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aethon-recs · 10 months

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Tomarrymort Intermediate Pack — 16 Longfic Recs

As a follow-up to the Tomarrymort starter pack rec list, I put together a list of Intermediate Reads that are best enjoyed with a bit of context about the ship. If you’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a while, or have read everything in the starter pack, this next set of recs is for you.

These recs feature a sampling of different authors than the first list, with an emphasis on underrated fic that I think deserve more recognition (hard to define, but for the most part, I tried to find fics with fewer than 2000 kudos). So I hope that even for the readers who’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a long time, there’s something new in here to discover.

This is Part 2 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1, and Part 3 will be an Advanced reading list that will feature works of a more challenging nature). In the meantime, please enjoy these additional 1.8 million words of wonderful Tomarrymort fic.

Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 136k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years. Why I rec it: A haunting psychological horror where the truth slowly creeps up on Harry that his domestic life with his devoted partner Gaunt is not as idyllic as it initially appears. The twisting, unhinged depths of Voldemort’s obsession in this fic are so beautifully portrayed. There were chills that ran down my spine as Harry starts to get his memories back and the mystery of what happened starts to unravel. I love the pacing in this fic — there’s no one big reveal; it’s a slowly unfolding sequence that gets delightfully darker and more fucked-up as the fic progresses.

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes (E, 66k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Tom Riddle appears in London the morning of Voldemort’s defeat, with the last thing he remembers from 1944, and quickly realizes that Harry Potter is the key to all the answers that he’s looking for. Why I rec it: A light-hearted take on the identity porn trope, full of playful banter and delightfully charged chemistry between Harry and Tom. It’s usually Harry who’s thrown back through time, so it’s fun to see Tom scramble to figure out what’s going on when he’s pulled forward into Harry’s time. It’s also fun to see Harry try every avenue to prove that this mysterious new Tom is the Tom Riddle, even as he ends up hitting dead ends, and subsequently falls so deep into his obsessive tendencies that he refuses to let Tom out of his sight.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry after the final battle and decides to break him — not with torture, but with pleasure and softness. Why I rec it: The soft, creepy non-con in here is so memorable and excellent! Voldemort takes a different approach to breaking in his horcrux than what we usually see, and this particular approach leads to such delicious and hot smut scenes between them wherein Harry utterly succumbs to all the softly pleasurable attentions. I can never get enough of darkly twisted captive Harry stories and all the ways that Voldemort keeps Harry isolated and utterly reliant on him. I gasped out loud at the part where Voldemort made it so that Harry can only speak Parseltongue — this exactly the kind of fucked-up content that is so perfect and fitting for this ship.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry returns to Hogwarts after the war for eighth year, and he’s the only person in the castle who can see and talk to the ghost of Tom Riddle. Why I rec it: This fic completely destroyed me. The story unfolds in such a poignant and haunting way — it feels like the most natural thing for Harry to feel such a strong connection with Tom and fall in love with him as the year progresses. The angst in here is so delicately layered and beautifully portrayed — Harry’s feelings are muddled with a growing hope that Tom doesn’t have to move on to the afterlife and the desperation that he feels when he realizes they’re running out of time — such that the emotional beats will end up resonating for a long time after you’ve finished reading this fic.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 124k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If a series of gruesome murders 10 years after the war has Harry and the rest of the Aurors completely stumped, and Harry figures out how to bring Voldemort back from beyond the Veil in exchange for his help in solving the murders. Why I rec it: This is a spectacular and richly layered murder mystery featuring incredibly complex character dynamics and gorgeously lavish prose. I am blown away at the sophistication of the storytelling here — we get to delve into Voldemort’s past and so many hidden layers of his character, as well as how Harry has been handling the ‘picture-perfect’ life he’s always wanted after the war (in short: not well) — and in between, following all the clues and disparate threads of a mysterious serial killer case that could be its own standalone casefic! One of the most impressively sweeping pieces of writing I’ve seen in this ship, and there isn’t an element of this fic that I don’t absolutely adore.

Perfect Places by @skaelds (NR, 72k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort dies in the Final Battle, and then wakes up in a strange house with no one but Harry Potter for company, and there is no way for either of them to get out. Why I rec it: I absolutely love the trapped-in-a-room trope, and how Voldemort and Harry have to work out their differences if they want to have any hope of getting out. I adore that the entire fic is told from Voldemort POV — his arrogance and his malevolence and his rage and the utter force of his emotions are so palpable. The emotional journey in this fic is so intense from beginning to end, as they eventually come around to an understanding about each other and figure out a way out.

Promises, Promises (part 1) / Dreams in the Dark (part 2) by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is accidentally thrown back in time to Tom’s 6th year, and then suffers a bout of amnesia from a memory-loss spell and can’t remember anything about Tom Riddle or why he spent all semester trying to avoid him. Why I rec it: A brilliant fast burn featuring amnesia trope and tons of delicious dubcon. Tom is at his manipulative peak here, as he tries every underhanded technique to first figure out exactly what is going on with that new transfer student Harry Evans, and then when he’s figured it out, doing everything he can to keep Harry within his grasp. I cannot say enough about how hot the smut is throughout this 2-part series — so many layers of dubcon and manipulation that blew me away at every turn.

Sunspots by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 249k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry grows up in the muggle world without realizing he has magic, but he suspects there’s a bigger world out there because he’s had recurring dreams featuring Tom’s horcruxes his entire life. Why I rec it: One of the most unique takes on a book 1 rewrite that I’ve ever seen. First of all, the characters are aged up to college-age, and since Hogwarts starts at 18 here rather than at 11, there’s a lot of character dynamics that are possible to explore with older characters that aren’t possible with 11-year-olds. Secondly, Harry has access to each of Tom’s horcruxes through a magical dreamscape dimension he can access in his sleep, and he has unique and distinct relationships with each of them, including (the main) Voldemort, so there’s a lot of fascinating and multi-faceted Harry and Tom dynamics. Also, the descriptions of magic in this fic are just stunning; it’s clear that a lot of thought went into the magical worldbuilding here that makes you feel as excited and awestruck by the concept of magic as reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 69k, WIP)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is sent back to the 1940s, just after Tom Riddle has graduated from Hogwarts, on a mission to stop Tom becoming Voldemort and imperiling the world of magic. Why I rec it: I love the mutually obsessive chemistry here as Harry and Tom quickly fall into each other’s thrall as their relationship heats up. The writing style is so poetic and beautiful, and I find myself rereading many sentences over again just to fully absorb the impact and beauty of @noumena-writes’ words. Even as Harry becomes increasingly entwined with Tom, he’s never blind to who Tom is, and he’s able to strike back with just as much viciousness — their relationship dynamics are so very intense and suspenseful, and the latest plot twist had me completely floored.

The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by @relic--crown (T, 223k, complete)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are pulled into an alternate reality where Voldemort never existed and Harry’s parents are still alive. Why I rec it: The richness of the magical worldbuilding in this fic blew me away — there’s a whole system of magic explored here that goes deeper and is far more brilliant and sweeping than what is covered in canon. The relationship between Harry and Tom develops in such an organic, lovely way, and it was fascinating to see all the changes in this parallel universe where Harry’s parents live and what Harry’s life could have been like, were there no Voldemort. Also, the plot! This fic was so intricately plotted that it felt like reading multiple books with a complex, epic plot spanning fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts, ending in a grand showdown like in the original book series, but with a surprising twist.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel Fix-It Premise: If Harry and Voldemort find themselves trapped in a strange cycle of reincarnations where they visit different points in time in Voldemort’s past. Why I rec it: A very cool take on a time-travel fix-it. Instead of traveling back to a fixed point in time, Harry and Voldemort are thrown back to various points of Voldemort’s past and relive life through certain people significant to shaping Voldemort into who he eventually becomes. The time travel theory in here is amongst the most complex that I’ve encountered — I love the concept that time is a river where multiple timelines and divergent events end up converging, rather than branching off and creating a bunch of alternate universes. I also love how organically the growing relationship between Voldemort and Harry unfolds as they progress through each cycle and gradually start to develop trust in one another and care and attraction for each other.

These steep woods and lofty cliffs by Rimeme (M, 76k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry runs away to America after Sirius’s death and disguises himself in the Muggle world for many years before getting discovered by MACUSA and offered a job with the magical government. Years later, he is recruited back to Britain to work for the Ministry, under none other than Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt himself. Why I rec it: A thoroughly enjoyable read from beginning to end — I devoured this fic in one sitting. Harry makes an extremely rational decision here — why not run off from the war if Voldemort is trying to kill everyone you love? But then, when he comes back undercover 15 years later, things don’t quite seem to add up. Britain doesn’t seem like it’s been taken over by a genocidal Dark Lord, but there’s something nefarious simmering under the surface. Voldemort as a very rational Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt is a delight here, with his seemingly very reasonable focus on progressing wizarding society. It was fun to follow along as Harry slowly starts to put the pieces together, and I love how relentlessly Voldemort pursues and seduces Harry in this fic, until he's utterly unable to resist his attraction to a Voldemort who seems to have turned over a new leaf.

These Violent Delights by @heirofdragons (M, 55k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry, Ron, and Hermione accidentally find themselves thrown back in time to the late 1940s, four years after Tom has graduated Hogwarts and is working at Borgin and Burkes. Why I rec it: A highly entertaining time travel fic with Harry stumbling back in time to find Tom Riddle in the full dregs of his Retail Hell years post-Hogwarts. Their chemistry is delightfully charming as they prod at each other and do everything to get under each other’s skin (including attempted murder), while growing undeniably attracted to each other. They simply can’t stay away from each other, despite Harry knowing who Tom turns out to be, and Tom knowing that Harry is the one who destroys all his Horcruxes and ends up defeating him in the future.

Three Turns Should Do It by @vdoshu (M, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time after an accident with the Time Turner in 3rd year, and ends up as a disembodied voice in Tom’s head from the time that Tom is 11. Why I rec it: I absolutely love Tom growing up alongside Harry who is a kind of caretaker presence in his mind, helping make his days a little bit less lonely and helping him navigate the unfortunate circumstances he’s thrown in. This is probably the most extensively researched WW2 era story I’ve ever read; at times I felt like I was learning more detailed history about everyday life during WW2 than I’ve ever read out of a history book. This fic does an amazing job of fleshing out the pivotal events of Tom’s Hogwarts years and showcasing Tom’s humanity, and the bond of mutual trust and love that he and Harry build over the years is so beautifully portrayed. It also does a great job of exploring the question of predestination and whether anyone has the power to change the fate that lies in store for them.

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry gets captured by Voldemort and held as his captive, in a world where Voldemort had won the war sometime before Harry was born, and Harry has been fighting against Voldemort his entire adult life. Why I rec it: The emotions that this fic evokes are so moving and heartfelt. The evolution from Harry as Voldemort’s prisoner to Harry as Voldemort’s trusted advisor unfolds in such a beautiful, unrushed way. Harry is in his early 30s when he’s captured, so he’s older than what we typically see in fics where he’s Voldemort’s prisoner, and his maturity and composure really shine through as he starts working together with Voldemort and trying to exert his influence to improve the fate of the wizarding world. He eventually breaks through Voldemort’s shell, and helps Voldemort to grow in so many ways as the story progresses — particularly in his understanding of love and acceptance of death as a part of life.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 84k, WIP)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and are selected as Hogwarts Champions for an AU version of the Triwizard Tournament that is structured more like the Hunger Games tournament. Why I rec it: This is a skillfully-written generation mashup featuring an incredibly suspenseful and high-intrigue setting. There’s a dark overhang of dread and anxiety that permeates every character interaction and training session, as we’re informed that most of the champions (8 from each of the 3 schools) will not make it out of the Tournament alive. Yet the chemistry between Harry and Tom builds and builds despite the life-or-death stakes — Harry is immediately attracted to Tom, and Tom admires Harry’s resourcefulness — even while they each realize they may be the death of the other.

#Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs #tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #longfic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #tom riddle #voldemort

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smallmariofindings · 3 months

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In Donkey Kong 64, the Creepy Castle minecart segment (intended to be played as Donkey Kong) features the Resident Demon, a ghostly Kremling who attacks Donkey Kong and attempts to prevent him from collecting DK Coins. The Resident Demon normally floats directly in front of the minecart whenever it appears.

However, by using a series of complex glitches, it is possible to gain access to that segment as Chunky Kong in a "holding a boulder" state, which will cause the movement in the minigame to become glitched. Instead of being forced to look forward, Chunky Kong will have 360-degree rotational movement while inside the minecart.

This reveals that the Resident Demon is, for an unknown reason, not actually programmed to appear in front of the minecart, but in front of the playable Kong. While normally, the Kong is forced to look forward, allowing free rotation for the Kong shows that if he looks in any other direction, the Resident Demon will also rotate around so it always faces the Kong, as shown in the footage.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Source: youtube.com user "Awhitmore"

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livefromcastledracula · 6 months

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Book Carmilla vs Adaptations (SPOILERS)

Here are a few 'interesting' adaptations. I like some of them for their own merits, but mostly dislike them as Carmilla adaptations for the below reasons, with some notable exceptions: Vampyr: The Dream of Allan Gray (1932 film): The first Carmilla inspired movie, although it keeps almost NOTHING from the novella except 'female vampire'. In this case, a creepy old lady rather than a charming young lesbian. This is a really moody, slow, acid trip of a film though, a treat for fans of vintage vampire film. (3/10) Hammer Karnstein Trilogy: The Vampire Lovers is the gayest and most book-accurate. Carmilla still kisses/seduces men before killing them, boo. The second one her identically-named reincarnation is blonde and has sex with / falls in love with a man booooooo. She's not in the third one at all. It's all very 70's and nowhere near queer enough, but at least we got the incomparable Ingrid Pitt in the first movie. 5/10. Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust: 'Carmilla' shows up as a surprise third act villain. She's an elegant and imposing vampire queen with a castle called "Cjethe" and the Vampire King offed her previously for being A Bit Too Extra. She's... Bathory. She's Elizabeth Bathory, right down to the name of her historical castle, the elaborate gowns and the blood-bathing. Bathory in Castlevania Nocturne even looks a lot like this one. Cool scary vampire lady, but Carmilla In Name Only. 4/10 Castlevania (Games): She's fine here, but mostly just kind of a big Dracula groupie like most of the other non-Dracula vampires. Often depicting as a flying skull or mask crying bloody tears, with optional succubus-like figure reclining on top of it. Cool. Rondo of Blood has her appear together with a ninja vampire Laura with bunny ears because why the hell not. 6/10 Castlevania (Netflix show): Baddass, angry Karen. She's amazing in the first season when she's scheming against Dracula, but after that she just sort of sits on her butt sipping wine and griping about men for a whole season until Isaac storms her castle. A cool character but not a great Carmilla, because Carmilla for me is defined by how much she loves women, not how much she hates men. Still amazing voice work by Jaime Murray though and her last stand was insanely baddass. 7/10

Carmilla Web Series / Movie: My favorite adaptation. It's obviously playing waaaay fast and loose with the canon and reframing her as a charming antihero in a zany urban fantasy, but there's deep current of love for the source material, especially in the movie. Natasha Negovanlis has charisma off the charts and the Hollstein romance is adorable. This Carmilla might be a black-leather-wearing snarky millenial goth with a Canadian accent, but as the show goes on it peels back layer after layer of the romantic, poetic, wistful, world-weary immortal hinted at by the novella. This show redeems LeFanu's lovelorn villain in all the best ways. 10/10. 2019 movie / Styria movie: I still haven't seen these, have heard good things about the gothic cinematography on the most recent one but not good things about the rest of it. The trailer looked moody and pretty though, I may watch it at some point.

#carmilla weekly #carmilla #carmilla karnstein #sheridan le fanu #carmilla castlevania #carmilla of styria

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stardvstbby · 18 days

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the way Kusanagi has been able to take Hiryuu castle & transform our perspective of it without spending hardly any time there before now is incredible. it used to be this place of comfort, of happiness and security especially for Yona, but as we learn more about the corrupt government and our perception of King Il changes to become more ambiguous and obscure, our view of the castle changes too. by the time the Happy Hungry Bunch are there it has this enclosed, confining feel, and there’s a sense of discomfort as Yona realizes her safe place in childhood is now a place of danger for her. the dragons even talk about how safe they feel and how that’s worrisome because they’re technically in enemy territory. it makes a sense of dissonance, creating a creepiness that attaches to the castle walls that seems to close in on Yona, keeping her separated from her loved ones. it’s a great contrast/parallel to Yona’s own change over the series and how she’s growing further from the naive princess who once lived in that castle

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Your dreams are haunted when you sleep at the Demon Lord's castle.

BARBATOS x gn!Reader 0.8k words | NSFW | Dark/creepy elements. Implied non-con (somnophilia). The Creepy Castle AU [Part 1] NEXT

You feel haunted as you walk through the shrouded hallways of the Demon Lord’s Castle. It’s the middle of the night and you should be asleep.

You were asleep, until a fleeting dream left you gasping for air and gripping your sheets.

It’s not the first time you’ve had strange dreams in this place. Diavolo insisted you have your own guest room available whenever late nights working at RAD made the walk back to the House of Lamentation too daunting. Last night you offered your help to Barbatos, and as the clock reached the eleventh hour he invited you to stay.

The room available for your private use is small but cozy, big enough for a comfortable bed and small writing desk in the corner. There is a painting above the dresser - a fallen angel, faceless with broken wings and feathers bloodied on the ground around them, and a serpent with hungry eyes lying in wait by their feet.

Sometimes you dream you’re on a bed of feathers and there’s a tail slithering across your skin. You wake up to the sensation of a tongue flicking against your thigh and aching arousal between your legs.

When you look at the painting, you wonder what the angel felt at that moment. Did they embrace the serpent’s tantalizing seduction? Did they feel the same rush of lust and fear that you do?

The castle is eerily still this time of night. It’s lacking the light and warmth you’re used to when you visit for dinner or attend one of Diavolo’s bustling parties.

You follow the candle lit torches to the kitchen. It's quiet and you think it’s empty, but then you see light under the door.

You knock softly before stepping inside.

Barbatos looks up from his seat at one of the countertops. There’s an old-looking recipe book open in front of him, but when he sees you, he shuts the cover and pushes the book aside.

He looks different than usual. The top buttons of his shirt are undone and you can see glimpses of his pale chest. The sleeves are rolled haphazardly to his elbows.

It’s difficult not to stare - he never looks like this. You clear your throat and hope he doesn’t notice.

(Of course he notices.)

He sees your unsettled countenance and pulls a chair out for you so you can sit with him. He watches you stifle quiet yawns and he offers to make you herbal tea to help you sleep.

You both sit in silence. Your hands are wrapped around a warm porcelain cup. He leans an elbow on the counter and rests his chin on his hand while he watches you.

“Do you have trouble sleeping often?” he asks quietly when your cup is empty and you’ve refused a second serving of tea.

You shake your head. “I have dreams sometimes and they wake me up.”

(You don’t call them nightmares because they’re not nightmares, are they?)

“Would you like to talk about them?” he offers.

The thought of sharing even a glimpse of what your mind conjures is enough to make your face warm up for an entirely different reason. “No, thank you. Your company is enough.”

And it’s true, the companionable silence that settles over both of you is comforting. You're not sure how much time has passed. You don't even realize how drowsy you are - you almost make a fool of yourself and lean too far over in your seat in an effort to get more comfortable.

Barbatos is quick to catch you before you end up sprawled across his lap. His hands are gentle when he holds you against him.

“Let me escort you back to your room,” he says. You don’t have the energy to refuse.

The walk back is slow, fog-like, a blur. You don’t notice much else except for Barbatos at your side, his arm brushing against yours while you walk, and the soft shuffle of your slippers on the stone floor.

You think you feel something brush against your bare leg underneath your housecoat - but when you startle and glance down, you see nothing but your feet on cold, grey stone. Barbatos tips his head to the side questioningly, but you shake your head and keep walking while you swallow around the lump in your throat.

He opens your door for you but touches your arm gently before you step inside.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asks. In the dim lighting of the hallway, his eyes are like glittering pools of black water.

Your voice cracks when you tell him you’ll be fine. You don’t know what else you could possibly want of him in the middle of the night. You can’t even begin to guess what he might offer you if you ask him to stay.

He bids you pleasant dreams when you slip into your room, and he closes the door behind you. You shrug off your robe and let it fall into a heap on the floor. The covers are cool when you slide into bed and you roll onto your side. You close your eyes and ignore the painting of sin in your room, the greedy serpent that follows you into your dreams.

Outside your door, a demon with a barely-there smile and forked tail waits for you to fall asleep.

#series: the creepy castle #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x you #obey me yandere #yandere barbatos #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #tw noncon #someone dropped this 🚩#gn!reader

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hier--soir · 9 months

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on the ropes

pairing: boxer!frank castle x f!reader summary: a dive bar, a stranger in an alley, and a punch to the kidney. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] boxer!frank au, explicit descriptions of violence, blood, injury, creepy men at bars, harassment, angst, anxiety, hints at trauma regarding violence. word count: 6.7k main masterlist a/n: a little boxer frank castle series that i’ve been playing around with for a minute now. i have fun writing it, so thought i’d share x

“Millie, what the fuck?”

A body jostled roughly into you, and you stumbled forward with a huff, casting a disgruntled look over your shoulder.

“What?” your friend stared at you. The room was dark, but the shadowy yellow light did little to hide the way she batted her eyelashes in an awful attempt at faux innocence.

“You said we were going for drinks,” you spoke slowly, arms raising to fold tightly across your chest. Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the less than desirable company.

The bar she brought you to was crowded. Packed to the brim like a tin of sardines, full of men gripping bottles of beer and shouting to be heard over the god awful music. The second you walked in with Millie and her brother, you’d known something was amiss.

Normally when Millie invited you out it was for cocktails or a bottle of wine, and often at chic rooftop bars that you could hardly afford to be in – never a dingy dive bar with sticky floors and pictures of shirtless men covering the walls.

They were framed, at least—the pictures—denoting a clear sense of veneration and pride from the owner. Covering almost every square inch of the walls around the bar, depicting sweat covered men. Some bleeding, some flexing their biceps; some holding another man in a headlock. Your stomach rolled each time you dared to glance at the décor and caught sight of blood or bruising.

“We are having drinks,” Millie responded sheepishly.

On cue, her twin brother, Ed, wandered back from the bar and handed you a glass of rosé. He looked decidedly casual, wearing a soft pair of shorts and a thin white t-shirt. A backpack rested on his shoulder. You narrowed your eyes, wondering why you hadn’t questioned his outfit at all until that moment.

“I don’t know if it’ll be any good,” he frowned. He had the type of voice that made it sound like he was always on the precipice of clearing his throat. “It’s the only wine they had.”

You scowled, looking back to his sister with raised eyebrows. Ed nursed a glass of water while he peered around the bar, sizing up the men stationed across the room.

“Okay,” she grimaced. “Look, I knew if I told you earlier you wouldn’t have come, and I need you here for support!”

“Support for what?” your voice had risen to a mouse-like squeak at that point. Inside of your chest, your heart had begun thrumming a little faster, and the echo of it rushed faintly in your ears.

“I’ve told you before,” Millie tried. “You know, about Ed doing these boxing games?”

“Boxing match,” Ed corrected quickly. Your eyes flicked between them, and you stayed silent, praying that she wasn’t going to say what you thought she was.

“Boxing match,” she remedied easily. “And so tonight is actually his first big fight, and he wants me here of course, and I want you here—”

“Millie,” you gaped. “I don’t do blood, seriously, I can’t. This—this is not my sort of thing, and I-I’m sorry but I don’t particularly care to see your brother beat someone up.”

“There won’t be any blood!”

“Well, there probably will be blood.”

“Ed,” Millie hissed. “Not helpful.”

He held his hands up and sent an apologetic smile sizzling in your direction. “C’mon, kid, this is my big break! You’re practically family; we need you here.”

You stared for a second, silently willing the racing cogs in your brain to slow down so you could think. Not for the first time, you realised how alike the twins looked. Even in the dim bar, their choppy flaxen hair shone where it streaked across their foreheads, and their soft almond shaped eyes held you in their gaze, like a mother held a crying child. So comforting, and so fucking encouraging.

Trust us, their eyes sung. Stay with us.

They reminded you of the twins from The Shining, using their silent benevolence to lull you into a false sense of security before you ultimately met a grisly demise.

God damnit.

“So what, it’s like some kind of fucking Fight Club?” you asked slowly. “Is this even legal?”

The siblings shared a quick look before Millie gripped your elbow. “You don’t need to worry about that. There’s a ref, and coaches – it’s safe.”

“Jesus Christ.” Her words didn’t reassure you in the slightest. You took a large gulp of your wine, lips puckering at the acidic taste. They watched on warily, awaiting the news that you would be leaving, going home to curl up in bed with your cat and watch re-runs of I Dream of Jeannie. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Couldn’t bring yourself to disappoint two of your closest friends.

“I’ll stay,” you vowed begrudgingly.

Millie whooped, the wine in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she raised her hands triumphantly in the air. The sound garnered a few looks from men around the room, and you shrunk away at the attention. They all seemed to be at least twenty years older than you and Millie. Adjusting your feet on the ground, you downed the last of your wine and tried not to gag as it slid down your throat.

“I just need a minute, though,” you exhaled, discarding your empty glass onto the closest table. “Need to get some fresh air before whatever is about to happen, happens.”

“Okay but don’t be long,” Ed fiddled with the strap of his backpack. “We kick off downstairs in 20 minutes.”

You gave him a quick nod, and for a second you tried to picture him throwing a punch. When you found yourself unable conjure the image in your mind, you turned to walk outside.

The bar was tucked away in a side street, and the only way in or out was nestled twenty metres down a dank alleyway that reeked of something metallic. A red neon sign buzzed above the doorway, and worked as the only indicator that the location was a place of business. The low electric was somewhat comforting, as you took up a spot on the opposing wall.

New York in early March was no more delightful than if it had still been the middle of Winter, and you shuddered at the press of cool bricks against your back. A cool wind rushed past you, snaking underneath the gaps in your clothes and whispering cruelly against your skin.

Nonetheless, you’d always enjoyed the cold. Any excuse to layer clothes until your skin was warm and pleasantly itchy beneath knitted material. Friends chastised the way you left your window ajar all year round; didn’t understand when you explained that you can’t sleep unless there’s a slight breeze. The chill was a welcome reprieve – something familiar to greet you as you stepped out of the bar. Having to warm yourself up always felt kinder and more loving than having to cool yourself down. Hot chocolates and weighted blankets in Winter were a heartfelt embrace, while ice cubes and swimming in Summer were futile efforts.

Cold air, you cruel mistress. I will never be able quit you.

Your phone buzzed every few moments, displaying the latest update in an incessant stream of texts from your roommate about how the radiator in your apartment was playing up again. A frustrated huff escaped your lips, and you put it away without responding.

There were a few men out there, cigarettes dangling between chapped lips as they shared mumbled, gruff conversation. For a moment, you wished you had one. To light a fire in your throat, to bring that heartfelt embrace. You shoved the thought down, reaching for a piece of gum in your purse instead. Numb fingers found the small cardboard packet after a moment. You fumbled with the wrapper, struggling to get it open, until a low voice gave you pause.

“You here alone?”

Your fingers froze, the piece of gum tumbling back down into the dark abyss of your bag. Suddenly you were hyper aware of a presence standing much closer to you than before. Cigarette smoke swirled in the air, seeping out of the burning cherry and drifting past your face. You resisted the urge to inhale.

The guy was lanky, with greasy hair and a word tattooed across his neck that you couldn’t quite make out. “You a mute or something?” he chuckled unkindly. “I asked you a question.”

Your eyes flashed up to his, frowning. The conversation amongst his friends died down, and you could feel them watching your interaction, quiet chuckles leaving smirking mouths as their friend hovered over you. If you just closed your eyes again, you were sure you could imagine you were at home in your bed; that you’d left the bar like you wanted to, could feel the warmth of Cynthia curled up and purring against your calf while Barbara Eden and Larry Hagman chattered away in the background.

“Hey,” he groused, taking a step closer. “It’s not polite to ignore someone when they’re tryna be friendly.”

The calming image disappeared, gone in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“Is that what you’re doing?” you steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders and attempting to pretend as though your stomach was churning inside of you. “Being friendly?”

“Oh, so her highness does speak,” he leered, lips pulling back to reveal a crooked smile and a missing tooth on the left of his mouth. “This isn’t a good area y’know? Bad idea for a thing like you to be out here all own.”

“I’m not here alone,” you muttered, flattening your back further against the wall.

“No?” he raised an eyebrow. It had a slit in it, a puckered white scar marring the skin beneath his hair. “You look pretty alone to me, doll.”

“I’m n-not,” the words rattled out of you. You focused on inhaling slowly, letting the crisp air expand your stomach, but another stilted exhale spilled out anyway. “In fact, the guy I’m here with will knock out all the teeth you have left if you don’t leave m—”

“Is that fucking right?” he interrupted, advancing a step closer. Your heart thundered in your chest, blood thundering in your ears. Your lungs tightened, all thoughts of breathing techniques evaporating in your mind as panic slowly took over. His friends were still laughing. The hand holding a cigarette lifted toward you, the burning end suspended dangerously close to the bare skin of your chin.

“Johnny, why don’t you fuck off and leave ‘er alone?” a rough voice cut through the alley. You flinched at the sound of it, but didn’t take your eyes off the man.

“Mind your business,” he snapped in response. Spittle struck your cheek and you cringed as it settled on your skin.

“I mean it,” the voice came again, from somewhere deeper in the alley, to your right. “Get the fuck outta my sight or you won’t like what happens.”

The man—Johnny—spared a glance in the direction of the voice, and only then did he hesitate. The smirk on his face drooped, mouth hanging open as he fumbled for something to say, boots scuffing against the ground as he took one hasty step away from you, and then another.

“Hey man,” he said in a low, wary voice. “I didn’t realise. No harm done, alright?”

“Not yet,” the voice responded plainly.

Johnny gave a short nod, dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out with the tip of his boot. His friends weren’t laughing anymore. With a jerk of his head, he led them back inside, and only when they were all gone did you allow your shoulders to relax. A dull ache had started up behind your left eye.

You scraped trembling fingers against the brick on either side of you, finding solace in the way the coarse material snagged against your numb skin. But a shuffling sound to the right made your ears prick up, and your head darted in the stranger’s direction. The man walked closer to you, almost entirely obscured by shadows. Your eyes strained, trying to see him clearer, but he leant against the wall and kept his head trained straight ahead at the closed door of the bar. Faded orange letters on the door read Hasta La Muerte.

A grey hood was pulled up over his head, working as an accomplice with the darkness to obscure his facial features. But he was tall, and broad, that much was evident, and the red glow of the sign exposed the bare skin of his hands. Faded purple and blue bruises blossomed over the hills of his knuckles, small cuts and scabs decorating the spots where thin skin covered bone. The chill on your skin seemed spread through your insides at the sight of it; wariness filling your stomach until your muscles clenched tight, bracing yourself for another antagonising encounter.

“He’s right.”

His voice sent a shot of heat through your chest, eviscerating the cold until you could feel your palms warm, sweat beading across your skin.

“What?” Your voice was quieter than you cared for it to be. You felt so small, suddenly.

“Place is a shithole,” he gestured loosely at the bar entrance. “Filled with scumbags. You shouldn’t be here.”

The stranger made a step to move inside, hand raising to push open the door.

“Not safe for a thing like me?” you emphasised the word with a curl of your lip, vaguely unsure what had inspired you to continue an interaction that had already ended.

But you did know that Johnny had made you feel so powerless, like an ant he could squash beneath his boot if he felt so compelled. Whereas this man was entirely uninterested – he almost seemed bored with the whole thing. And it spurred something inside of you.

His stance tightened somewhat, and you watched him roll his shoulders back slowly.

“Yeah,” he spoke, still facing the door. “Something like that.”

You couldn’t pinpoint what compelled you to speak again. and if you were to retell the story, you were sure you’d be ashamed of yourself for pushing, for not letting go and simply thanking him. But maybe that was the thing – maybe it was because he had saved you from that guy, whether it came from a place or care or not. Or perhaps it was because he spoke quietly, didn’t raise his voice. Something about him seemed trustworthy… safe.

“Why are you here then?” you rushed out. Heat soared through your face as he paused, head tilting to the side to spare a glance in your direction. “If it’s as bad as you say.”

As he moved, the glow of the sign lit up his profile. You stilled, eyes widening a fraction as you caught sight of his face for the first time. He watched you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t speak for a moment.

A mottled purple bruise shone beneath his cheekbone and travelled across the bridge of his nose. His jawline was sharp, the muscle underneath the skin twitching as his teeth clenched together. He still didn’t move, allowing you a moment to rake your eyes over him, to devour the imperfections and discolorations of his abused face. Almost as if he wanted you to see – wanted you to know that his warning wasn’t made up of empty words.

You were no stranger to violence, and all the ways it could manifest. Painfully familiar with the way blues and reds and purples and yellows could discolour skin until natural hues were all but gone. Well acquainted with discerning the difference between an injury inflicted by oneself or another, if only you looked closely enough. It was something you’d grown up considering—the juxtaposition between defensive and offensive wounds, and the way one chose to hide or not hide them.

The way he moved was so nimble, so quiet. That hood was tucked up over his head, and yet hands were bared to you, exposing himself in a way that said this is what I will allow you to see; this is what I can control.

And somehow, amidst the brutality of it all, he was handsome. Dark eyes—so dark they almost seemed black under the humming red glow—and a strong, crooked nose with a bump along it, as if it’d been broken at some point and never reset properly. He looked fierce, and maybe not as safe as you’d first thought.

You swallowed thickly.

“Pays the bills,” he clipped. You let a noncommittal hum vibrate inside your mouth. He works here.

It made sense, you supposed, that he was a bartender. It matched his rough exterior; gave clarity to the guys from before being so cautious of getting on his bad side. You pondered how his face had gotten so fucked up; considered that maybe a patron had gotten out of line recently, and had perhaps taken a swing at an innocent hospitality worker.

It was almost comical, the lengths your brain went to in order to rationalise his appearance.

“I actually live pretty close to here.” Why are you still talking?

“Is that your way of inviting me over, sweetheart?” His shoulders shook with a short, silent laugh. “I’m flattered.”

“What?” you stiffened, gaze darting to his torn knuckles once more. “No, no. I’m just—I’m saying I know the area.” He caught the movement of your eyes and tucked his hands into his pockets after all.

“Well, if you live so close,” he said. “You should go home.”

A short, indignant scoff rushed from your nose. “I can handle myself,” you muttered unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah?” he snorted, demeanour shifting into something that bordered on incredulous. All nerves you’d once felt seemed to have vanished, and yet you were painfully aware of how his stature dwarfed your own. You swore you saw him roll his eyes, perhaps taking note of the same thing. “My bad, hot shot, I’ll stay out of your way next time.”

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, and you tugged it out quickly. Millie’s picture lit up the screen and then disappeared, and your eyes darted over the notifications.

meet me downstairs

it’s about to start. where are you?

please don’t tell me you left

“Go home,” he repeated finally. Tone softer this time. “This isn’t the place for you. I mean it.”

You looked up from your phone. He had turned his head almost entirely, giving a full view of his face. Short dark hair peaked out from where his hood had fallen back an inch. His face looked solemn; lips pressed together tersely.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly. “Maybe I will.”

With one final look in your direction, he pressed his hand firmer against the door and stepped inside, leaving you alone with the cold air once more.

You gave it five minutes before you followed him inside.

Tacky stairs led to a large basement. To floors and walls made of concrete slabs that brought an extra iciness to the space. A chill that was eradicated, however, by the sweat and body heat that emanated from the mass of men crowding the room, jostling against each other as they shouted and yelled and geared up for the show.

Animals.

Excited chatter drowned out the low, droning music that played from speakers in each corner of the space. You spied men handing each other cash, speaking in hushed tones, placing bets on what was about to happen. You wondered if anyone had bet on Ed. Tried not to think about the possibility of them betting on his opponent.

Millie was front and centre, standing beside the ring with a shorter man that you didn’t recognise.

“Where the hell were you?” she asked, handing you a fresh glass of the sickening wine. “It’s about to start.”

“I told you,” you raised the glass to your lips, glancing at the bald man hovering by her shoulder. “I needed some fresh air.”

“This is Rodge,” she followed your gaze, introducing you quickly. “Ed’s trainer.”

You shared a polite nod, but no words were exchanged. Rodge’s eyes were trained on where Ed stood, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet and stretching his arms. A navy mouthguard rested behind his thin lips, matching the shorts he wore. You’d never seen Ed shirtless before, and he was lean, almost as lanky as you’d expected him to be. But he had a sleeper build of sorts. Clear firm lines of muscle protruded through the skin of his arms and stomach, hinting at a strength that you’d never expected him to possess.

“Have you seen him fight before?” you asked.

“Loads of times,” she nodded. “He’s got this, don’t worry.”

You nodded absentmindedly, attention stolen by a tattooed man dressed in black entering the ring. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and your fingertips tingled sharply, as it they’d each been pricked by a small, invisible needle. He raised a hand, and the crowd quietened a fraction, all eyes turning to him. Silently, he motioned to someone on the other side of the ropes. And with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you watched Ed’s opponent step into the ring.

He had his back to you, but you allowed your eyes to trail over his figure, sizing him up in an attempt to gage how much of a risk he posed. He was dark haired, and he looked strong. Stronger than you cared to admit. Small black shorts clung to his upper thighs, but his torso was bare, and very little of his body was left to your imagination. His back was broad, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement he made. A few scars littered his bare skin, defacing otherwise unmarked flesh.

The dark-haired man stretched his arms over his head, bending them this way and that, flexing the muscles in his biceps and triceps as the crowd jeered. His physique was different to Ed’s.

Where Ed was discreetly muscular, this man was imposing. He stood a few inches taller than Ed, and was obviously a decade older, showing a clear advantage. And then as he lowered his arms and flicked his head to the side to listen to what his coach was saying from outside of the ring, and you caught a glimpse of his face.

Crooked nose. Bruised cheekbone.

It was like you’d been punched in the stomach yourself.

You glanced uneasily at Millie, but she had her eyes solely on Ed, fists clenched by her side as she muttered inaudible words of encouragement. Movement in the ring drew your attention once more.

It can’t be. He was a bartender, for god’s sake. Or… you had just made that up in your head and decided it was true.

Pays the bills, he’d said. But he’d never said what exactly he was doing to make money.

“Shit,” you breathed, hands shaking as the man from the alley turned to face Ed and you saw him in all of his glory.

With bated breath, you watched the two men meet in the middle of the ring and knock their boxing gloves together. And then before you could prepare yourself, it had begun.

Ed threw a punch instantly, the force of his glove whipping the man’s head to the side. Millie let out a shrill whooo and you flinched, stomach coiling as he retaliated, delivering a heavy blow to Ed’s ribs.

He grunted, stumbling back from the force of it. It seemed like he wasn’t expecting such a fast response, and in his surprise, failed to block the next two punches sent his way. First to his ribs and then a quick second to the side of his face. A lump formed in your throat, and nausea twisted inside of you as blood and spittle flew from Ed’s mouth, painting the mat like a Jackson Pollock. For a moment you feared you might truly be sick.

The blood didn’t deter the man, who advanced on Ed like a predator, caging him in against the ropes. He didn’t let up for a second, delivering punishing blows wherever he could find a gap in his opponent’s defence.

“Come on, Ed!” Millie hollered, and your head snapped to the side. Her eyebrows were drawn tight in the middle of her forehead, mouth hanging open anxiously.

As if he could hear her, Ed propelled himself forward, colliding with the other man. They grappled for a second, both searching for purchase, but Ed had his arms wrapped tightly around the other man. What the fuck?

“What’s he doing?” you asked, but nobody could hear you over the roar of the men in the room. They clambered around the platform from all angles, getting as close as they could. Spit flew as they shouted profanities at the fighters, faces reddening as they bellowed with all their might.

Rodge yelled something inaudible at him, but Ed persisted, planting his feet on the ground and pressing his chest against the other man’s. And then the man’s body jolted to the side and he was stumbling to the ground, a loud grunt echoing through the room as he held a gloved fist to his waist. The referee shouted and everything stopped for a second as the man rested on the mat. Cold dread flooded through your veins as you noticed the way he glared at Ed. Even in the light, his eyes seemed black. The men around you were roaring, and harsh boo’s reverberated off the walls of the basement.

“What the fuck just happened?” you asked breathlessly, looking to Rodge for an explanation.

“He punched him in the kidney,” Rodge ground out, arms folded across his chest. He seemed to be glaring at Ed as well, although you couldn’t tell if that was just his face.

“Okay so?” you questioned cluelessly, eyebrows raised. The man rose slowly and walked to his corner of the ring, where someone held a water bottle to his lips.

Rodge ignored you, stepping toward the ring where Ed was waiting for him.

“He can’t do that.” Millie told you anxiously, staring wide eyed at her brother. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

It appeared as though the words Rodge had for Ed were of a similar sentiment, based on the way he was cowering under the bald man’s glare. Blood dribbled out of his nose in thin lines, and he wiped them away with his glove, leaving a crimson streak smeared across his cheek. You held your breath and looked away.

After thirty seconds the men gathered in the middle of the ring once more, and you attempted to quell the anxiety that swelled inside you. But as much as you internally begged for it to end, the second round began and the sound of gloves smacking skin hit in your ears. And you couldn’t bring yourself to not look.

Because, god, it was a sight to behold.

The dark-haired man was back on his feet, and he was furious.

He moved quickly, twisting and ducking around Ed, never giving him a moment of respite as he sunk his fists into his flesh. He found all of his weak spots and targeted them in a second, attacking with finesse, and knowing all the right moments to pull back and block Ed’s futile attempts to return a punch. He was too fast, too agile, too big. And when he struck, it was brutal, every single time.

Sweat seeped through the thick material of your shirt, sticking it to the skin of your back. Everything was too hot, too loud. You felt lightheaded as you watched Ed take another hit to the face, blood spurting as his head jolted to the side.

It was disgusting, he was disgusting. It was animalistic, it was brutish. And yet you couldn’t stop watching him.

Sweat shone on his shoulders as he moved, shimmering under the harsh white light dangling above them. You could hear him grunting through the black mouthguard covering his teeth; could see how the corded muscles in his abdomen clenched and shifted beneath his skin with every movement of his arms. It was painfully mesmerising.

Ed’s body hit the ropes and bounced back towards the man, and a gloved fist met his already bruising ribs. The air rushed out of your lungs, chest aching as if you were the one who’d been struck.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you said, but Millie didn’t hear you, too busy shouting mindless instructions at her brother.

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you looked back just in time to see the man swing his fist upward into the bottom of Ed’s chin, snapping his head back. And when he fell, intercepting the mat with a sickening thud, he didn’t stand back up. A harsh, guttural shout came from the man’s mouth, so loud it felt like your body vibrated. Whether it was a triumphant battle cry, or a sound of exhaustion, you weren’t so sure, but you didn’t take your eyes off him as the referee counted eight seconds and then gripped his forearm, raising it in the air to signal him as the winner.

A deafening cacophony of sound rose from the crowd, louder than you’d heard it all night. Praise mixed in with heckles of abuse, and yet the man stared into the crowd as if it were all below him. His chin was raised in the air, blank eyes gazing into the swarm of people, flitting from face to face as if he were still trying to process the victory. It was nonchalant, as if the entire thing was no big deal to him. As if he hadn’t just beaten someone to a pulp. And then suddenly, those dark orbs were on you. Your entire body stiffened, eyes widening as you held his gaze. His eyebrows quirked into a soft frown, chin lowering as he squinted a little, perhaps trying to determine whether you were the same person from the alley or not. But his gaze shifted away just as quick, and you relaxed somewhat, relieved to have escaped the intense scrutiny. His glistening chest heaved with breaths of exertion, and you watched as he gave a single jostle of his fist in the air, before turning to exit the ring.

Rodge led Ed out a side door, Millie rushing behind them with his water bottle gripped between her slim fingers. The red colour of her acrylics shone against the black plastic. You stumbled behind them as fast as your feet would carry you, but your body felt light, stomach shifting inside you like you were on a boat, a feeling that had you swaying from side to side; set aimlessly adrift in the teeming crowd. Like a small fish against a strong current, you wormed through thick arms and tall torso, finally slipping towards the door tucked so discreetly against the back wall. When you plunged through it, and the door had clicked shut at your back, you found yourself alone in a long hallway.

A multitude of closed doors decorated the path ahead, worn silver handles shining below the brassy light on the roof, taunting your uncertainty. Soft murmurs rose from somewhere in the distance, but boisterous cheers still rang in your ears, and you couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the voices. An image of Ed hitting the mat swum through your vision and your first step faltered, palm colliding with the wall in an effort to steady yourself.

Your throat was thick as you swallowed, but the ball of anxiety stayed lodged in the top of your chest. You began to walk, ears pricked in hopes of recognising a familiar voice as you passed by the first set of doors. Millie or Ed—hell, even Rodge would do.

You’d only made it a few steps when one of the doors smarted open, the hinge creaking painfully loud. The expectation that Millie was about to step out and greet you brought a welcome relief flooding through your veins, and your shoulders relaxed somewhat.

“Thank god,” you muttered.

And then stopped short, feet planting on the ground as the person fully entered the corridor.

Definitely not Millie.

Not for the first time that night, you were struck by how large he was. In fact, it was probably the hundredth time the thought had crossed your mind.

One hand gripped an ice pack to his waist, right where his kidney sat, and the other rubbed a small towelette across his chest, absorbing the sweat that still shone across his pecs. A pink mark covered his unbruised cheek, a stinging reminder of Ed’s first punch. Black, unruly eyebrows twitched in recognition, and the hand gripping the towel paused as he assessed you.

“What the hell are you doin’ down here?” he bristled. His voice was deeper than it had been earlier. Rougher.

You didn’t respond for a moment, eyes glazing over as they flicked in a constant loop from his face to his bare chest, his arms, his thighs. His bicep flexed as his hand tightened around the ice pack.

Jesus Christ, you thought. Get a hold of yourself.

“M’serious,” he griped. “If someone finds you down here when you’re not supposed to be, you’ll get your ass handed to you.”

He was more intimidating now than he had been earlier. Expression frustrated—almost pissed off—as he stared at you. It was a stark contrast to the interaction in the alley, where he’d kindly but firmly told you to get the fuck out of here.

The memory of Ed hitting the mat reared its head once more, and you flinched.

The ball of anxiety seemed to grow another inch, inspiring a low throbbing sensation behind your sternum. It screamed at you, pounded against your bones and hollered, you don’t know this guy, what the fuck are you doing? Sweat dampened your palms, and you allowed your eyes to dart down the hall over his shoulder, just for a second, before looking back at his face. Where the fuck is Millie?

Something shifted in his demeanour then. His eyebrows softened a touch, the corners of his mouth relaxing.

“You okay, hot shot?”

Heat soared through your belly at the nickname.

“Uhh,” your voice was a higher pitch than normal, and you cleared your throat quickly. “Yeah, yes, ‘m good.”

He nodded once, face unreadable. “Did you see it?” Black eyes watched you closely.

“Yeah,” you wiped your palms on your jeans. “Yeah, I saw.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

The tip of a pink, wet tongue slipped out of his mouth to swipe along his lower lip. So fast you almost missed it. Your face felt hot.

“And what’d you think?”

You thought you could see the smugness in his eyes. The way his chest puffed out a little, knowing you’d seen his victory. You hated how pleased he seemed to be with himself… almost as much as you hated yourself for noticing how soft the inside of his elbows looked; for wondering what the sweat on his neck tasted like.

“I thought it was awful,” you told him truthfully. His smirk faltered a little, the spark in his eyes dimming as he stared. “I… I didn’t want to be here.”

He contemplated your response for a moment, eyes shining curiously as they ticked down your body, giving you a swift once over before flashing back up to your face. You shifted uneasily under the scrutiny.

The bag of ice crunched in his grip as he readjusted it against his side. For a split second he cringed, lower stomach tensing as he modified his footing, leaning most of his weight on his other side. The sight of his pain intrigued you. It had such a flawed, human quality about it. Something as real, as universal as hurt seemed to bring him back down to earth – to the same lowly reality that normal people lived in; ones who weren’t made of brick and couldn’t throw their fists with a god-like agility.

For as long as you could remember, you’d believed that any person who made the cognisant choice to inflict violence, was dangerous. And yet, your feet didn’t move. Couldn’t bring yourself to side-step his broad figure, to dash down the hall and bang on the doors until a guardian angel in the shape of Millie appeared. Because after a few short moments alone with him, away from the crowd and the bright lights and the fighting mat, you remembered why you didn’t feel the need to. Safe.

“But you stayed,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. An indisputable fact. Indeed, you had stayed.

“Call it morbid curiosity,” you muttered, scuffing the tip of your shoe against the ground.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you were already speaking. “Do you know if Ed’s okay?”

“Who?” he frowned. Your face mirrored his, confusion zapping through your body. However, the train of thought was interrupted by the door swinging open, and another man’s head dipping into your line of sight.

“Alright, we gott—” the man cut himself off, mouth hanging open as he caught sight of you a few metres away. “Oh.”

He was tall, taller than the boxer, with dark skin and black hair shaved short. Lips peeled back to reveal teeth, and you realised he was smiling at you. A polite, comforting smile. You recognised him from the fight; standing beside the ring, holding a water bottle to the boxer’s mouth in between rounds.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, gaze darting between the pair of you before landing on his friend. “But we need to talk.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of the words but didn’t tear his gaze away from your face. A splotchy, deep red mark had formed on his side of his stomach, hinting at how hard Ed must’ve punched him.

“’M Frank,” he said abruptly.

You blinked.

Frank.

Frank, Frank, Frank.

A name to put to the violence.

The man in the doorway glanced curiously at you, his eyes soft. After a long stretch of silence, in which you did not respond, and did not offer your own name up, a low scoff erupted from Frank’s mouth and that almost familiar smirk slid back across his lips.

“I get it,” he let out a low chuckle, a sound that echoed a simmering tone of disappointment. “Can’t go around giving your name out to just any scumbag.”

You cringed at the word choice. But as you went to defend yourself, to tell him your name, to say anything, he had already turned his back, readjusting his ice pack as he disappeared through the doorway.

It banged shut behind them, a whoosh of air rushing into the corridor with the movement. Alone once more, you took a steadying breath. The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered once, a low hum emanating from it, and then a faint tap tap tap. You glanced up to see a small, black moth flapping it’s wings in earnest, repeatedly knocking against the warm glass of the bulb.

And then that soft, lilting voice was calling your name. You saw the blonde hair first, then the acrylic nails.

“Millie,” your feet carried you down the hall to where she stood, hanging halfway out of an open doorway.

“C’mon,” she hurried back inside. “We’re taking Ed to the hospital. They think he might have a concussion.”

You caught a glimpse of him inside the room. Rodge was wiping a damp cloth over his face, trying to clean away splashes of dark blood that stained his chin. Vacant eyes burned a hole into the ground, and the corners of his mouth turned down as he murmured something under his breath. Millie crouched to rest a sympathetic hand on his knee.

You spared a final glance down the hall, to the spot where you’d stood with Frank only moments before. Perhaps you were curious to see if he’d reappear – if he’d stalk back out and demand to know your name after all. But he didn’t, and you could hear Ed beginning to cry. So you did what Frank had done; turned your back, and let the door close behind you.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #boxer!frank castle #my writing #on the ropes

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to-thelakes · 1 month

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tear in my heart (1)

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

series summary; when you start on anti-depressants, you didn’t expect to be forced on a roadtrip with the punisher but life never really went how you wanted it to.

series warnings; slow-burn, discussion of depression and reader being on medication, angst, fluff, strangers to reluctant friends to friends to lovers, reader sleeps a lot, reader is emotionally all over the place, frank is his usual self

warnings for this part; description of a fight, reader is a little hungover, mentions of a night-out/drinking alcohol, strong language, men being creepy (not matt or frank)

masterlist

If you were completely honest with yourself, you don’t know why you had come into work. You were exhausted. You had only started the anti-depressants two days ago and you were exhausted. Also, you had a tiny hangover. You weren’t really supposed to drink on your meds but you never really listened to what anyone else said. You were regretting it now that you had a pounding headache and were stuck on shift until closing.

Going out had meant to be just some fun. You weren’t gonna drink but then these attractive men came up to you and they were buying you drinks and you didn’t know how to say no. The night had gone downhill from there but thankfully your roommate had helped you into bed when you returned back to your shared apartment.

It should have been a night that you regretted but didn’t have to think about again. Or at least that’s what you had hoped but as you walked through the bookstore, you heard the bell ding.

The bookshop you worked in was only a few blocks from your apartment. You had worked there long enough to know all the regulars and they knew you. It paid well considering and the owner loved you. He loved to tease you about anything and everything and his smile was one that brought you so much comfort. It reminded you of your dad’s smile even when your dad was halfway across the country, out of reach.

Despite all this, when you glanced up from where you were stocking books on the shelf, you saw a newcomer - not a regular - as he meandered down one of the aisles, blurry images of the previous night started to come back to you.

He hadn’t immediately spotted you but he would any minute and you knew his face. It was one of the men that you had been drinking with last night and you felt your heart thumping in your chest. It had to be a coincidence that they were here. You tried not to think too much as you continued stocking up the YA section.

The man had been the one that had initially approached you the previous night. He had been charming and suave. He had made you feel special and so even when you were hesitant at the start, you settled into his presence quite comfortably. And when he had asked for you to join him at the table with his friends, you found it hard to say no. He had been so kind. It was rare to find someone so openly charming and endearing without being overly sexual but he was and you had joined it.

Which as it turned out, was a bad idea. It turned out - according to Matt - that in your drunken state, you had managed to find yourself wedged between criminals. Criminals that were part of a drug ring that Matt had been trying to take down for months. Of course, Matt had only told you this once he had demanded that you get away from them and made an embarrassment of you.

But this man being at the bookstore had to be a coincidence. It didn’t make sense for him to be looking for you but that anxious thought lingered in your mind as you crushed the cardboard box you had just emptied. Your feet carried you towards the door into the back until there was a hand on your upper arm. Whoever it was, forced you to turn around and you came face-to-face with the man from the bar.

“Hi, is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, putting on your customer service voice and smile as you tried to pull yourself away from his grip. But it was strong, bruising and you could feel his blunt nails digging into your skin through your uniform.

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” The man responded, a charming smile spreading across his face. But now you could see right through it. In your drunken state, he had seemed so kind but now his charm was more predatory. It was a leer and you shoved your arm out of his grip, stepping away from him.

“Of course, just give me a minute. I need to dispose of this box in the back,” You retorted. The man narrowed his eyes and he opened his mouth but you had rushed into the back before he had a chance to deny you the opportunity. You slammed the door behind you, heart thumping in your chest and your boss appeared. Those usual kind blue eyes looked back at you and his bushy brown eyebrows pulled down, concern etched across his soft features.

“Another bad date coming to find you?” Your boss asked, a teasing smile on his face. You shook your head, heart thundering in your chest.

“No, I need to-” You cut yourself off not sure how to even begin and explain yourself. So, instead, you just said, “Can I call someone?” Your boss nodded and he watched as you rushed over to your bag, pulling your mobile from your pocket. In seconds, you shoved it up to your ear, calling Matt. You just prayed that he answered.

Your boss watched you for a moment before he decided to give you privacy and he went back to sorting through the new stock that had been delivered earlier that morning. Your eyes stayed closed as you waited for Matt to answer, foot nervously tapping and hand pressed against your head.

“Hey, aren’t you at work?” Matt’s voice filled your ears and the anxiety that was ready to boil over subsided a little. Matt would keep you safe.

“The guy from the bar. He’s here. He said he wanted to ask me some questions. I don’t know what to do. I think they’re going to-” You were panicking and rambling and Matt could recognise that tone anywhere which is why he promptly cut you off.

“Hey, calm down. Are you at work?” He asked, his voice was stern but calm. The fact that he wasn’t freaking out calmed you down and you let out a hum of ‘yeah’. You heard movement on the other end of the phone before Matt sighed, “Is there a way you could get out of the store without him seeing you?” You glanced over at your boss who was still sorting the new stock.

“I can’t leave, I’m on till closing and Lacey’s on shift but she’s still new,” You mumbled. Matt scoffed on the other end and you glanced at your boss who was now cocking an eyebrow at your words. You waved your hand dismissively, forcing a smile onto your lips before you turned your back to him. Making your boss worry was the last thing that you needed right now. He was already too kind to you and this was just something else you didn’t need.

“Listen, if he’s at the store, it’s not a social call. You need to get out before you get hurt,” Matt retorted, “I’ll send Karen to cover for you if that’s the problem.” Matt sounded frustrated and you glanced back at your boss before you sighed. You didn’t even know what to think. It had barely been two hours on shift and you didn’t want to disappoint your boss but Matt was right.

“I’ll work something out. I’ll text you when I’m home,” You decided. Matt let out a sigh of relief and you both said your goodbyes. As soon as you hung up your phone and put it back in your bag, your boss was looking at you expectedly. It was obvious to him that something was wrong and he wasn’t going to let you get away with not telling him. It had always be like that with him. He wanted to know his employees were okay.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to tell me what that was about?” He asked as he gestured vaguely towards your bag. You sighed and ran your hands across your face before letting your shoulders drop.

“Something happened,” You began, not entirely sure how to word it. You didn’t want to worry him but you knew that you needed to give him something so that he would let you get the hell out of the store, “I saw someone at the bar last night and I pissed them off. I was drunk and now they’ve found me here and they’re really not happy with me and they’re not good people,” You were trying to be subtle but the way your boss’ face dropped told you that he understood, “I can’t deal with it. I’m tired and I need to talk to the police about the incident anyway. It’s just-” You were rambling again and you were glad when your boss cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t give me these excuses, just go,” He retorted, a wry smile on his lips, “Lacey can cover for you. It’ll give her a chance to prove herself.” Your boss winked and you chuckled softly at the man before you nodded your head. You grabbed your bag and pulled it over your shoulder, taking a deep breath. You walked up to him and hugged him. He chuckled and hugged you back, “Go get some sleep, okay?” He requested. You nodded and pulled back.

“I’m gonna head out the back, thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!” You were smiling ear-to-ear and your boss simply waved his hand dismissively. You then rushed out of the backdoor and into the alleyway. You checked left and right before you rushed back to your apartment. The walk wasn’t far, a few blocks, and you were able to keep mostly to alleyways that were lit by the midday sun. You were safe from that man.

And thankfully, you were soon back in the comfort of your apartment. The whole place was still clean. After you had woken up, you cleared everything up before you headed out to work. Your roommate left before you more times than not and so you always wanted to leave the apartment clean for when she got home off shift.

The cleanliness meant that you didn’t have to worry about anything. Instead, you locked your front door and put your keys and bag on the side before you went over to your bedroom.

The adrenaline from the brief encounter was starting to dip now you were in the safety of your apartment and the exhaustion caused by your medication seeped right back in again. You grabbed your phone and texted Matt that you were home safe before you got into bed. You only managed to get your uniform off and replaced with a hoodie before you were snuggled up asleep in bed. You really were exhausted.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of knocking against your fire escape. Your eyes blinked open, squinting across the room and quickly realizing that it had gotten dark. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep but you guessed it must have been at least eight hours since the sun had set.

You heard knocking against your window again before you let out a disgruntled noise. A soft huff escaped your lips as you reluctantly slipped off the bed and pattered over to the fire escape. You grabbed some shorts on the way over, realizing that you were only in a hoodie and underwear. Matt couldn’t see you but you wanted to at least look somewhat presentable.

Matt’s frame was blocking out the moonlight but you could see that he was in his Daredevil suit. His shoulders were pulled taut but he seemed to relax slightly when he heard you moving around. You grabbed onto the edge of the window and shoved it up with all of your strength, a grunt escaping your lips from the effort.

“Hi,” You mumbled. Your voice was a little scratchy and it was obvious that you had just woken up as you stepped back, pulling the shorts on as you went. You rubbed the crusties from the corners of your eyes as he stepped through into your bedroom and you crossed back over to your bed. You didn’t feel any less tired. The antidepressants were really doing a number on you and you wanted to be awake and alert but there was a cloud of tiredness hanging above your head.

“Hey, was everything okay at work?” Matt asked as he pushed the window down to stop the cold night air blowing through. You nodded your head in response, pulling the covers around yourself as you curled up against the headboard. You really wanted to go back to sleep but you knew that you had to deal with this conversation first.

“Boss gave me the time off,” You muttered. Matt nodded his head and his head suddenly twitched to the side. His face pulled down into a frown but he refocused on you when he realized you had begun speaking, “He loves me too much for his own good and it’s really annoying that he had to come in. I needed that money but no, that just isn’t important, isn’t it?” You muttered bitterly. Matt’s eyebrows furrowed at your ranting and you looked up at him, “What do they even think I know? Why would they want to speak to me?” Matt shrugged his shoulders in response. He didn’t entirely know either but it was his mission for the night to figure it out.

He hadn’t had a chance to listen to their operations between the previous night and now. Otherwise, he would have warned you sooner and he would have told you to stay at home; he would have done a lot more. You sighed and rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hands again.

“I’m so tired,” You muttered. Matt frowned as he looked back in your direction. You couldn’t see where he was really looking because of the red lenses of his helmet but you assumed he was looking at you.

“The new meds?” He asked. You nodded in response. He could tell that they were having an effect, physiological. It was weird but something seemed different about how your body functioned. He had noticed it over the past few days but he felt weird commenting on it, “How long have you slept?” You shrugged.

“A few minutes after I text you until when you knocked,” You retorted. Matt nodded and suddenly his head twitched the side but before he could say anything, your bedroom door opened. Your roommate was standing in the doorway and she stared at you in the gloom of the room before her gaze moved to Matt who hadn’t made it out of sight before he had already been spotted.

Quinn - your roommate - just stared at Matt for a moment. Her jaw had dropped slightly, frozen in place as she took in the sight of The Daredevil in her apartment, in her roommate’s room. Quinn had no idea what to say. Her eyes narrowed before she looked at you. Your face had dropped, unsure what the hell to say to this scenario. You could probably make something up but right now, in your sleepy haze, you had absolutely nothing that you could come up with.

“I always knew you were into some weird shit,” Quinn stated before she shook her head disbelievingly and glanced behind her towards the front door of the apartment, “There’s some guy here for you?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you glanced at Matt but he spoke before you had a chance.

“Tell him to leave,” His voice sounded different. He had made it deeper, trying to be more intimidating. You glanced between him and your roommate and she simply nodded her head and walked off to the front door, too confused and tired to even question why Daredevil was in her roommate’s room. You shot up from the bed and closed your bedroom door but before you could say anything to Matt, his face fell.

Panic suddenly spread across his face and he pulled the bedroom door back open. You both came face-to-face with one of the men from the previous night. The man’s face twisted in annoyance at the sight of Daredevil and you stepped back into the bedroom. You didn’t know what to do and Matt took the lead, throwing the first punch.

You had seen Matt fight more than once but you had never been this close to it. You took another step back as Matt managed to land another punch. But the man was getting his fair share of hits and the two moved into the main room of your apartment.

Your gaze flicked off of them to your roommate - Quinn. Her head was bleeding and she looked dazed as she lifted her head up. Her eyelids were hanging heavy and you glanced from her to Matt.

He was fine. You knew he’d be fine so you made a break for it across the room but before you could get to Quinn, the man grabbed your arm. He threw you into the wall by your bedroom door and your head smacked harshly against it, paint chipping off the wall. You cried out in pain, cradling your head as Matt grabbed onto the man and the pair crashed through the dining room table.

From across the room, Quinn whimpered as she watched Matt and the man in horror. The table crumbled beneath the two heavy bodies and you flicked your gaze away from the table to Quinn. You had to protect her even if your head was throbbing in pain. She hadn’t signed up for any of this and it was your fault. It was your fault this was happening. So, while the man seemed to be occupied exchanging punches, you made a break across the room again.

But, the universe really wasn’t on your side, because as you stood up. The man had kicked Matt off and turned his sight on you, grabbing you. He yanked your hair back and you cried out as you lost your balance, falling on your ass. The man didn’t get another opportunity to hurt you though because Matt had wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, cutting off his airway.

You glanced back at Matt before crawling to Quinn. The woman was clearly dazed. Her gaze not quite focusing as you cupped her face, kneeling in front of her.

“Are you okay? Hey, Quinn? Look at me,” You mumbled out quickly. Quinn’s gaze slowly moved away from Matt - who had successfully forced the man to pass out - to you. You smiled softly, reaching out to check her face for wounds. There was just a cut across her forehead.

“What- Who- What just happened?” Quinn asked softly. Matt walked over, lingering over the top of the pair of you.

“You both need to get out of here,” Matt said before you got a chance to answer any of Quinn’s questions. His voice had dropped an octave again, doing his best to disguise his identity. You looked up at him, face crumpled.

“I don’t know where to go,” You stuttered out. He gave you a look and you quickly realized what that meant which quashed any fears that you had of suddenly being homeless.

“I can go to my sister’s,” Quinn said suddenly. You looked down at her, a frown spread across your face, “They’re not after me, right?” You shook your head.

“They’re after me. You’ll be safe, you just can’t be here,” you explained. Quinn sighed and she seemed to have come back to earth, no longer dazed by the fight that they had just witnessed. A hand ran through her hair and she nodded.

“I’ll grab a bag and head out. What are we gonna do about him?” Quinn asked, gesturing towards the man that was knocked out on the floor. Matt glanced at you and then at Quinn before he went back to the man.

“He’ll sort himself out,” Matt said. You nodded and then the three of you got into gear. You probably had a few minutes before the man came back to life and so, you packed a bag and Matt led the both of you out. Quinn was looking at the two of you strangely, as if she knew that it wasn't a coincidence that you happened to know Daredevil. It was like she knew something or wanted to ask something but she wasn’t saying a word.

When she got into a taxi, you both said bye and hugged each other before she disappeared. You then looked at Matt who had a frown on his face. He didn’t seem happy with anything that had happened tonight but he couldn’t really do anything about it. You were in danger and he had to try and do something to help you.

“Go to my place. I’ll be back later,” Matt said, not saying anything more than that. You stared at him, sighing before you nodded. He then disappeared up onto a rooftop while you headed down the block to his apartment. It wasn’t the first time you had gone to his apartment, you had been there more than once. He was one of your best friends but it still felt strange to be there without him or Foggy. The apartment building was eerily silent and when you unlocked the door with the spare key, the whole place felt unsafe.

But you knew that you were safe. You were at Matt’s place, you were safe. So, you locked the door and headed over to the sofa. You dropped your bag and took out the pill box, placing it on the coffee table. Your vitamins were in there, your tablets were in there. It was fine. You had been paranoid about forgetting them but you had them and you were safe.

You were just fine.

And so you curled up on the sofa and waited for Matt to come back.

Frank Castle was a fairly patient man but sitting on the roof waiting for Red was the last thing he wanted to be doing with his Saturday night. The two of them had places to be and shit to do. Yet, he was pissing about and leaving Frank in the freezing cold. To say that he was annoyed would be an understatement. He was ready to pummel Matt by the time that the masked man appeared on the rooftop. He looked roughed up already and that made Frank’s jaw tick.

“What time do ya call this, huh?” Frank snapped as he glanced over at the man. Matt scoffed as he walked over to Frank, perching beside him.

“I had something to deal with,” Matt stated bluntly. Frank scoffed and glanced around the city.

“We had a deal. I help you with this and I don’t pummel you. You’re making that real hard, Red,” Frank retorted as he glanced at Matt. Matt turned to look at him, clearly unimpressed by Frank’s frustration. Though, he hadn’t been in the freezing cold for the past hour alone.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Matt asked. Frank looked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question.

“I finish the business, I start. Now, where are these assholes?” Frank asked, not wanting to talk to him anymore than absolutely necessary. The next morning he planned on getting the hell out of town so he needed this done, tonight. And if he got his way, it would be.

next chapter

#frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle fic #reader-insert #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #frank castle x female reader #reader insert #the punisher

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merakiui · 2 months

Note

Since you don’t mind being asked for recommendations, do you have any horror or thriller book recommendations to give? I just thought that you must have read a lot to nail the terrifying atmosphere in your fics so well.

Aaaa thank you for saying so!!! I'm glad my fics have scary atmosphere. As for horror/thriller recs, here are a few that I have read and enjoyed!

Definitely the Red Eye series. I can't recommend it enough. orz but my personal favorites from the series would be:

✧ Frozen Charlotte by Alex Bell (also the prequel Charlotte Says) - these are amazing. I can't recommend Alex Bell's work enough. I reread Frozen Charlotte every year because it's such a delicious horror story. I may be biased because of the Victorian charm it has, especially in the prequel, but overall it's really enjoyable and I highly recommend it.

✧ Flesh & Blood by Simon Cheshire - THE ENDING. OHHHHH, IT GUTTED ME IN THE BEST WAY. I loved the suspicion in this one. So tangible.

✧ Sleepless by Lou Morgan - this one was great! The concept of wealthy uni students getting their hands on "study aid" drugs and then losing their minds as a result was so fascinating to read about. It's been a while since I've read it, so I can't remember if it was truly horrifying. Moreso unsettling.

✧ Savage Island by Bryony Pearce (also the sequel Cruel Castle) - THIS STORY. OMG IT GUTTED ME IN THE WORST WAY. I had to take a walk after I read the last chapter in Savage Island. Savage Island is such a brutal horror. It made me squirm. It was just so !!!!!!!!!! Cruel Castle was also an enjoyable sequel filled with lots of tension.

✧ Whiteout by Gabriel Dylan - I love novels that confine the characters to a bleak backdrop, especially when it's in the middle of winter. Stuck in a ski resort that's been snowed in... aaaaa what a yummy premise. From beginning to end, I was on the edge of my seat.

As for things outside of the Red Eye:

✧ The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole - a gothic classic!!! I love the haunting imagery. It sticks with me.

✧ The Brothers Grimm fairy tales - I can't recommend just a single fairy tale because I think all of them are wonderful. So creepy. orz

✧ The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe - AAAAAA I LOVE TELL-TALE HEART!!!!!! One of my favorite works by Poe. The unreliable narrator, the tension, the suspense, the breakdown at the end when he tears up the floorboards........ so good.

There is so much more I want to recommend, but I can't remember the titles of everything. T_T my brain is scrambled egg,,,, but one day I will create a reading list/favorite fiction list and share it for more recs!!! >w<

#chit chat #meraki recs

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satuguro · 1 year

Text

✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT IV: THE VALKYRIE'S FALL]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you really shouldn't work at a coffee shop, enid forces you on a shopping spree, and xavier finally snaps.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb (kind of) to lovers, slowburn, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, familial issues (will be mentioned in this part), gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (in some other parts)

#AUTHORSNOTE— it's official— this series is gonna be a slowburn. thank you for the continuous support !

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

you learned quite quickly that maybe you weren't as good as talking to people as you thought.

you weren't particularly social; your sisters taught you to keep to yourself. as a kid, you often played alone. any friends you made in your multiple foster homes were oftentimes temporary. you always ended up running away in the end, and you were always found at the same location.

1297 brook street.

you were always out on the porch of the old house, slamming your fists into the door as you screamed for the owner of the house to open it. you screamed at them to look at you, to face what she feared most, and you were always, always pulled away from that damned house and put in another foster home. the cycle continued for years.

so no, you weren't the best with speaking to others. not without the occasional snarky comment. but as you worked at the weathervane, reluctantly walking up to a group of normie boys, you found yourself trying to be civil. not only to xavier (who you had been ignoring since you both started), but to the customers.

emphasis on trying.

"what can i get you?" you asked the group with a forced smile, clicking your pen against your notepad.

"i'll get a latte," one of the boys chirped, and you nodded as you wrote it down, listening to the rest of their orders.

"that kid's from nevermore, right?" one of the boys asked, nodding over to xavier. you followed his nod to where xavier stood, giving a few girls their orders. he was talking to them casually, a small smile gracing his face after one of the girls complimented him.

"what's it to you?" you asked, turning your attention back to the needy highschooler. you were only a little bit surprised that they could easily tell who was an outcast and who wasn't, but you assumed it was because xavier had gone to nevermore much longer than you had. this was your first year, after all.

"nevermore kids have always been fuckin' weird," the boy stated factually.

you almost wanted to laugh. you put on an apron and some casual clothes, and suddenly you weren't an outcast. they must've deemed you as 'normal' enough to fit in with them— how pathetic.

"oh, really?" you chose to entertain him for a little longer, pretending to be really into his 'cool' take. but there was that familiar glint in your eye that showed just how irked you were. "how else would you describe them?"

"kooky, dangerous, fuckin' crazy," the guy and his friends snickered, nudging each other as though they were suddenly stand up comedians, "trust me. it's a good thing that after today they'll go back to their creepy-ass castle and stay there."

you hummed in faux agreement, opening your mouth to finally tell them of your fib, before the guy continued.

"you should stay away from them. especially him," he nodded at xavier. "hang out with us instead," he looked you up and down as though you were a piece of meat.

your fake smile immediately fell at that comment, the hand holding your pen gripping it tighter as you stood back up. you took a step closer to the normie, fully ready to beat him to a pulp, before a hand grabbed your shoulder and turned you around immediately.

"what the hell, thorpe?" you hissed, feeling his hands on your shoulders as he quite literally steered you away from them. he let you to where tyler— wednesday's friend that xavier obviously disliked —stood behind the cafe bar.

"what happened now?" tyler asked, obviously concerned as he looked at the group of boys sitting in the booth. they were all talking amongst themselves, their eyes set on you and xavier.

wordlessly, you shoved the notepad with their orders towards tyler, refusing to look at xavier as he scolded you.

"you were about to beat him up, and while he did have it coming, this isn't the right place for that." xavier leaned on the cafe bar, eyes still warily set on you. "are you even listening?"

"i don't have to look at you to be listening," you snapped, taking one of the boys' orders from tyler.

"you two just never stop arguing do you," tyler commented as he pulled another espresso shot and poured it into a mug. he turned around to finish the drink. as per usual, xavier ignored him.

you observed the latte for a second before you leaned over it, letting a huge glob of spit plop into the mug.

"you've got to be kidding," xavier groaned, and you sent him an innocent smile as you took the next order from tyler. luckily for you, tyler was too preoccupied with making drinks to notice that you spat in the next mug. and the next. and the next— you spat in every single one of their mugs.

you reached for a tray and began placing the mugs on it, avoiding xavier's eyes as you said, "they were saying shit about nevermore—"

xavier's eyebrows furrowed, "people say shit all the time—"

"and about you," you finished. you picked up the mugs and looked at him, your expression unreadable. you turned to walk to the boys, your fakest smile gracing your face yet again as you passed out the mugs. "here you go, boys."

"bet you actually are one of those nevermore freaks," the same guy who had been flirting with you said as he took his mug. he took a sip from it, one that you watched sadistically. you reached over to place a mug in front of his other friend, only for his hand to come up and grab your arm— the one with your tattoo on it. "i bet this is some cult shit, isn't it?"

and with that, you set the mugs down on the table and punched him in the nose. the strength of your punch knocked his head back against the seat of the booth, making everyone turn their heads your way. there was a sickening crack that echoed in the air the second your knuckles collided with his face.

"you broke my nose!" the boy yelled, holding his profusely bleeding nose with a handful of napkins.

"never touch me again." you huffed angrily, brushing off your bloodied knuckleson your apron as you turned to his friends, who were frantically checking to see if he was okay. "enjoy your coffee," you said through gritted teeth, talking back to where xavier and tyler stood.

"okay, maybe i should teach you how to make drinks," tyler motioned for you to come to the other side of the bar, concern evident on his face.

"they had it coming that time," xavier muttered to you as you passed him.

a small, proud smile graced your face at that.

most of the day continued in relative peace, the only problems being the constant bickering between you and xavier. you could tell that you both were wearing tyler out by the hour. he only ever really conversed with you, for his attempts to talk to xavier were quickly ignored. you observed how they acted around each other; it was as though tyler kept trying to get along with him while xavier just couldn't care less.

it was like they had history.

the sight of a familiar pigtailed girl made you look to the side of the cafe bar, a small chuckle of amusement escaping your lips. xavier and wednesday walked up to the cafe bar; xavier's mood seemed to lighten up significantly.

"lovesick fool," you muttered under your breath as they approached, before looking at wednesday confusedly. you placed your arms on the counter and leaned forward. "that happened to pilgrim world?"

"i deserted my post with what little sanity i have left." wednesday peered at your bruised hand for a second, eyes snapping back up to meets yours. "did you beat someone up?"

"she broke some normie's nose," xavier explained, copying your actions as he leaned on the counter. he managed a shadow of a smile as he looked at wednesday, asking, "do you want coffee? i think y/n finally learned how to make something edible."

"i'm sure you know all about edible things, wouldn't you," you grumbled under your breath, making xavier send you a warning glare.

"i'm actually here for tyler."

xavier's lighthearted smile fell at that, the psychic not even trying to hide his obvious discontent. "i told you he was bad news."

you raised a brow at xavier, your previous observation of xavier's immediate dislike of tyler only confirmed by his words. "why is that?" you asked curiously, ignoring wednesday's look.

she didn't seem to agree with xavier's words.

"you told me twice. but who i speak to is my business." wednesday stated, turning to ring the cafe's bell.

xavier's jaw clenched as his eyes trailed down, jealousy overcoming him as he allowed wednesday to talk to who she actually came to the cafe for.

tyler came out from the back, an immediate smile making its way onto his face at the sight of the dreary girl. "you rang?" he asked, making xavier scoff and walk the other way to join you behind the counter.

"you're both horrible," you said matter-of-factly as you cleaned the espresso machine absentmindedly. for someone who was so keen and in touch with her senses, wednesday was completely blind to the fact that the two boys were fawning over her. that, or she just didn't care— you were guessing that it was the latter.

"shut up," xavier grumbled as he walked past you. "don't even start on the thing you always say—"

"what, about just telling her how you feel?" you rolled your eyes, hearing the familiar ding of the door as wednesday made her leave. "i'm giving you sold advice," you took your rag and walked to the sink where xavier was washing some mugs, "and you just keep ignoring it,"

"i don't need advice for this. especially not from a past hookup."

"what, does that matter?" you narrowed your eyes at him as you placed your rag next to the sink.

"and that shit you pulled at the poe cup?" xavier glared at you, his cheeks burning red, "you can't not act like the shit we did that one night was a one time thing when you pulled that on me."

"why are we even talking about this?" you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. "it worked. my team won. i was just fucking with you, thorpe."

"right." xavier continued washing the mugs, refusing to look at you as he did. he didn't like you romantically — he didn't think he did, at least.

he was sure it was just enamor. you were attractive and had a certain beauty to you had left him finding himself drawing you time and time again. but your obvious dislike of him was something that couldn't be ignored— especially your avoidance of anything that showed attachment. it wasn't like he was blind. he could see that you constantly kept yourself guarded even when you didn't believe you were. you could be surrounded by enid and wednesday, the two people he was sure that you were friends with, but you wouldn't tell them anything about yourself that wasn't about your long record of trouble or something about school.

wednesday talked about her brother and mother sometimes. enid mentioned her brothers almost daily, especially to xavier; she missed them, but they were a constant reminder that she hadn't wolfed out yet. the most anyone knew about you that wasn't remotely violent was that you was that you liked pottery.

he only eavesdropped a couple times, but it only confirmed his conclusion; in reality, wednesday and enid knew nothing about you. no one did.

"are you going to the dance, y/n?"

you shook your head as you sat stiffly next to xavier in botany. it was an unfortunate accident, honestly; you were late to class one time and you had to sit next to him out of all the people. botany wasn;t you strong suit; you had the opposite of a green thumb. "it's not really my thing. besides— i didn't get asked."

“never took you as someone who wouldn’t ask first,” xavier commented as he leaned down to get his sketchbook. he let out a groan as he grabbed it before placing it on your shared table.

you only shrugged in response, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. absentmindedly, you watched him, asking "what'd you do?"

"i tweaked my back while fencing."

"pay more attention to stretching, then." you narrowed your eyes at some claw marks on his neck. his collar didn't completely cover up the entirety of the wound, making the three claw marks visible under it.

"the orchid produces a pheromone that mimics a female insect.." ms. thornhill explained in the background, but you were too focused on his marks to pay full attention.

"where'd that come from?" you asked, nodding at his neck.

xavier huffed in annoyance, focusing on thornhill ahead of him as he responded. "those images i drew of the monster. my abilities made it come to life and it attacked me."

you didn't seem entirely convinced, but you nodded anyway.

"luring the males in," thornhill continued to move her hands passionately as she spoke, "now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?"

"nada. just like all the guys at the rave'n," bianca said with an amused smile, all the students laughing at her joke.

"okay, okay," thornhill calmed all of you down with her hands and a smile, "i know you're all excited about saturday, which is why i haven't assigned any homework." she paused as sounds of agreement echoed through her conservatory, "but i do still need volunteers for the decorating committee."

hands shot up from around the crowd, your head still boredly on your palm as you observed them.

"anyone interested, come and see me up here."

"you're not gonna volunteer?" xavier asked you teasingly, a smirk gracing his face. "with you being able to fly, i'm sure you can help put some of the disco balls up." he only seemed half serious about his words, but guessing by his teasing tone, he was probably just messing with you. "there's even a dj— mc blood suckaz."

"they have ladders," you replied blankly. "and i'd rather not listen to whatever soundcloud rapper they hired to dj."

xavier chuckled softly to himself at that, watching you begin to pack up your things. he hesitated for a moment as he turned the words he was about to say in his head. but nonetheless, he said them anyway. "it'd be more tolerable if you invited someone. loosen up a little— god knows you need it."

"what's that supposed to mean? aren't you a prude?"

"you're a lot more prudish than me," xavier said in faux seriousness, putting his sketchpad in his bag and standing up. he swung his bag over his shoulder. "but i'm serious— haven't you thought about just asking someone?"

"no. i'd rather fight a war than go," you stated dryly, throwing your own bag over your own shoulder.

dances weren't your thing. a part of you always wanted to be asked to go to a dance— it was nice to be wanted sometimes —but you knew that it would be an overall bad idea. going to the dance was one of the many things that could risk you getting attached to another. and with a humanoid monster running around in the neighboring woods, you didn't want to get attached only to bring their soul up to heaven.

xavier walked away from you, leaving you standing near your desk. you sighed as you readied yourself to leave, only for a hand to come and tap your shoulder.

you turned around, being met with wednesday with thing on her shoulder. "did you see those scratches?" she asked you dryly, and you only nodded, motioning for her to follow you as you walked.

"he said he got it from those drawings he has of the monster— y'know, the one i told you about." you shrugged as you grabbed the straps of your backpack. "i'm not entirely convinced."

"neither am i. is that why we're following him?" wednesday looked further down ahead of the both of you, xavier's tied hair visible over many of the students.

"he always disappears after botany," you sent her a lopsided smile, "aren't you even a least bit curious?"

"i suppose."

the two of you followed xavier into the woods to where an abandoned building was. fortunately, both you and wednesday were knowledgeable in sneaking enough to remain undetected by the artist. your feet were light against the fallen leaves, barely making any loud noises as you came to a stop near the building. xavier slipped into it, disappearing for a few minutes before he came out again with a sketchbook in his hand.

your eyes followed him as he left. you waited for a minute before you and wednesday walked to the building. you opened the door, murmuring, "idiot doesn't even keep it locked," before you walked inside with wednesday close in tow.

xavier had seemingly turned the old building into a studio. the room was littered with art supplies ranging from charcoal, to pencils, to paint. easels were set up further down the room, all of them works in progreess. wednesday pulled down the switch to the light, and finally, you were able to see the images clearly.

almost every single piece of art had the monster on them. its eyes were huge as it stared at you from beyond the paper. its teeth were as sharp as you remember, and you found yourself reminiscing the way it felt when you kicked it away from rowan's dying body.

"every artist needs their muse," you murmured, peering up at the images.

wednesday picked up a few torn pages from xavier's book. "is this what you meant?" she asked you, and you looked over her shoulder and nodded. they were the pages you saw in xavier's book. one of the pages showed the monster in what seemed to be a spiral cave. wednesday immediately folded the pages and shoved them into her backpack. "let's go."

you walked out after wednesday, shutting the door gently behind you. wednesday had already walked back into the woods, and you turned, ready to follow her, only to hear footsteps right behind you.

"y/n?" xavier's voice called out, making you freeze as you turned around.

"thorpe." you responded in greeting, fists clenching and unclenching. oh, how you wished to be in wednesday's position, walking halfway down the woods without having to deal with being caught. "hi."

"hi— what're you doing?" xavier asked you, shoving his hands into his pockets. he looked at you suspiciously, but you forced yourself to play a cool front as you nodded at the studio.

"nothing. i just saw you walk over here; what is this place?" who were you kidding? you had snooped through the entire thing already; you knew exactly what it was. but you had to change the subject.

"it's kind of my private art studio," xavier said, turning to look at the studio before focusing on you again. "after i fixed it and clear it out, weems let me use it."

"that's nice of her. can i look inside?" you asked with a tilt of your head, eyes almost hopeful.

"it's a mess in there. maybe some other time." xavier shook his head. "but why were you looking for me?"

nervousness thrummed through your body as you searched your brain for an excuse. you cleared your throat, leaning back on the balls of your feet. "i wanted to ask about thornhill's homework."

"she didn't give us homework," xavier frowned. "remember?"

oh, you were so fucked. you swallowed thickly, racking your brain for another excuse.

but there was a smile tugging at the corners of xavier's lips. you watched him as he took a step towards you, humming as he pretended to think. "is this about a specific dance on saturday? what did you say again?"

"stop."

"'i'd rather fight a war than go,'" xavier mocked your tone of voice, making you groan. even in a situation like this, he was still so infuriating. but xavier looked like he was having a blast, his cheshire smile only growing. "well, go on. i'm listening."

you sent him a deadpan look. "are you really going to make me say it?"

"oh, absolutely," he was practically ecstatic at this point, seeing you so reluctant to ask the question. xavier grinned at you as you looked away from him.

a weary sigh escaped your lips as you muttered the question quietly.

"say it again?" xavier said, his smile so wide that his dimples were starting to show. he loved seeing you like this; it was so uncharacteristic of you to be so nervous when asking such a simple question. usually, you lacked any kind of filter and said what you wanted. but to see you roll the words in your mouth in preparation of saying it again; the sadistic part in him loved it.

"would you—" you let out a sharp exhale as you stuttered, forcing yourself to look directly into xavier's eyes. "would you think about going to the rave'n dance.."

xavier's eyes drifted up as he pretended to ponder your upcoming question. but the smug smirk on his face remained, which only made you all the more angry that you were in this position in the first place.

"would you go to the rave'n with me?" you forced out through gritted teeth, a sigh of relief escaping you.

xavier chuckled in amusement before nodding. "how kind of you for asking. i'd love to go to the dance with you, y/n. i thought you'd never ask."

"you only want to go because i asked you first."

"yeah, but it was completely worth it," xavier laughed, making you roll your eyes and turn away from him. with that, you walked away, fully ready to tell wednesday of your predicament.

you returned to your room, face burning red as you shut the door behind you and announced to your roommates blankly, "i'm going to the rave'n with xavier."

wdenesday almost wanted to laugh.

"oh my god— y/n odinsdottir is going to the rave'n?" enid squealed, jumping out of her bed to grab you by the shoulders. you only let her, standing stiffly as she shook you.

"how did you get yourself into that predicament?" wednesday asked flatly, looking up from her desk to look at you.

"he arrived after you left the studio," you grumbled, ignoring enid's squeal. "i had to come up with something to not seem suspicious."

"stick close to him. it'll give us a chance to have more intel," wednesday stated, making you shrug.

you weren't one to use people for information, but with the abundance in murders in the woods and the fact that you didn't want to go to the dance inthe first place, you couldn't help but agree. besides; the quicker you got the monster, the less lives would be lost. "sure, why not."

"you know that you need?" enid asked, clapping her hands together in realization.

"revenge."

"a dress!"

you shifted uncomfortably at the idea. but enid was right; you had no dresses. you liked them, sure, but you haven't worn one in ages. the idea of it was kind of nerve-racking. you sighed, officially giving up as you nodded. "you're right, i do."

"wednesday— you and thing have to come along with us! we need opinions!" enid practically skipped over to her bag, throwing it over her shoulder.

"you already know that the answer is no. why are you even asking?" wednesday said drearily, watching the overly ecstatic girl practically jump around the room.

"because y/n will be miserable trying out all those dresses!" enid said casually, sending you a quick apologetic smile. "sorry, y/n."

you could only sigh in exasperation. "it's the thought that counts. i guess."

"i suppose i wouldn't mind seeing y/n in some misery." wednesday stood up abruptly, thing climbing onto her shoulder. "i'll come along."

"oh my god, this is like a girl's day!" enid hooked her arms under wednesday's, practically dragging her over to you. "i can't believe that excuse actually made you want to go."

you didn't know what to expect when enid dragged you to a store called 'hawte kewture.' the obvious lack of care for spelling and punctuation already made you cringe inwardly; you weren't even inside yet.

"isn't this exciting?" enid asked, grinning wildly, "our first roomie shopping spree! the dance committee's suggesting all white to match the theme, but that's not gonna fly with us."

"i'd literally rather do anything but worry about a dress for a dance i don't want to go to," you grumbled, your grumpiness doing nothing to deter enid's positivity.

"i have more pressing matters to attend to." with that, wednesday left, not even listening to enid's complain of, 'but we were bonding!'

"she has a lot to deal with, i guess," you mumbled, slightly envious as enid pulled you into the shop after yoko, divina, and their friend. the shop was as bright as it was on the outside, and while you could certainly see its appeal for someone like enid, it just wasn't your taste. the entire area was full of pastel colors, and while their dress collection was wide, you were sure that you really had to look for a dress you'd like.

"y/n. i heard you asked xavier to the dance," yoko said as you and enid walked up to her. her arm was around divina, and she sent you a fanged smile.

"i did," you said though gritted teeth. curse nevermore students and their huge tendency to gossip. "i really hate how gossip spreads that quickly."

"i mean, it was kind of weird news to hear," enid said as you all walked to a rack. her hands began to look through the dresses that hung on the clothesrack as she continued, "you and xavier have been at each other's throats since the moment you two met. and the fact that you asked him!" enid laughed to herself, "i've never been more proud!"

"thanks. i think." you absentmindedly looked through the dresses. all of them weren't your style, and you only looked on boredly as you swiped through each one.

for an hour, you watched the others find their dresses. each of them would try their options on and do a faux catwalk for you out of the changing room, only to be fired down by your opinions. you tried to be as honest as possible— they did ask you to, after all —and you guessed that this was a fitting scenario to be brutally honest.

enid did have to tell you to lower the ante on the brutally part.

but as you sat there on the sofa chair the employees had kindly provided for you, you found yourself close to giving up. that is, until your eyes landed on a dress on a mannequin.

it was a golden, nearly off the shoulder dress that flowed down beautifully. its shoulders were cut out, but the arm sleeves were cut open to reveal a silky cloth that fell all the way down. there was a loosely tied silk belt around the waist, and a deeper gold thread acted as an intricate design in the middle of the dress. you walked up and observed it closer, looking at the back of the dress. it dipped enough to show off your back tattoo.

"this dress would be perfect, y/n!" enid said excitedly as she came up behind you. "it's the perfect shade of gold and won't stand in too much, and screams 'look at me!' you should try it on."

"so where are we putting the murder board?" you asked wednesday as you hung your dress up in your closet. the pitter patter of thing's fingers came your way, and you looked down and managed a small smile. "it's nice, right? i got it yesterday."

"it's very fitting," thing signed in response. "are you excited?"

"gods, no." you laughed, brushing off some dust from the dress. "i'd rather be anywhere but there."

you were just looking at it as an excuse to dress up and look pretty. it was also an excuse to gain more information out of xavier; there was something up with him, you had to admit that.

there was nothing else going on besides that.

"we're keeping at eugene's beekeeping quarters." wednesday held the board in her hands, glancing into your closet. "i see you actually found something to wear. was the process as miserable as enid said it would be?"

"it was the only dress i tried on. the others were revolting." you picked up the photos from wednesday's bed, along with a small box of tacks.

truthfully, you hadn't gone out to eugene's beekeeping quarters ever since you arrived at nevermore. you talked to eugene occasionally— you found it interesting that he could casually control bees as though they were nothing, and his personality was a little quirky, but you didn't mind. he was just a kid.

"y/n! you finally came out here," eugene said with a bright smile, fixing the scarf wrapped around his neck.

"just here to help wednesday with the murder board," you said with a shrug, managing a small smile. "how's the honey?"

"here!" eugene handed you a small mason jar full of honey. "i know you ran out the last time i gave you some, so i got you a bigger batch!"

"thank you," you said sincerely, a rare, genuine smile making its way onto your face at his kindness. you had told him previously that you liked to mix honey in with your tea on gloomy days, and now you had an endless supply of honey.

"i assume this is the creature that's been rampaging the woods?" eugene asked, pointing towards one of xavier's art pieces.

"you've heard about it before?" wednesday asked.

"just rumors. i'm banned from bug hunting until further notice," eugene turned to you, his toothy grin wide as he continued, "i heard you kicked it!"

"i did," you squinted at the photos of all the victims. you could almost feel the pain they were in; your abilities only allowed you to bring souls that were under a war, or someone who died in a fight. the victims of the monsters were unsuspecting. there was no war when they were killed; they were killed for fun.

but because you were technically an an angel, you could easily feel the anguish they experienced prior to their deaths. almost none of them had any idea that they would be killed so quickly and so brutally. they died in confusion and shock.

"mr. fitts claimed that a bear was on the loose, but i knew it was a lie— it didn't match their hibernation schedules." eugene's eyes raised when he remembered something, and he turned around to bring out another mason jar of honey. "speaking of monsters with sharp claws, could you give this to your roomie?" he handed it to wednesday, who only looked at it blankly. "i hear she's still sans date for the rave'n."

"eugene," wednesday said in a warning tone. you hid your chuckles behind a quick cough.

"i know the chances of her asking me are next to zero, but i don't care!" the poor boy was so optimistic that you had to fully turn your attention to the murder board to stop yourself from letting him down easily.

maybe you were getting a hang of not being too brutally honest.

"i'll continue to put myself out there until enid finally.. sees me," eugene sighed a lovesick sigh.

"and if she never does?" wednesday asked judgementally, a hint of jealousy in her tone. how unusual was it that the usual stone cold wednesday seemed only mildly perturbed that a kid wanted to ask enid out?"

"i'm playing the long game," eugene responded confidently, making another chuckle leave your lips. "my moms say people will appreciate me when i'm older. they're probably just trying to make me feel better."

poor kid.

"i know you're going to the rave'n, y/n. how did you end up asking xavier?" eugene asked innocently, but you only groaned in response.

"gods, this again. i had to ask him because wednesday and i got caught investigating," your mood soured at the reminder of having to go to the dance with xavier. if he thought that you were dressing up for him, he was as stupid as you thought. "i have ulterior motives, though."

"that sucks, but at least you have a date!" eugene said with that usual nonstop optimism of his. "but wednesday, are you not going to the rave'n?"

"no. everything on this murder board is far more pressing than a school dance." wednesday crossed her arms over her chest as she gazed at xavier's art. "sketches are the closest thing i have to a lead to try and stop this thing."

"that spiral thing the monster's standing on," eugene said, squinting through his glasses. "i think i know where that is."

eugene led you both to a huge spiral cave, the dark void inside doing nothing to calm the goosebumps you received upon your arrival. the entire thing felt like it had horrible negative energy and the feeling of eyes watching you never ceased. hesitantly, you let your sword appear, the metal glinting in the soft sunlight. you gripped the familiar handle as you began to walk closer to the cave with the both of them behind you.

"don't worry, y/n! i'm sure we'll be able to help you if the monster is in here!" eugene chuckled nervously, following close behind your form.

"do you see anything?" wednesday asked you, but as you peered into the deep hole, you found nothing but darkness.

"no." you shook your head, "we'd have to go in if we wanted to find something."

"i can't go in there." eugene shook his head rapidly, stepping back from the cave. "i'm claustrophobic."

you were already going into the cave, your steps careful at the steep entrance and your head bowed low. wednesday looked at eugene. "if you hear us screaming bloody murder, i'm probably enjoying it. y/n, not so much." with that, the turned back to the cave and went after you.

eugene sighed before following closely behind wednesday.

the den of the cave was a lot wider and taller than its entrance. you looked down at the bones that were near your feet. you were thankful that they were deer bones.

eugene's flashlight landed on a pair of chains that hung on the wall of the cave. you reached forward with your sword and moved it. your sword went up to trace the scratched that were on the wall of the cave, your lips tugging into a frown. "these chains are strong, but not strong enough," you thought out loud.

"yahtzee." wednesday crouched down to pull a claw out of a crack in the cave. "this will be our concrete proof to the sheriff," she said to you.

that was how you found yourself at xavier's studio yet again, looking around xavier's trash bin. it was wednesday's plan, but you offered to go inside instead of her; you probably had more leeway. so while you were inside, wednesday was out in the bushes, and thing was keeping watch near the door.

one of your hands held a ziplock bag as you used a paintbrush to poke around his trash. a victorious smile tugged at your lips when you found a bloodied rag at the very bottom. "gotcha."

the sound of the door creaking made you quickly put the napkin in the ziplock bag and pocket it, your body turning away form the trash. you were face to face with xavier, who only seemed shocked that you were inside.

"the hell are you doing in here?" xaiver asked, obviously annoyed by your sudden entrance.

"are you sure that the monster's just been in your visions?" you asked him, looking at the huge canvases dedicated to one monster. "or are these self portraits?"

"you cannot be serious right now," xavier laughed bitterly, but you continued on, taking a step towards him.

"you saved wednesday's life once. the monster was attacking rowan when he was attacking wednesday— it practically saved her." your tone was becoming more accusatory by the second, your brows knotting together as the pieces began to fall into place.

"this is literally the painting that came to life and swiped at me," xavier nodded to a nearby canvas of an unfinished painting of the monster. "cmon, y/n. i've explained myself to you so many times—"

"and the lair in the woods?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "from one of your sketchbooks. you drew the monster in its lair, thorpe."

xavier's face contorted into a pained expression. he wasn't sure what he expected from you; a part of him did think that your ask was genuine. it was all too complicated for him to explain— it was like he liked that you asked him but didn't at the same time. it was all too much of a mess to make any sense of it, but as he stood in front of you while you interrogated him, it suddenly all made sense.

"you were in here. god, of course," xavier laughed in disbelief, "when i caught you outside. you were just snooping around in here." he shook his head to himself, the overall disbelief being too much to comprehend. "you were just gonna use me, weren't you?"

"gods, no—"

"no, you were," xavier hissed, "what were you gonna go to the dance with me and ask me for more info? is that it, so that you and wednesday can prove i'm the monster? i've explained myself enough for you both to believe me."

"it's nothing personal, thorpe, jesus christ."

he chuckled darkly to himself, his voice raising as he said, "nothing is ever personal with you, y/n," he spat, the comment making your facade fall for a second. "no one knows anything genuine about you. your roommates barely know a thing about you because you're so fucking guarded all the time! do you even care about anyone or anything that isn't even remotely violent?"

you swallowed thickly, your mouth opening to defend yourself before xavier continued to speak.

"all you know is war."

he didn't understand.

"fuck you," you seethed, shoving past him as you made your way out of the studio. you walked towards where wednesday was hidden in the bushed, her expression blank as usual as you gave her the bloodied rag. without another word, you walked back to your dorm.

xavier's words echoed in your head as you walked, your throat feeling constricted as you swallowed thickly.

all you know is war.

"fucking stupid," you muttered under your breath, angry tears slipping out of your eyes that you harshly wiped.

in a way, you knew that xavier was right.

it wasn't like you could help it— you were quite literally an angel of war —but you also knew that that wasn't an excuse for it all. your second eldest sister, eir, was millennia years old, and yet she was the most peaceful out of your siblings. whenever a disagreement would break out, she was there to help. whenever brunhilde and your father, odin, fought, eir was the one who stepped in.

she was a peacemaker as much as she was wonderful at her job. you always heard stories about her from your sisters; she never fought a war that she had tried to previously avoid.

you wished you were like her.

you turned a different corridor from where your dorm was located, finding yourself standing in front of weem's office door. taking a deep breath, you knocked. weems' muffled, 'come in!' made you open the door.

"y/n." weems seemed as shocked as you to find you standing at her doorway. her eyesbrows were raised high above her forehead as you shut the door behind you and walked towards her briskly.

"i need you," you swallowed thickly again. gods, you hated crying. "i need you to burn those old documents. the ones about my foster homes."

"you and i both know that i can't do that, y/n." weems' voice was calm as she placed her hands on her desk, clasping them together. "are you alright, dear?"

"i'm fine," you forced out, sniffing harshly, "i just— please, just burn them. get rid of them. anything."

weems sighed, bringing out your folder. she brought out the forms from your orphanage, all paperclipped together neatly. in the front was a photo of you when you were younger; barely 7, with two missing teeth missing as you smiled at the polaroid camera.

"i cannot burn these forms, y/n."

"they have everything about me that i've moved on from," your words were so quick that they seemed to mold together. you were frantic at this point, yet you took a deep breath to calm yourself. "my sisters had those forms terminated because i wanted to forget that part of my life."

"you cannot easily forget 13 years of your life, y/n," weems said concernedly, "it will be a part of you for the rest of your life."

"i don't want it to be," you spat bitterly, eyes burning with tears again as you practically pleaded with her. "i've worked so hard to forget that part of my life, so please. burn them."

"i cannot do that, y/n." weems was firm with her decision, which only made you sniff again, harshly wiping your nose.

you left weems' office abruptly, your obviously turmoiled mind making you go to the archery range. it was dark outside now, but you still found yourself stretching your wings out and flying over jericho. the cold air whipped your face as you tried to ignore xavier's words that still repeated like a mantra in your head.

all you know is war.

you were flying for hours it seemed, too deep in your thoughts to force yourself to return to your dorm. but you had to admit that it was a beautiful night; the full moon was out tonight, and you heard the distant howling of wolves in the forest. the stars were shining as bright as ever over your head as you flew.

flying gave you peace.

the next morning, you begrudgingly approached wednesday and eugene, both in deep conversation about the monster in the quad.

"y/n— we're going to stake out the cave and identify the monster." eugene said, obviously much too excited to be doing something dangerous. "oh wait; i forgot you were going to the dance."

"not anymore," you stated dryly, hands holding onto the straps of your backpack. you glanced at eugene and wednesday and shook your head. "i'm not gonna explain." you looked over at xavier, who was working on his raven mural. he glanced at you only briefly before focusing on his mural again.

that night, you shoved on a black backless longsleeve as you got ready to stake out with eugene. you had to be ready in case anything happened; you brought your sharpest knives and packed snacks to keep yourself full of energy. you put on an black leather jacket over your clothes, turning to wednesday, who was also getting ready.

the jacket was your father's. it was one of the few things he had given you the last time he saw you.

a knock on the door made you turn your head, wednesday yelling, "coming eugene!" as she walked over.

"hey, did you grab any extra batteries for the flash—tyler." her voice died in her throat when she saw the barista standing at the doorway.

"tyler?" you peeked over the side of the door, eyebrows raising when you saw the boy's all-white getup and the corsage in his hands. "wednesday, i thought you weren't going to the dance," you said cautiously, sending the pigtailed girl a look.

"i got your invite," tyler stammered, holding up an envelope. "i'm guessing you had thing drop it in the tip jar?"

you snorted as you returned to packing your things, thing climbing up your bed as they made a sign that looked a lot like laughing. "it was you, wasn't it?" you asked amusedly, and thing nodded proudly.

"good guess." wednesday forced out, and you chuckled to yourself as their conversation died into the background.

"are you sure you're not going to the dance?" thing asked you, making you sigh as you shoved your flashlight into your backpack.

"i'm staying away from socializing for a while," you said in response, eyes cold as you finally zipped up your backpack. "it's prbably for the best."

"that sounds like the opposite of what you should do," thing signed.

"it's whatever. my sisters were right, anyway." the door shut on tyler as wednesday quickly walked to her closet, obviously bothered by thing's interference.

"genuine and sweet? how could you do this to me?" wednesday asked, fully betrayed by thing as she rummaged through her closet. "can you believe it, y/n? he actually believed i would write a sweet letter— how oblivious."

"truly." you glanced at thing as they pointed at a dress on wednesday's bed. it was a beautifully gothic dress, one that you were sure was made for wednesday, but you found yourself frowning. "are you not gonna stake out with eugene and i?"

"no, i can't. not after what thing pulled—"

"c'mon wednesday, just admit that you wanna go with tyler to the dance," you groaned, throwing your backpack over your back. "i'm gonna head out. don't do anything i wouldn't do."

the entire main entryway of nevermore was decked out for the rave'n. white cloth hung from the different entrances, and light up trees created a frame over doorways. people passed by you left and right, all dressed in complete white for the occasion.

you walked by bianca and xavier, xavier's eyes avoiding yours just as easily as you avoided his.

"where's wednesday?" eugene asked you as you walked down the steps. he was just as ready as you were, dressed in multiple layers and with his backpack practically bulging with what you knew were snacks.

"she decided to go to the dance. it'll just be us tonight," you said eugene, fixing the straps of your backpack. you watched his face fall, and you nudged him to try and lighten the mood. "it'll be okay. wednesday rarely willingly goes to events like the rave'n; she can sit this stake out out."

"it was her idea, though." eugene said sadly, following you as you walked out of the building.

you walked out into the woods with eugene, the night air cold against your face as you twirled a knife in your hand absentmindedly. thankfully, it seemed to be a pretty quiet night, as the only sounds were coming from the crickets and the wind.

"do you two really think that xavier is the mosnter?" eugene asked you as he pulled his second granola bar out of his backpack, opening it and taking a bite.

"he's a suspect. that's all." the cave came into view, and you crouched down near a nearby tree. "we can stay here." you made yourself comfortable as you leaned up against the tree, eugene sitting next to you.

he pulled out a recorder and began to talk into it. "eugene ottinger and—" he motioned for you to speak into it, and you sighed as you moved your head closer.

"y/n odinsdottir."

"2100 hours," eugene continued, "no movement at the cave. no sign of the target." the sound of a rather large grasshopper rang in his ears, and he smiled fondly. "although, i just heard a rare club-horned grasshopper."

you smiled softly to yourself as you listened to him. he reminded you a lot of the friends you made at your foster homes; all of them were bright and intelligent kids, all with their own specific interests that they never stopped talking about. when you were younger, you liked to listen to them. but depending on the house, they often lacked the freedom to speak so freely of their interests.

people weren't kind.

you both sat comfortably for nearly 2 hours, talking occasionally to each other. eugene was too busy snacking to talk most of the time, and when he did talk, he talked about bees and bugs. you swore you never met someone who could tell you the scientific name for practically every bug imaginable. sometimes, he even left your post to catch rare bugs.

"do you like, understand nordic?"

eugene's question made you snap out of your little bubble, your head turning away from the cave to glance at him.

"old norse, yeah," you replied, managing a tight lipped smile. "it's kind of automatic; comes with the whole valkyrie thing."

"that's so cool! i mean, i wish i could talk a whole other language. one some people might be able to understand, not just bees," eugene said casually. he had caught a bug moment before, and he was staring at it as he spoke.

your eyes drifted back to the cave, squinting as a car pulled up nearby it. you shushed eugene, your hand reaching for one of your knives.

"eugene ottinger and y/n odinsdottir. 22:42 hours." eugene whispered behind you as you grabbed some binoculars to look closer. usually you'd rely on your heightened eyesight, but you needed to gather as much evidence of the suspect as you could. "potential subject has arrived at location."

your brows knotted together as you watched the figure light something on fire and throw it into the cave. but suddenly, the figure's flashlight flashed towards you and eugene, the sudden brightness blinding you from seeing their face. but you felt like something was wrong, because right as the figure turned away and ran, you immediately turned around, your wings appearing to surround you and eugene.

the sound of an explosion made your ears ring, your arms wrapping around eugene tightly to keep him within the bubble of your wings. the fire was hot against your feathers as you waited for a second before letting eugene go. "we need to go. now."

eugene nodded frantically before the both of you ran back to nevermore. you let eugene run ahead of you, fearful that whoever was behind you would get to him first. you grabbed eugene, pulling him aside behind a tree. you raised your finger to your lips before whispering to him.

"i'm gonna carry you and fly out of here, got it?" you asked, and eugene could only nod quickly. your arms wrapped around eugene, ready to fly, until a pained groan left your lips.

long claws dug into your wings, staining the white of your wings red. the air was torn out of you as the monster lifted you up, your kicking doing nothing as you were lifted by the end of your wings.

you were horrified when you looked at eugene, who had a very faint golden glow around him.

when a glow was faint, that meant it was only up to the gods to decide whether or not he would survive.

"run!" you yelled at eugene, who quickly snapped out of his trance to run further towards nevermore.

you were held up in front of the monster, too far away from its body to make genuine damage. it was intelligent enough to know that it had to keep you from looking at it; being face to face with it would mean you could bring genuine damage. drops of your blood dropped onto the forest floor as the claws dug deeper into your back and your wings. you could feel the warm liquid seep down your back. you grabbed your made your sword appear, forcefully reaching behind you as you sliced the monster's arm.

but it did nothing to deter it. if anything, it only angered it more, its roar ringing wildly in your ears. it swatted your sword away with its free hand, making it land far away from you.

the monster used its free hand to grab your desperately flapping wings, taking one of them and bending them in half with a sickening crack.

and with that, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. it was as though someone had broken your spine and your leg all at once; the pain shot through your body like poison, and you found yourself sobbing as the pain seared you.

the monster reached for your other wing, which flapped twice as hard as you tried to escape its hold. but its claws were hooked into your skin and the roots of your wings, stopping you from fully escaping.

another scream left your lips as your other wing broke in half, the pain stabbing you yet again.

the wings, the only thing that ever gave you peace, were lifeless as the monster slammed you into the ground. the monster was smart enough to slam you back first into the cold ground, making you let out another scream as your clawed back and your broken wings harshly met the dirt.

your anguished screams echoed through the woods, reaching the ears of a running wednesday as she made her way down the forest. she had seen everything happen in her vision and was too panicked to tell others as she ran towards you and eugene.

but xavier was following behind her. he had lost sight of her ages ago, but your screams made his heart thump faster as he ran further into the woods.

eugene's cry for help made you try and sit up, a gut wrenching cry leaving your lips at the pain that shot harshly through your body. you couldn't get up— you were far too weak and losing far too much blood to fully raise your body.

"y/n?" xavier's yell made you try and sit up again, to no avail. your wings were limp on your back and too damaged to the point that you couldn't even fold them back into your back.

"xavier? xavier!" you yelled loudly, frantically looking around you. but all you saw were the tall trees and the darkness that surrounded you.

but xavier saw you before you saw him. you were on the ground, your wings bent horrifically around you as you tried to sit up again, a pained cry leaving your lips. you were able to get up, but the blood still seeped out of you like a leaking faucet.

"y/n, stop," xavier rushed towards you, trying to make you lay down, only for you to try and push him off with a bloodied hand. you didn't even ask why he was covered in what you saw was fake blood, the adrenaline making you too frantic as you shoved his hands away. "what happened?!"

"eugene. where's eugene?" you asked as xavier tried to make you stay seated. your eyes burned with tears as you looked around you for the kid, desperation in your tone as you shoved xavier again. "xavier, where's eugene?" your voice cracked as you put your hands on the forest floor and tried to put yourself up, only for xavier to stop you.

"y/n, you cannot get up. we need to get you help—"

"where's eugene?!" you snapped, tears shining as your eyes met xaviers. he swore that he never wanted to see you like that again; your voice breaking as you spoke, blood staining your face and nothing but desperation in your face.

"wednesday probably found him." xavier's eyes widened as you tried to stand up again. he put his hands on your shoulders. "can you just care about your health for one second?!"

"i can't," you cried out, shoving his hands off of your shoulders. yet again you tried to get up, but xavier put his hands on your shoulders and stopped you again. "i couldn't protect him," you cried, still trying to push xavier off of you. "stop stopping me xavier!"

"you did everything you could, y/n, please," xavier begged. he grabbed your head and held you to his chest as you sobbed. you tried to punch him away, your hits against his back and stomach still relatively strong. but you were too weak to fight anymore, your hands falling at your sides as you cried into his chest. tears dripped down xavier's eyes as he listened to your pain. he felt your arms slowly wrap around him, gripping his shirt in your hands.

"i couldn't protect him. he had the glow and i couldn't protect him," you sobbed, feeling xavier hold you tighter as you continued to cry. you felt his hand brush your hair down as you sobbed.

you sobbed for eugene, the kid you told yourself you would protect, now equally as mauled as you were. you sobbed for how weak you were against a monster; you should've done more. you sobbed for your wings, how they laid lifeless next to you as you cried like a child.

"i tried. i really tried," you whimpered.

in your mind, you should've tried harder. if you weren't so focused on making sure eugene was safe then you would've been able to save him.

"i know, y/n. i know." xavier swallowed thickly as his eyes drifted to your limp wings, lifeless on the forest ground. one of the bones was protruding out of your skin, blood dripping down the wound. your once pure white wings were stained crimson under the moonlight.

you turned your head to try and look at them, only for xavier to keep your head to his heaving chest. "don't." he said softly.

you tried to move them, but you couldn't feel anything but pain. "no, no, no," you tried to move them again, groaning in pain as you did, but they wouldn't move. "why can't they move? xavier, why can't they move—" you were frantic, and all xavier could do was hold you.

ACT V, ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— xavier and the reader are so the neighborhood and arctic monkeys coded it's crazy. thank you for reading, and the next part will be out asap bc i'm excited to write it

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