…"

"Right. What if it's Jones next? Or Mauer? Mann? What if next time around he goes after father dearest Crawford, eh? Can you live with one of your own’s death on your conscience because you let things be?! I've seen this dozens of times over before!" Kerik's shoulders were shaking with rage.

Panaro sat in shocked silence, he had never seen Kerik like this before. His raising his voice was a terrifying thing to behold. His golden eyes seemed to be made of flames in his anger, but soon they cooled. Kerik assessed the situation at hand, and let his shoulders drop. Handing Panaro a glass of some sort of alcoholic drink- smelling strongly like a cream sherry mixture -he sighed.

"Sorry. This is a sore spot for me,” Kerik apologizes, downing his glass in one gulp.

“You said you knew about this happening before…?” Panaro asks carefully. “How…?”

“In Russia…” Kerik breathes in deeply and begins fixing another drink. “I was alone… I was careless…I wasn’t listening to my surroundings, paying attention to where I was. I didn’t know anyone was following me.”

Panaro watches Kerik carefully as he tells his story. The novelized man holds his glass so tight Panaro is worried it might shatter in his hands as he moves towards the window. Kerik’s jaw is locked tight, and Panaro shifts uncomfortably, absentmindedly rubbing Ayesha’s ear to calm his nerves.

“I was attacked,” Kerik continues, his voice gravely. “By a vampire… He must’ve thought I’d be an easy target, you know, someone who wouldn’t be missed. I suppose he was right…”

“How did you get away?” Panaro asks.

“Well for starters I put up one hell of a fight,” Kerik chuckles and turns towards Panaro. “But it was Nadir who saved me in the end. He heard the commotion going on, in fact he was already following me, and he put an end to the vampire. I would’ve died if it weren’t for him…”

Panaro could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

“He took me under his wing, taught me everything I know about vampires. We were an unstoppable force in Persia when it came to hunting…” Kerik pauses. “What I’m saying, Panaro, is that I’ve seen these creatures first hand. I’ve seen the destruction they cause and have been the boot of it more times than I’d care to admit. But it doesn’t matter who they are or how much you love them. They’re not cats that can be tamed. They’re beasts that need to be killed,” He was beginning to raise his voice again, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

“There has to be another way… That can’t be the only answer,” Panaro says desperately, suddenly standing. “There has to be civil vampires they can’t all be ravenous!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Vampires are creatures of strategy right? That’s why they attack when people are alone! Or why they change people with no moral compass,” Panaro is frantic and loud. “Well they were wrong with Karimloo! Please!”

“Panaro… he’s not human anymore.”

“He may not be human, but he hasn’t lost his humanity,” There’s a long pause. “He’s the one who told me to come downstairs you know. He was the reason I left the room when I did. He didn’t want to hurt me… It’s still him Kerik. It’s still Karimloo.”

Kerik watches Panaro with pity, but also with great remorse. He wished what had happened to Karimloo hadn’t as much as anyone, perhaps even more since he knows the strain of the situation, but what could he do?

“Help him,” Panaro jabs. “You said you knew vampires like the back of your hand, prove it. Help him be safe to be around. Train him.”

Kerik rolls his glass around between his fingers, processing the entire conversation. “Let me see him.”

“Be my guest.”

The two make their way to the couple’s shared room in silence, both of their minds working through the whole thing. Whatever Kerik saw in this room would decide Karimloo’s fate, and both he and Panaro knew and dreaded that fact. Placing his sweaty palms on the cool door knob, Panaro held his breath as he opened the door.

When the door opens the pair sees Karimloo wearing only his tank top and sweats, pacing the room and covered in beads of sweat. Panaro sees his lover’s mask thrown haphazardly on the messy bed, and most items on their dresser knocked over. Karimloo’s wig, though still on, is a tangled mess, and they could tell he has been running his hands through it for a while. Panaro hated to see him like this, and Kerik hated to see Panaro seeing him like this. Closing the door again, he speaks.

“He needs to feed,” Kerik says, reading Panaro’s confused expression.

“Can he do that without…?” Panaro feels a flush of worry go over him.

“It’s possible, yes,” Kerik answers. “Just incredibly hard for those who have been recently changed.”

“Can you help him stop once he starts,” The Broadway Man asks, then adds. “Humanely.”

Kerik sighs, “There are ways of subduing them without killing them yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Love?” Panaro says softly as he pushes open the bedroom door.

Karimloo’s face lights up when he sees his companion, but his glad expression seemed to be a mask that covered a look of despair. Upon seeing Kerik, however, both expressions melded into one of anger, though his eyes still showed the same fear.

“Why did you bring him in here,” Karimloo hisses, looking at Kerik.

“What do you-“ Panaro starts, but is cut off.

“Don’t think that I couldn’t hear you all talking about me downstairs,” Karimloo’s fist curls itself into a tight ball. “Or the two of you talking in his room.”

“Love there is no way in Hell or Hannibal that I am going to let him hurt you…” Panaro carefully takes his partner’s hands. “You have to trust me…”

“I do trust you,” Karimloo’s voice is calm as he looks into the eyes of his love. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

“Contrary to what either of you may believe, I came to see if I could help you,” Kerik steps forward. “Whether I like it or not.”

“Help me how?” Karimloo asks skeptically.

“Well, first off, I’m sure you’re thirsty. My job is to make sure whoever you bite you don’t drain dry.”

Karimloo’s mood instantly shifts and his shoulders drop, “I… I can’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“Well the longer you hold it off, the more likely you are to snap and the less likely you are to leave your meal alive,” Kerik explains. “If you feed now, there will be less harm done later.”

Karimloo bites his lip. Kerik was right and he knew it. But what could he do? Was he supposed to risk it biting someone in the House? Someone he loved? Would that connection give him incentive to stop?

“How?” Karimloo breathes.

“Me,” Panaro steps forward, causing both other men to startle.

“Panaro, I can’t…”

“If you snack on Kerik he won’t be able to stop you as readily as if he was just watching and making sure everything is going alright,” He explains. “It’s safer this way.”

“We didn’t talk about this,” Kerik puts his hand on Panaro’s shoulder. “Panaro…”

“I trust him, Kerik… and I trust you.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Kerik warns.

“Do we have another choice?”

The room stands in silence for a moment, Kerik thinking through every possible outcome. Panaro stares at him, trying to convince him with his eyes, and Karimloo stares at Panaro, full of worry for his love. With a sigh Kerik gives, not finding any other option.

“Panaro. Sit,” He says and gestures to the bed. He then pulls up their desk chair and sets it kitty corner to the edge. “Karimloo.”

Karimloo sits in the chair and takes Panaro’s hand, his shoulders tight. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath. This was the moment. Just as everything could go right, there was a bigger chance that everything could go wrong. Any number of them could get hurt, and none of them wanted that to happen.

“So, Vampy, you’re going to use Panaro’s wrist. It’s safer should something go wrong, then you’re not on his throat threatening anything important,” Kerik explains and Karimloo nods, rubbing Panaro’s hand protectively. “When you’re ready.”

Panaro turns his wrist over, and Karimloo takes a deep breath in, not even believing himself what he was about to do. A chill runs down Panaro’s spine when he sees the fangs in his love’s mouth and his brain makes the connection to what’s about to happen. Kerik places a hand on the panicking Phantom’s shoulder, trying to calm his fight or flight response.

Carefully as he could, Karimloo bites into Panaro’s wrist and he jumps at the puncture, a yelp leaving his lips. Kerik watches carefully, looking for any sign of danger. It was a simple enough task, but the stakes were high. One wrong move and Panaro could get the short end of that stick, but if that happened Kerik would make sure Karimloo got the sharp end.

“I think that’s enough…” Panaro says, his head beginning to swirl. “Angel…”

“Karimloo,” Kerik tries to grab his attention. “Karimloo you’ve had your fill you’re killing him. Karimloo!”

Kerik flips open a ring he had on his right hand flicks it’s contents- a small amount of vervain -into Karimloo’s face. Karimloo shoots up and growls at the Novelized Man, still in a feeding frenzy. Suddenly, the two are hand to hand, struggling for the upper hand. Karimloo was stronger, but didn’t know how to use it to his advantage yet, and Kerik knew that. The fight grows on, but remains even until Kerik throws the vampire to the ground and steps back, pulling a stake out of his jacket to Panaro’s horror.

“STOP!” He shouts and jumps up in between them, still dizzy and clutching his wrist.

Karimloo snaps out of his rage when he hears his love’s voice, but Kerik isn’t so easy.

“Get out of the way, Panaro,” He orders, looking straight through him and to Karimloo.

“What did you expect to happen he was feeding!” Panaro yells, unsure of what he’s actually saying.

“He could’ve killed us!” Kerik shoots back, still ready to attack.

“You know just as well as I do that he wouldn’t.” Panaro defends. “He just needs to learn how to control it.”

“Even if we do, we can’t be sure that it can be trusted.”

“It? Are you listening to yourself? That’s still Karimloo over there! Can’t you find it somewhere in yourself to see that?!”

“I want to, Merik! I want to believe that it’s him!” Kerik shouts, a single tear rolling. “Do you think I want to kill one of our own? I want to trust him… but how can I when-”

Kerik’s emotional outpour was paused by a white flash entering the room. The fighting men looked to the spot on the ground where the fluff ball went curiously. The stake Kerik held in his hand slipped to the ground when he saw Ayesha in Karimloo’s lap, purring as happy as can be.

“She’s… she’s never done that to one of them before…. She always…. Attacks…” Kerik is at a loss for words.

Karimloo scoops up the cat and walks over to Kerik. Handing her to him, Karimloo looks into the Hunter’s eyes. Kerik nods and takes Karimloo’s hand with his free one, Ayesha perched in his left.

“I’ll help,” He says, looking between the two Meriks. “Let’s get to work.”

It Wasn't Supposed To Be Like This - Caspian x Reader

Request from Anon: Hiii! If you're taking requests would you mind writing Caspian x reader when Caspian's uncle is using the reader (Caspian's girlfriend) to get back on him? Or something along those lines, thank you x A/n: I changed the plot a little. Where Miraz (Caspian's uncle) threatens the reader to make Caspian fall in love with her, then kill him. But she ends up falling in love with Caspian. I hope it's enjoyable. XD You walked through the hallways to Lord Miraz's room. Your palms were sweaty and you were very nervous. Miraz had called for you, but you didn't know why. Had you done something wrong? Why would he want you, a commoner to enter the royal palace. You stood before the door of Miraz's room. You gulped, preparing yourself for what would come next. Which you weren't even sure what it was. But you were assuming it would be bad. You reached out a shaking hand to the golden doorknob, decorated with diamonds. But the door opened before you'd even touched the knob. You were greeted with the face of Miraz, towering over you. A malicious smile appeared on his face. "Come in." Miraz said walking back inside. You followed behind him. You were still extremely nervous. Miraz pulled out a bare wooden chair. "Sit." He commanded. You obeyed. Miraz sat in a red cushioned chair. The wood was painted to look like gold, an it was also decorated with diamonds. "M-My Lord..." You began sheepishly. "Why have you called me here?" "You are expecting the worst aren't you?" Miraz asked, ignoring your question. "Don't worry. There will be no harm done to you or your family and friends." You loosened up a bit. Your tense shoulders relaxed. "Unless..." Miraz added. You tensed up again. "U-Unless what, My Lord?" You asked nervously. "Unless you disobey my orders." Miraz answered. "What are your orders My Lord." You asked. "Do you know of Prince Caspian?" Asked Miraz. You nodded. "I think everyone does. He is the heir to the throne after all." You responded. Miraz's forced smile changed into a sincere smirk. "Not for long." Miraz said in a low and intimidating voice. A shiver of fear went up your spine. You were frozen in fear. Staring at Miraz in fear. Did he just say what you think he said...? "What do you mean My Lord...?" You asked nervously. "You asked about your orders?" "Yes..." "I am going to pretend you are a princess from a foreign country. I will introduce you to Caspian. You will make him fall in love with you. Then, the first time he tries to kiss you. Let him, and stab him in the back when he does." Miraz ordered. You blushed at the thought of Prince Caspian falling in love with you, and of him kissing you. But then your brain comprehended the rest of Miraz's orders. But you didn't refuse them. You knew what Miraz would do to you. To your friends, and to your family. "Why me?" You asked sheepishly. "Believe it or not. You're quite popular in your home town." Stated Miraz. "They all talk about how wonderful you are. I've overheard some things. And I have no doubts that Caspian will fall in love with you." You were silent, unsure what to say. "Alright. I'll do it." You said finally. "I knew you would. Now..." Miraz looked at your plain, stained clothing. "Let's get you something more fancy to wear." You nodded in agreement. Thirty minutes later, Miraz deemed you ready. Miraz led you to Caspian's room. Your heart pounded. You were meeting a lot of royalty today. Miraz knocked on the door of Caspian's room. "Caspian. Come out." Miraz said. There were footsteps coming to the door. You gulped, there were only mere seconds until you met Caspian. Caspian opened the door to his room. His dark hair was slightly messy. "Yes Uncle?" Caspian said with his thick accent. You felt your skip a heart beat for some reason. Caspian's dark colored eyes shifted over to you. A small smile appeared on his face. "Who's this?" He asked. "A princess from another country." Answered Miraz. He pushed you towards Caspian. "I thought you might like to get to know her." Miraz added. You curtsied nervously, avoiding eye contact with Caspian. "It is wonderful to meet you Your Majesty." You said sheepishly. Caspian chuckled softly. You looked up at him nervously. Why was he laughing? Had you done something wrong? Does royalty not bow to each other? "Please. Just call me Caspian." Caspian said with a smile. You rose to your feet. Your cheeks were dusted with a soft pink. "Come in." Caspian said gesturing to the inside of his room. You nodded and entered. You looked back seeing Miraz with a sinister smile. Then Caspian closed the door. Caspian lit a few more candle and put them in lanterns, lighting up the room more. Caspian offered you a seat on his bed. You sat. He sat next to you. "Forgive me for being rude. What is your name?" Caspian asked. "(Y/n)." You answered, trying to sound as confident as possible. Capian nodded, showing he was listening to what you were saying. Something Miraz hadn't done when you talked to him. "(Y/n)..." Caspian mumbled to himself, a small smile on his lips. "It's a very lovely name." Caspian said. You blushed. "Th-Thank you..." You responded. Your voice a little shaky. "I see your not very confident for a princess." Caspian pointed out. "So you've noticed?" You responded. "I don't mind. I actually like it. Most royalty is overly confident. All the power gone to their head." Said Caspian. "I'm glad there's some royalty not like that." Caspian added with a smile. "Yeah..." You said quietly. You and Caspian talked for a while. When it was s finally time to leave, you changed back into your plain clothing and took the fancy dress with you. You and Caspian would meet up with each other everyday for the next few weeks. With every second you felt the day that you'd have to kill Caspian grow nearer. With every second you regretted it more. Finally there was one day you were looking down on the town from a high up tower with Caspian. The view was beautiful. The gentle breeze blew through Caspian's hair as he looked at the beautiful sight. But he wasn't looking at the view. You looked over at Caspian, noticing he was staring at you. You softly blushed, looking back out the window. "(Y/n)?" Caspian said, his voice was almost a whisper. You looked back over to Caspian. You realize the day that you'd been dreading had finally come. But you forced a smile as Caspian looked at you with a smile, his dark colored eyes shining. "Yes Caspian?" You responded. "There's something I need to tell you." Caspian said. Your hands balled Intl gentle fists. Why did the day have to come. Especially since you'd fallen in love with Caspian. It would've been much easier if Caspian just wasn't so perfect. "And what would that be?" You asked as if you didn't know. Caspian grabbed both of your hands. He held them in his gently, he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand. No amount of time could've prepared you for this. "(Y/n). I love you." Caspian said staring directly into your (e/c) eyes. There was no hesitation in his voice. Though his cheeks were a soft pink. Your cheeks were burning red. You gulped. Caspian stood silently, waiting for your response. You looked off to the side before deciding to answer him. "I... I l-love you too." You said. You were telling the truth. You loved Caspian dearly. You just wished that you and Caspian could've met a different way. Instead of after being commanded to stab him when he kissed you. Caspian smiled happily. You felt like you were knocked out, and like you were falling apart. Caspian leaned closer. A thousand thoughts rushed through your head. The majority of them were something along the lines of. 'Not now! I don't want to kill him now!' But you didn't stop Caspian. How could you stop him anyway? Caspian pressed his lips against yours. A bubbly feeling went through your entire body. It felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. You kissed back softly. You'd almost forgotten Miraz's orders. Then you reached for the knife that Miraz always had you carry with you around Caspian. Your hand was shaky as it grabbed the hilt of the knife, and pulled the weapon out of the sheath. You raised the knife up behind Caspian's back. The blade was just inches away from touching Caspian's shirt. The knife shook gently in your hands. You raised the knife slightly, preparing to stab Caspian. Tears build up in your eyes as you thought about having to kill the man you were in love with. You just couldn't do it. You knife fell out of your hand. It hit the floor with a clank. Caspian pulled away from you and looked behind him, seeing the knife in to floor. "(Y/n)? What's going on?" Caspian asked, confused. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You stepped away from Caspian. Your body shook. You held back tears that threatened to fall. "I-I... I'm so sorry..." You said. You could barely talk as you continued to hold back tears. "For what?" Caspian asked. "F-For... Miraz, he ordered me to make you fall in love with me. And to stab you when you kissed me." You said. Caspian's eyes widened at your words. "But..." You said you choked back tears. But you failed. The look in Caspian's eyes softened as tears began to rolled down your face. "What?" Caspian asked softly. "I can't!" You almost yelled. Tears flowed down your cheeks. You cried out quietly. Your crying ceased as you felt Caspian held you to his chest. "What did he threaten to do?" Caspian asked. "To... To kill me, and my family, and my friends..." You answered. "And you aren't a princess are you?" Caspian asked. "No..." You responded quietly. "I don't care." Caspian stated. Caspian pulled you into another kiss. A more passionate one than the last. Your eyes fluttered shut as you kissed back. You felt relieved to be able yo kiss Caspian without having to worry about killing him. When Caspian pulled away he embraced you once more. "I won't let anything happen to you. Or the people you care about." Caspian whispered into your ear. You smiled. You felt safe in Caspian's arms. You didn't worry about the troubles that might come next. You just savored this moment.

PRIORITY OPS: REPOPULATING HELEUS (Ch. 5)

this chapter was really cathartic to write. ao3 link. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 5. Homesick 

Sara woke up with a start, hot and sweaty, gut churning. Considering what she’d spoken about with Liam when he’d woken her, it should have come to no surprise that her father had peppered the rest of her dreams. Even the ones that he quite rightly had nothing to do with. 

She tried, tried too hard, sometimes, to not think about her Milky Way life and what she’d left behind. She’d wanted to come to Andromeda, had wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps in more ways than one. She’d always dreamed of doing something spectacular with her life, and what could be more ground-breaking than travelling to a whole new galaxy? It was the pinnacle of exploration.  It was a exquisite example of being careful of what one wished for.

And then, there was her family; she could hardly have stayed behind and have abandoned her brother and dad. Especially not with Mom gone. They had to stick together. And look how that turned out. At least Scott was well on his way to making a full recovery; just having him around made the future seem that little bit more bearable. She hated the idea of being alone again, like she had in those beginning days, ill-prepared to fit into her father’s too-large shoes.

Of course, she had Liam, too, now. Relied on him more than she should. Hadn’t thought she’d be dating, so seriously, so soon, especially given how recently her last relationship had ended. But she hadn’t thought about her in months. At least not until her fevered dreams of the night prior.

Had she really dreamt about bringing her ex-girlfriend home to meet her parents? Ugh. It seemed like such a pointless fantasy. Her parents were dead and so was Ruby, in a manner of speaking. Just like Liam’s parents would be. A twist of nervousness settled in her gut and she found herself wondering, uselessly, if they would like her. 

She probably could stand to ask him more questions about his own parents. He seemed to be the type who’d love to talk about them, given the chance — a normal, loving family — but Sara had not offered the opportunity. Liam, quite sensibly, had not pushed the topic. It probably helped that he had, in fact, met her father well before he’d ever met her. 

Still, though. Sometimes it unsettled her how at peace Liam seemed to be with his decision to come to Andromeda, and maybe it was just Sara’s own unique circumstances, with her mother’s death so fresh on her mind, but she couldn’t imagine making the decision to never see her parents again. Maybe because she’d never had the choice. Maybe because she never would.

The pang of grief hit her as it usually did, sharp and unexpected, just beneath her ribcage. She rolled to her side, half-hoping that Liam would be there, but knowing given their usual day-to-day routine that he probably wouldn’t. 

She was right. Still, the realisation caused a smile to curve on her lips. How nice it was, to think that the dust had settled enough for things to become routine. And here she’d thought, before Andromeda, a lifetime ago, that she’d never want to settle down. It still didn’t come naturally to her, but god damn if her relationship with Liam didn’t make her want to believe such things were possible. 

She loved him; just thinking about him made her feel like someone had set a warm blanket down upon her, tucked her in. She loved him.  

It was too much warmth, really, for what she was about to do. Sara knew herself. She would drag out the mundane minutiae of her morning routine: breakfast; laps; shower; teeth for as long as possible before doing what she should have done as soon as she’d recovered it: watch her father’s final fucking memory once and for all. The thought sent chills down her spine, but she ignored them. She had to. The only alternative was to keep putting it off, to never look at it, and never know. And that was a decision in itself, but was it one she could live with?

(She knew, in her heart of hearts, that the answer was no.)  

***

“You seem distracted today,” Cora had told her at the end of their run. Sara had spent so much of it preparing herself, bracing herself, that her walls were already up. When they were, lying came as easy as breathing, the only time it did. It was always easier to be dishonest when she was trying, desperately, fervently, to convince herself it was the truth. 

“I’m fine,” she’d said with a hapless shrug. “Just more meetings, you know how it is. Being Pathfinder is a thankless job.” Especially now, that she spent more time with the human colonists than she did with her old ragtag band of assorted crewmates. Oh, the people here said the words, gratitude rolling off their tongues in waves, but it was just another falsehood at the end of the day. Wasn’t it? 

Wasn’t it?

She’d never wanted this responsibility. And when Cora had dug her heels in, reminded her of what an excellent job she was doing, she’d narrowed her eyes at the other woman, her friend, and asked, “A better job than you’d have done in my place?” 

And Cora had taken a step back in the face of Sara’s sudden aggression; neither of them wanted to revisit this old beat, rehash the same steps they’d been tracing since the passing of her father. “You already know my answer.” 

Sara hadn’t wanted to fight, so she hadn’t responded beyond pointing out that Hayjer and Vederia were both doing excellent work in their new and unexpected roles as Pathfinders for their respective species.  They did it. I did it. You could have done it, too.

She hadn’t been sure whose point she’d been proving, and she hated it. Hated how some days, she’d wake up and wish that this entire mess had been Cora’s to deal with instead. 

“See you later,” Sara had told her as they’d parted in the atrium, voice bright and cheery once more. Too cheery.

“Bye for now,” Cora had answered, casualness belied by the look in her eyes that spoke at volumes louder than her actual words. We’ll talk later. As she made her way to SAM node, she tried to stop her hands from shaking. 

*** 

There it was, the terrible truth, laid out bare at last. Ribcage had never felt such an apt term before; Sara honestly felt as though her lungs would explode if they could; they hurt, her chest hurt, everything hurt. She wanted to yell and to cry. She did neither. Her hands were numb, limp and useless by her sides, but she could sense them clawing at her heart, digging for words that could never be enough.

When she dragged them out, up and through her raw and burning throat, her voice sounded as though it belonged to someone else. Like she was watching a movie about someone else’s life. “Mom’s here? Alive?”

Maybe she should have been more concerned about the whispered hints of the end of life as they knew it. Those questions were there, somewhere, too, in the back of her mind. A smaller, younger voice: is the Milky Way okay? Or was the answer to that question the extinction of billions upon billions of lives, a number so large it could not be quantified? A number beyond the limits of her understanding?

SAM offered an explanation she barely heard, all stasis and blocked memories; the corners of Sara’s vision faded in and out as she forced herself to remember to breathe. Maybe billions of deaths were too surreal to consider, but one death — there was one death she could recall in almost flawless detail.

Mom’s.

She remembered being there with Dad and Scott during Mom's final hours. Remembered the ramping apprehension as they barrelled towards the inevitable; it had been a long time coming, but it had felt sudden all the same. As she’d steered Scott from the room to give their parents some privacy, part of her still couldn’t believe that it would be the last time she’d ever see her alive. They’d come back tomorrow, just like they had yesterday, and the day before.

But then Dad had entered the hallway, head hung low, and Sara had known in that moment, that it was done. She’d finally cried, the tears that had been threatening to spill making themselves known at last. And Scott…well, Scott had always been a messy crier.

Dad hadn’t cried though. Dad never cried.

But she still remembered the way his hands had shaken at the funeral.

Thinking about it made her ill, a low simmering anger starting to burn bright in her belly. “This never should’ve been kept a secret,” she said, her voice marginally more furious than it had been earlier but still oh-so-far away.

SAM tried to placate her, but in that moment, she didn’t give a shit about false hopes.  Would prefer them, infinitely, to false grief. And that was when SAM slipped the knife into her chest, his words, calm and even, still as sharp as any blade. And that’s why you were made Pathfinder — to see the process through.

She’d suspected it, had been anticipating it, but God, it hurt to have confirmation that she’d never been anything special. Close as her father and Cora might have been, he wouldn't have trusted Cora with this. Sara blinked, once, twice, wondering if she’d ever feel whole again, or if she’d just be stuck thinking her body was going to split into two for the rest of her life.

Mom’s still alive. The words buzzed around her brain. For all her hesitation, all her wondering, she could have never anticipated this. At least Dad didn’t disappoint. Not in this regard. She’d told Liam just last night that it sounded like her father had done something horrible.

Had he?

He hadn't and he had and Mom’s still alive. I hope you’ll understand he’d said, but she didn’t.

He should have told us. The thought rattled through her, shook the very core of her being, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice it. It wasn’t like he was around to defend himself. Maybe he’d thought he was saving Mom by bringing her here, but at what cost?

Her legs felt like jelly.

Alec could not bear the thought of Ellen recovering only to discover you had died.

And so he had died instead; she had witnessed his dying actions with his eyes, listened to his last words with his ears: there’s still hope for your mother.

But what of her? What of Sara Ryder? Had her father truly understood what he had done, when he had transferred SAM’s full suite of abilities to her, named her Pathfinder in his stead? Or were his thoughts only of Mom, the mother Sara had been led to believe was dead? Did he think his daughter up to the challenge, or did he only require her loyalty?

Any pride she’d once had in her achievements turned to ashes in her mouth. Her father must have loved her mother a lot, to go to this extent to save her life. She hadn’t doubted that, but she found herself thinking about whether she’d go to the same extremes for Liam. She didn’t think so. But she didn’t know. Thinking of Liam reminded her of his words from last night (had it only been last night? It felt like longer, days stretching into years into centuries).

Most parents would die for their children.

Alec Ryder hadn’t been most parents.

Most parents would die for their children.

Had he died for his daughter, or for his wife?

It was just another question that Sara didn’t want the answer to. Which meant that one day, she probably, unfortunately, would. It had always been like that with Dad. Even in his death, he was maddeningly consistent.

The walls of the room seemed to close in around her. She needed to find Mom. Now. Told SAM as such, as though he wouldn’t be coming with her.

*** 

Her message to Scott was short and devoid of emotion. The letters on her omni-tool swam before her eyes. She’d triple-checked them, made sure they delivered some sort of coherent message. But she couldn’t read them. Reading them made it real.

Fortunately, Scott knew when to ask questions, and he knew Sara well enough to know that in this case? Time was of the essence. That wasn't to say that the questions wouldn’t come later. But that was something she would worry about then: later.

Now she just had to take the final step towards learning the truth, and hopefully the first step towards accepting it. Scott was already waiting by the cryo pod when she arrived; her walk through the Hyperion had been slow and awful, like she’d dragged her feet through mud while carrying a thirty kilogram weight upon her back. She wore everyone’s eyes were on her the whole time, but then again, when weren’t they?

At least she wasn't crying. She was the human Pathfinder, and what example would she be to those who looked up to her for guidance if she started crying in public? Scott knew her moods too well to not pick up her on obvious upset. He also knew her well enough to know when not to stick his nose in, even though it was one of his favourite pastimes. Despite all his claims to the contrary. His eyes flickered to hers, brow creased in concern, but he didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t reach out to her. Just business. “Who’s Elizabeth Reilly?”

And maybe she should have milked it a bit more, stirred him up with some grandiose statement. But she didn’t have the energy. She was hollowed out and exhausted and she wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and wake up three hours ago and forget that this had ever happened.

But she couldn’t. “It’s Mom,” she whispered. She hated how stupid the words sounded, the way Scott looked at her as though he was torn between asking her to repeat herself and asking her if she was joking.

The truth spilled out of her in spits and spurts, unable to be contained but reluctant all the same.  She watched Scott vacillate between pain and joy, reconcile the information the same way she’d been struggling to do. “I want to shake his hand. And then punch him!”

And she laughed, because she understood that feeling entirely. Looked up at the pod that contained Mom. Did she know that she would be coming here? Sara couldn’t help but think that she didn’t. No-one was ever truly ready to die, or so Sara felt, but Mom had made her peace with her fate all the same. She’d told them to take care of each other. Surely she wouldn’t have said that if there was any possibility of her coming back.

Dad had brought her to Andromeda to seek a cure for her illness. And now Dad was dead. It didn’t seem fair, somehow. But nothing ever was. SAM was endlessly optimistic, but how could he not be? He was created by Dad. He’d been created by Dad to save Mom. When he started to tell them that her accomplishments could one day save Mom’s life, Sara struggled to believe him.  The fact of the matter was she couldn’t have done half of what she’d done in Heleus without SAM.

“Waking her up will be fun,” Sara said softly, retreating into sarcasm at the sheer ludicrousness of it all. “Surprise, Mom! You’re still alive! Dad put you on ice!” The last statement was punctuated with a scoff. One one hand she couldn’t believe Dad had done it, really done it. On the other hand, Dad was, well, Dad…

Scott chimed in, right on cue. “Oh, and by the way — look out the window. You’re in Andromeda!”

Sara had missed Scott. She really had. Even if he did drive her absolutely up the wall at times. She bumped him carefully with her shoulder, a casual touch. They smiled up at Mom’s cryo pod together. One day, when the time was right, maybe just maybe, they’d be able to wake her up. It still felt wrong, somehow, but knowing what they knew? They couldn’t very well leave her in there.

And then there was SAM. The AI had a vested interest in the survival of their mother as well. Sara forgot as easily as she remembered. It is a mission I hope the three of us will one day fulfil — together. Togethere. Sara and Scott and Sam.

She wondered when, exactly, she had started to consider SAM family.

It was still weird to think that SAM had been crafted for a specific purpose when so much of her own life had felt like a series of awkward blunders, or making the best of a bad situation. Then again, SAM had learnt so much that had nothing to do without his original goals. And wasn't that life in a nutshell? All the things that one learnt, experienced, overcame in the pursuit of a set of aims?

They was halfway out of the cryo bay when SAM spoke to her over their private channel. “Yes, Sara, I do believe it is.”

***

Whatever small joy she had derived from her conversation with Scott withered in her veins as she found herself mostly alone again. Alone, except for SAM, wired to her consciousness as he was. “You are experiencing a heightened level of anxiety,” he told her as she approached the desk in her father’s room, all sprawled out monitors and scattered datapads.

Sara still hadn’t brought it upon herself to rearrange the space. “No shit, SAM,” she muttered in response, heart beating loud, thunderously, erratically. SAM fell silent and Sara felt guilty. He’s just trying to help. There were more terrible truths to be unearthed at the tips of her fingers.

She got SAM to play the first message, the second, the third. As she listened to the emergency transmissions of desperate armies, her skin turned to ice, the roar of her heart dampening. Her vision was blurring at the corners again and she found herself clutching at the edge of the desk to anchor herself.

Three points of contact. Her boots were on the floor. She was in the Pathfinder’s quarters of the ark Hyperion. The Hyperion made up most of the current settlement of Port Meridian. Port Meridian was named for the planet itself. Meridian was the fourth planet of the Saajor system. The Saajor system was located in the Heleus cluster. Her name was Sara Ryder, she was in Andromeda, and she was alive.

Blue sparks danced across her skin.

Cora had once compared biotics to a sneeze. At the time, Sara had thought it an apt descriptor. But now? Now, she’d characterise it as the urge to throw up. Better out than in, given a suitable target. Her hands were shaking. So were her shoulders.

Everyone is dead. 

There were two messages left, blinking at her from the terminal in the corner of her eye. Bile rose up her throat. She was flaring, losing control in a way she hadn’t done in years.

“Pathfinder,” SAM hedged, almost uncertain. SAM didn’t do uncertainty. “I believe you are having a panic attack. If you would like, I could—”

The implications of SAM’s offer broke through Sara’s reduced consciousness. “No, don’t you—” 

“Understood.”

Her hands curled into fists atop the desk, angry clammy palms.

Everyone is dead. 

The Milky Way as she knew it was gone.

She sunk to her knees at the console, hands still holding on for dear life. “The rest,” she demanded, because she’d come this far. This time, SAM did not question her.

A conversation between Jien Garson and her father, his parting words to her: I guess we always knew there was no going back.  The message ended. There was nothing more.

She crumbled, sinking to the floor at last, knees drawn to her chest, head resting down against her forearm. She didn’t know how long she sat there for before she even had the clarity to try and control her breath.

She’d been hyperventilating, of course. SAM had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d shut him down, and she was far too prideful to ask him for his assistance now. Instead, she inhaled in, counted to four, exhaled one-two-three-four. Her biotic corona shrunk somewhat as she battled to get her processes back under control.

I guess we always knew there was no going back.

Her father’s voice rang through her head, and she felt the anxiety spike through her system again. The surge of adrenaline had her back on her feet without really thinking about it, a troubling sign if she’d stopped to consider it more deeply, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.  The weight of her own malfunctioning powers was crushing, crushing, crushing.

Everything in the room reminded her of her father. His guns. Who he'd been. The model ships. Where he'd taken them. The goddamn coffee machine. Of what he’d done to save them.

She let go, pouring all of her grief and her rage and her fear with her biotic release, the machine slamming against the opposite wall with a satisfying crash, if only she’d been present enough to properly appreciate it. It shattered into pieces and Sara wasn’t sure how, but she found herself settling down amongst them, biotic powers now back under control and her breath steadying.

Sitting in the ruins of her father's coffee machine, Sara wept. 

[bangtan; HP!au] crackle like a dragon’s fire

|| WIZARDINGBIAS - where your fave bands live in hakho’s hogwarts au ||

crackle like a dragon’s fire jungkook-centric || pg-13 || 1.6k || harry potter au, mentions of death, mentions of abuse, mystery, happy ending

↳ In which Jeongguk runs away from home, bringing only his trunk and his owl with him into the dead of the night.

crossposted to ao3

There’s barely any time to think. Jeongguk moves fast as balls of fiery green shoot across the living room. They burn large holes into the expensive tapestries and into the old, blue wallpaper. Jeongguk flinches with every large crack, ducking his head just in case the man in the kitchen has seen him.

His heart pounds harshly against his ribcage, adrenalin pumping through his veins like unsettled waves. He’s nervous, scared for his life, more scared than he has ever been and probably ever will be.

The man keeps missing, aim completely off as he waves his wand haphazardly. He’s been drinking - it’s obvious with the way it reeks even from this far away, and Jeongguk had scrammed as soon as he’d heard the first shout of his name.

“Where are you, you useless child?!” the man yells, and another orb of green fire flings into the vitrine cabinet, shattering dozens of antique china. Jeongguk can only imagine what his grandparents would say to that, and he’s suddenly filled to the brim with shame and guilt for having caused the rage to destroy sacred Mason memorabilia.

Jeongguk resists the urge to stand up and yell back at the sorry excuse of a man, and crawls quietly to the other side of the room, hiding behind an old study desk. It’s dark in the room and with the way the man can barely see anything through his haze, Jeongguk should be able to escape into the hallway and up the stairs without trouble.

The indecipherable yelling seizes, and Jeongguk’s breath hitches. Green orbs no longer light up the room in burning flashes, but that doesn’t comfort him at all. He wills his breathing to slow, holding his breath as footsteps walk around slowly, deliberately. It’s all a game of scaredy cat, Jeongguk understands, as the man sets the heel of his boots down slowly with every step.

“Come out, come out, where ever you are,” the man sings tauntingly, and Jeongguk can hear the sleazy smirk in his voice like a knife in his ears. Jeongguk will never get used to that voice, will always have it haunt him even when he thinks he’s safe. It’s been sixteen years of that voice toying in his ears, twelve since that voice had become a nightmare, and the sickly sweet baritone is engraved in Jeongguk’s skin like a burning scar.

He swallows the sick that threatens to rise.

“I know you’re in here,” the man continues, but he’s nowhere near Jeongguk. The man has taken steps into the drawing room, his voice echoing through the thin walls of the house, and Jeongguk counts the steps, one, two, three, four, until he knows the man is standing by the far window.

That’s when he stands up, carefully peeking beyond the mahogany wood of the desk, to then sneak his way into the hallway. His breath seizes for a minute as he catches a glimpse of the man’s back, broad and muscular even after all these years, and for a moment, it looks like the man Jeongguk had once admired when he was four, sturdy and secure in his military uniform. He tears his eyes away from the man’s back before he’s caught, and carefully tiptoes up the stairs.

He’s almost all the way up when the footsteps begin moving again, slow and deliberate like the baseline of a horror movie build up. Jeongguk stops in his tracks, making himself flat against the wall as he listens.

“You know, your magical signature has always been awfully strong, Jeongguk,” the man plays with the words like he’s juggling knives, “I never understood why, you filthy half-blood,” the way he says the insult with venom is guttural, and Jeongguk bites back his anger, “Your mother was a disgusting muggle. So why do you crackle like a dragon’s fire, child?”

Jeongguk swallows harshly.

The footsteps are right below him in the drawing room, if he takes a step now he’ll be caught for sure, so he stays put, prays the man will walk into the next parlour instead.

Like a preying animal, the man sniffs the air loudly, searching for Jeongguk’s magical scent. There’s nothing he can do other than hope the man’s drunken enough to block out his nose, but something in Jeongguk’s mind tells him this is all just a game.

Eventually, the footsteps move away towards the next parlour, and Jeongguk can finally take the last three steps up the stairs to rush to his bedroom. He’s memorised all the places where the floorboards don’t creak, and takes extra caution to step on only those. His weight is heavier than the last time he’d had to run like this, back then he had been a scrawny fifteen year old, and his shoes clank harshly on one board. Jeongguk freezes up, waiting for the sounds of the man to continue, but the footsteps stop for a moment and so does Jeongguk’s heart. His throat clogs up as he waits, forcing him to breathe through his nose as quietly as possible, and only allows himself to take a deep breath when footsteps start up again.

“You were always such a rowdy kid, full of energy. You would’ve been the perfect Mason heir, Jeongguk, if it weren’t for your tainted blood.” The accented voice reverberates through the house, vibrating through Jeongguk’s limbs as he moves forward.

There’s a need inside Jeongguk to yell from the top of his lungs how no one cares about blood status anymore, that it’s old fashioned and there are barely any pureblooded wizard left. It boils anger within his veins thinking about it, and Jeongguk clenches his fists to keep it in. It doesn’t matter what blood one has, Jeongguk wants to yell fiercely. It’s unjustified, horrendously unfair above all else, and not a single bit noble as the man thinks.

Quickly and quietly, Jeongguk racks his things up when he’s in his room. He’s barely had the time to unpack any of his things from yesterday, and shuts his trunk carefully. The click of the lock is too loud, he feels, and his heart pounds harder in his chest.

“I wasn’t supposed to touch your mother. It was a mistake, creating you,” the knife like voice continues, teetering on the edge of taunting laughter. Jeongguk hates how it gets to him, filters in through his ears like sharp stings that never end. The guttural drawl of his Durmstrang accent slicing deep into Jeongguk bones like it always does. “She was useless, just like you. A muggle!” he laughs loudly, “It’s a good thing I got rid of her, isn’t it, my boy?”

Blood boils within Jeongguk to the point of pain as he clenches his fists into tight balls, blunt nails digging deep into his palms, enough to almost draw blood. He refuses to answer back, ignores the taste of filth in his mouth at the words. How can a man say with such innocent sweetness all those vicious words and think it’s amusing. Jeongguk’s filled to the brim with hatred for this man, wants nothing more than to pull out his wand and Avada Kedavra the man himself, and if he had been a little bit younger, he would’ve, without regard to Azkaban or death.

But Jeongguk seizes, forces himself to stand and pull out his wand for a different reason. With the flick of his wrist, he gets his trunk to float silently through his bedroom and to the window.

“You’re a horrible man, father,” Jeongguk whispers as the window opens for the trunk to float out. Next, he flicks his wand to levitate Steff’s cage, careful not to wake the owl. Then, quietly, he climbs through the window with a heart full of anger. As he sits on the edge of the window, hands gripping tight to the window frame and to his wand, he casts one last look back at his bedroom.

His childhood bedroom, still as victorian and messy as it's always has been, with old books from Flourish and Blotts' second hand section by his four post and countless posters of old quidditch legends plastered on the pale blue walls. It’s almost funny how normal the bedroom looks.

“I’ll find you soon enough, filthy child,” rings through the house at that moment. Loud and clear and full of taunting laughter, but the authority behind it is clear, as if the great general Severin Mason still existed instead of the drunkard running around, and it sends a horribly cold shiver down Jeongguk’s sweaty back. Like juggling knives, the voice cuts through the house and into Jeongguk’s flesh, leaving new scars and old ones open, and hatred is the only thing Jeongguk can feel from his head to his toes. The laughing grit, the haunting, taunting singing in the man’s voice is that of one who likes nothing more than to play wicked games like an oversized child. No morals. No rules. Only cruelty and pain.

Soon enough, the wicked, knife juggling man will have no family, and Jeongguk doesn’t feel at all sad for the old man Mason, not when he gladly hops off the window frame and disappears into the dead of the night like he never lived there.

Revised story + part 5

Chapter 1

He stared at the barrel of my gun as he fell to his knees.

“You don’t have to do this.” He begged

Tears stung my eyes. I breathed deeply as I aimed the rifle at his head. “I wish that were true” I sobbed. Fear and sadness filled me. Hands shaking I pulled the trigger and with a loud bang it was over but the silence that came after was deafening.

“ Aurora! Hey earth to Aurora!”

I jolted out of my trance and looked around I was no longer holding a gun to Roman’s head and it was no longer silent. My heart ached after what I had just seen. Why had I seen that? Had I fallen asleep? A hand had suddenly touched my arm and it made me jump. My heart was about to burst out of my chest. I turned to see Roman sitting next to me. He’s eyes were full of concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked while tightening his grip on my arm.I observed his forehead but there was no bullet hole and he was completely oblivious to what I had just seen.

“I’m fine” I said but even I could tell it was unconvincing. But I was glad he didn’t push for information.

Through the rest of lunch Roman kept glancing over at me. At first it was a kind and confused look but by the end of lunch his looks weren’t concerned anymore but hateful and mischievous. Each time he looked over I could feel my heart speed up. Maddie seemed to notice that I was scared because she leaned over to me and whispered “let’s take a trip to the bathroom” her voice seemed shaky. I nodded quickly and stood up.

Roman reached up and grabbed my wrist and squeezed gently. “Where are you going?” He asked trying to seem concerned but it came out forced and got the attention of some of the people near by.

“I’m just going to the bathroom I’ll be right back” I said happily. Maybe it was too happy because his grip tightened. The adrenaline kicked in causing the floor to sway below my feet and my body to tingle. He looked around and finally noticed that he was causing a scene so he let go. I turned and walked as fast as I could to the bathroom with Maddie right on my heels. The floor still seemed to sway threatening to pull me down.

Once inside I turned to face Maddie as she move over to me and touched my arm where Roman had grabbed me. Her eyes moved from the mark his hands had caused to my eyes. Eyes give away everything, they are windows into the soul and her ocean blue eyes have always told me everything. “What just happened?” She said calmly. Her body and voice said she wasn’t worried but her eyes told me she was terrified.

“I don’t know” and that was the truth I didn’t know what was wrong with him but if I told her about…… my vision?…….my day dream? She would think I was crazy. Maddie was staring at me as if waiting for me to tell her more. “I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with him, he’s never been like this I swear he’s a good boyfriend” I said but it sounded as if I was trying to convince myself. I was so caught up in thinking about the scene that had played out in my head I hadn’t realized I was shaking.

Maddie grabbed my shoulder to stabilize me then stated “well that bruise forming on your wrist says otherwise.” She said looking me up and down. Her eyes reconnected with mine and as if she had a moment of realization she gasped “did you….see something?” That question had taken me by surprise and my heart began to pound so hard I was afraid she could hear it.

“You know? How?” I mumbled both afraid and relieved. A smile suddenly spread across her face and she hugged me. I was to shocked to hug her back or even speak.

“We’ve been waiting for this! Now all we need is Lucus!” She exclaimed with the widest smile I’ve ever seen. Her smile was contagious even though the situation was confusing.

I smiled back at her with an excitement filling me but it felt…….different. “Wait? What have we been waiting for?” I questioned what was happening.

Maddie moved to the door without answering my question but I stayed put. She turned and Gestured for me to follow her and walked out of the bathroom. I lingered in front of the mirror. Something felt weird about this, especially the sudden happiness that had come and gone so quickly. I decided not to follow Maddie but what was I going to do. I no longer felt safe here at school. I started to think of all that could go wrong. All the weirdness I now felt when I thought about Maddie or Roman. I needed to leave before Maddie discovered I wasn’t following her and came back to convince me to go with her. I came to the conclusion it was best if I went home.

Chapter 2

Opening the door to my home a sudden warmth and comfort washed over me. I felt much better now that I was in a familiar space. A place where I could finally catch my breath and think things over. Mom and dad always worked late so I would be home alone for awhile, not that I minded. I enjoyed being home alone where I could do whatever I wanted and nobody would know what I did. This was the one place I could control what happened.Before walking up the stairs to my room I kicked off my shoes and set my things down by the door. 

The digital clock on my bedside table read 2:00. The clothes I was wearing were dirty and sweaty from the walk home. I picked out a pair of sweats and my old school chorus T-shirt. I pulled off my shirt and pants before pulling on the fresh clothing. I thought about watching T.V. to kill the time but it wasn’t really appealing at the moment. Instead I moved over to the bookshelves and pulled out one of my favorite books “A Wrinkle In Time”. I moved to the window seat and sat down. I wrapped myself in a blanket and settled in. This has always been my favorite place to be. If there was ever a fight or if I had a hard day this was the place you’d find me. Curled up with a good book. In the winter I would watch the snow dance through the air or in spring I’d watch the rain fall, listening to the pitter patter on the roof. Before opening the book I stared out the window, observing my front yard. Perched on top of our trash can was a black cat. I’ve seen him before. He hangs around the house a lot so I’ve started to call him Lucky. He was a beautiful cat with long black fur and he had the most graceful posture. The thing that made him so unique was the fact that he had one blue eye and one green! Without warning his head whipped to the side as if something had startled him. He jumped from his spot and ran down the street. I was a little confused on what had scared him but didn’t give it a second thought. I opened my book and began to read but I decided that I was only going to read a few chapters then I would do something productive before my parents got home so they wouldn’t be as upset with me for ditching school.

A sudden crash from downstairs made me jump and pulled me out of the story. I guess I had lost track of time because the Digital clock on the bedside table now read 4:30. I waited for another noise to tell me that someone was downstairs. 

I began to think that it had been my imagination until the second noise came. The sound of footsteps came from downstairs. I untangled myself from my blanket and moved to my dresser. Opening the drawer I immediately saw what I was looking for, my dads old hunting knife. I knew it was sharp so it was perfect. 

Cautiously I approached the stairs, careful not to make any noise that could alert the intruder. I reached the bottom step and I could no longer hear anything moving. I started to panic, my heart racing. I looked around the living room and decided it was a stupid idea a leave my room. I should have just called the cops and hid. I turned around to go back to my room and my heart dropped. A man about 6 feet tall with a broad frame stood on the stair above me. He had blond hair and his eyes were completely black, even the whites were black. He smiled an evil smile that sent chills down my spine. Before I even had a chance to make a move his foot met my chest and I fell sliding across the floor. The wind had been knocked out of me but I still stood up in hopes to escape. 

The man grabbed the back of my shirt and flung me into the wall. He held me up with one hand around my neck. I was gasping for air and my body was on fire. Tears streamed from my eyes and black spots filled my vision like salt and pepper on a tv. In that moment I remembered that I had my knife. I thrust it aimlessly in his direction. 

Finally the blade met flesh and I was released. I fell to the floor and drank in the air. My entire body weak and burning. With my vision coming back I could see him clearly again. The knife was stuck in his chest and dark red blood trickled from the wound. The blade wasn’t even visible anymore and I felt a little relief in knowing I had a chance now. He looked down and grabbed the handle. Without hesitation he ripped the blade out of his chest and let it fall to the floor. 

He looked back at me, his smile still plastered to his face, and said “Was that supposed to hurt?” I could hear my heart speed up. Shocked I whimpered. His eyes were pools of evil and his voice held no emotion.

He laughed but it was a cold laugh that sent chills up my spine. “How cute” he said. He lunged at me like a hungry animal but before his hands could reach me a black blur knocked him out of the way. I stumbled backwards, catching my self before I could fall. I could now see a large black wolf standing over my attacker. It turned to look at me and every part of my body told me to run but fear held me in place.

A disembodied voice suddenly pierced the silence “RUN AURORA! MADDIE WILL MEET YOU OUTSIDE!” Maddie? I searched for the person who had told me to run but I saw none. The voice had sounded panicked and hard. I decided to obey and ran for the back door.

I made it to the steps on the porch before Maddie appeared from around the side of the house. She looked frazzled. Her hair was frizzy and messy unlike that afternoon at school. She was sweating and out of breath. She said nothing and grabbed my hand pulling me towards the gate in the fence. If we hadn’t been in danger I would have stopped and demanded answers. We made it to the top of the overgrown ditch behind my house. Maddie was running faster than I could and she still had a strong grip on my hand. I couldn’t keep up! She pulled me harder and I fell. I rolled down the hill into the ditch. My body felt every rock and bump.

After reaching the bottom I sat up quickly. My whole body was throbbing. I saw Maddie moving down the hill towards me. She kneeled next to me and began to apologize profusely.

“It’s fine.” I said to reassure her. I moved to get up and Maddie grabbed my arm to help me up.

“Are ….you hurt?” She asked as she looked for any sign of injuries. Before I could reply Maddie spotted some blood leaking through my shirt. She reached down and pulled up my shirt up revealing a gash that moved diagonally across the left side of my abdomen. 

She gasped “oh my gosh!” She exclaimed “I’m so sorry” she murmured.

“It’s okay really! It’s just a scratch.” I lied. It hurt a lot and was bleeding badly. That didn’t seem to assure her though because her eyebrows were knit together in worry. The silence between us became awkward when a screech erupted from my house. It didn’t sound human. It was horrific and whatever that was it was coming for me.

Chapter 3

Even though my side burned from the cut and I was still bare foot we I ran. Maddie was at my side and she was leading me to safety. My feet were sore from running through the ditch bare foot but Maddie seemed to know where we were going so I didn’t question it. I could hear footsteps rushing at us from behind. I knew Maddie heard them too because she stopped and moved in front of me. She was in a protective stance and had pulled a gun out of her belt. To see Maddie with a gun was so out of character that I wasn’t even sure that this was Maddie. The bushes in front of us began to move before the wolf from the house jumped out.

“Oh lord Lucas you gave us a heart attack!” Maddie exclaimed. She put the gun down and her whole body relaxed. 

The wolf form began to change and suddenly he was human. I gasped in surprise and took a step back. I must have hit my head hard because I was seeing things. 

“Hello Aurora, its nice to finally meet you. I am Lucas your familiar.” He said. His voice was the same as the voice who had told her to run. “Im sorry to have scared you two.” He said sounding only half apologetic but mostly sarcastic.

“Look I’m sure that your a nice person and all but I think that this is completely crazy. Can you please just take me home.” I said. Maddie and Lucas look at each other with a look that made me realize that maybe that wasn’t an option.

“We would take you home if we could but now that your powers have started to show your house is a hot spot so its not safe.” Maddie stated. I don’t know whether or not to believe her. She has been my best friend since 7th grade but even this was too crazy for me. How much do I really know about Maddie? I mean today reveled how much I don’t know about her. Im sure there is tons more I don’t know about.

“Im also really sorry I came off so strong after you had that whole thing happen to you at lunch. It must have been really overwhelming.” Maddie stammered.

“Calm down Maddie that wasn’t your fault.” Lucas mumbled.

“No its not okay Lucas! If I hadn’t scared her away she would have never have been put in danger!” Maddie cried a tear made its way down her cheek. Suddenly I felt an overwhelming need to cry. I felt a wave of sorrow and tears began to leave my eyes. But this felt weird. Why would I be sad? Maddie was the one who was upset. Im a failure. I will never be as good as the rest of them. I almost messed up everything! Its all my fault. 

Tears were now flowing from both our eyes but neither of them seemed to notice me crying to. Maddie was distraught and Lucas was to busy trying to calm her to notice.    

I don't believe any of it. He’s lying to me. Ill never be anything important. This was my chance to prove that Im worth something and I messed it up. I was to busy thinking about how they would praise me that I wasn’t worried about Aurora. Wait a minuet these thoughts, they aren’t mine. I don’t understand whats happening. Closing my eyes I tried to think of where these thoughts might be coming from. Oh my goodness! These thoughts weren’t mine and I’m not the sad one, Maddie is and these are her thoughts. Wait but thats crazy. I realized that the thoughts were gone and both Lucas and Maddie were staring. I was on the ground with a tear streaked face. My hands were squeezed together so hard that they began to turn white. I looked up at them and breathed out not realizing I was also holding my breath.

“Are you okay?” Maddie asked.

“The question isn't if I’m okay, the question to be asking is are you okay?” I replied. This was obviously not the answer either of them were expecting because both of their eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Maddie asked. Her hands found her pockets meaning that she was nervous.

“Im about to sound as crazy as you two do but I could feel what you were feeling and I could kinda hear your thoughts but it was weird.” I replied. Maddie looked dumbstruck.

“What so you mean weird?” Lucas asked pulling my attention from Maddie.

“I mean at first I thought they were my own thoughts and feelings.” I said realizing I sounding insane.

“Interesting” Lucas said “So this means you have empathic powers!” He seemed to be excited by this which confused me.

“What do you mean interesting!” I shouted. I didn’t know what was happening and that scared me. My life leading up to this has been so predictable but now I had no idea what was going to happen next. I don’t like this feeling. I mean I’ve never been able to control the things in my life but at least I had an idea what might happen. 

“Look we will explain everything in the car okay?” Maddie suggested. I was too stressed to reply so instead I just nodded my head. She smiled and gestured for me to follow. I took a deep breath to ground myself and followed her.

Chapter 4

We finally arrived at a dirt parking lot of a nearby park. There was only one car in the lot so I assumed that it was their car. It was a really old jeep that was pretty beat up. It had blue paint that had been chipped in multiple places. They walked over to the car and Lucas opened the passenger door for me. When I got in he shut the door and moved around the front of the car to the drivers seat. Maddie got into the back and smiled at me. 

“Okay so you said that you would tell me everything so someone better start explaining.” I demanded. Lucas sighed and looked into the rear view mirror at Maddie. She gave a quick nod.

“Okay.” Lucas said “We should probably start with who I am. I am what they call a familiar.” He stated.

“Wait isn’t that a witches black cat?” I asked. This seemed to amuse him because a smile formed on his face. It was a sweet and comforting smile. I relaxed a little bit. 

“Yes thats exactly what a familiar is but most movies and lure have it wrong.” He laughed. 

“Oh yeah? Then tell me what a familiar really is.” I said matching his amused look.

“Well we are not only a witches best friend but their protector. When we are born we are not assigned a witch like a lot of movies suggest.” He claimed

“Hmmm then how do witches get their familiars?” I questioned throwing away any previous knowledge on the matter.

“We choose our witch.” He explained.

“Wait!” I said “You said earlier that you were my familiar.” He smiled again and nodded his head but I nearly noticed as I was trying to wrap my head around everything. “But thats not possible because that would mean that I’m a witch!” I exclaimed.

“Yes” Lucas said “But you are not……a normal witch.” He murmured as if he didn’t want to tell me.

“What could be more bizarre than me being……a witch!” I shouted. I could feel my emotions starting to get out of hand. I looked at Lucas but he didn’t answer me. I turned around in my seat to make eye contact with Maddie. 

“Your a hybrid.” Maddie whispered refusing to make eye contact with me “Your half witch half angel.” She said our eyes finally connecting. I could feel the car heat up and the world around me began to spin. Everything I had ever known was a lie! All the emotions I had been locking up suddenly burst out of their cage. I felt hot tears stream down my face. Panic filled my mind. I couldn’t breathe! It was like a I was under water and the world around me disappeared. I was alone and drowning in my own fear. Suddenly hands were on my shoulders. I could feel the panic starting to subside and the world around me was no longer water. I was in the car with Maddie in the back seat and Lucas was leaning over the center console grabbing me.

“Aurora! Are you okay?” Lucas stammered his eyes clouded with worry. “Im sorry! We shouldn’t have overwhelmed you with all that information. Lets just go back to the base and you can rest. We will tell you the rest later okay?” He suggested. I was too tiered from the days events to argue so I just nodded in agreement and sat back.