#its just a general air of Paranoia | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crxshed-skxlls · 10 months

Text

— ❝ Ethereal Sickness

Slenderman x M!Reader

Word count: 2K+

Plot: You are a private supernatural investigator, working under the whims for any haunting experiences your way. You soon get lost in the forest, and It wasn't long before you realize you are not the only one in this place..

NSFW tags: Dubcon, Prey/Predator themes, exhibistionism, Tentacles, Monster Fucker, Sadomasochism, blood play, power imbalance, degradation, rough sex

You had a sick feeling ever since you came here. Your eyes scan the forest interior with a small reluctance. Some people reported in your emails of a potenially supernatural experience, and you were intrigued. Your mind was always captivated by the macabre and mysterious. You had a weird fascination ever since the playful stories of Bloody Mary and Charlie Charlie. You take a deep breath, inhaling the thick air of the forest as you sigh. You take a couple more steps in the woodlands, hearing the faint crushing sound of leaves and twigs under your shoes. You carry a small camera, just in case there were any spirits to capture. You pause as you hear a twig snap behind you -- whipping around only to see.. Nothing but a small squirrel scurry up a tree. You sigh in somewhat relief. You're admittedly a little nervous, anticipating any strange encounter that may lurk around the corners.

Though, you assume your thoughts to be your subconscious toying with you. You sigh and turn back around, walking deeper in the murky terrain. Undoubtedly this forest was pretty, but a subtle hint of unease settled inside. The fogged, moist atmosphere made things a bit blurry for you to see. The dark, lush flora meshed with the paranoid thoughts of someone lurking around. You are soon snapped into reality again as you see a strange sight. Your eyes widen in intrigue as you notice a weird page in the distance, hanging a few muddled feet from a rotting tree. You start to move by yourself, curiously wandering to the strange picture. It depicted a strange drawing with symbols you couldn't recognize, seemingly created with dirtied charcoal. You delicately take the page from the tree, carefully examining it. However, you accidentally smudge some of the charcoal. It left a black residue. Weird. This picture seemed to be fresh.

You collect the page as evidence, looking around to see if you can find anymore near. It was only then you hear another subtle sound of leaves crunching – making you dart to the general direction. This time, there was nothing there. Your heart starts to drop as you feel a sense of dread and paranoia. You quickly start walking in a different direction, only to see another page faintly in the distance. You felt as if eyes lingered over you, but maybe you were just being paranoid. Sometimes chills are a good thing, it means your doing something right at least. You could practically feel the paranormal air thicken as you go on to the other page. This one seemed much older in quality, only a big symbol in the middle with an eerie note; You feel a knot nervously bubble in your stomach as you read the scribbled writing. The phrase stated,

HE IS ALWAYS WATCHING

You pondered curiously. Whom might "he" be? You quickly collect yourself as you soon see something in the corner of your eye– a startling figure. You turn your head, only to find nothing there. This was strange. Not once did you ever feel such unsure paranoia. Irrational thoughts caved into your consciousness as you take the second page with a lump in your throat. Despite your paranoia and irrational behavior, you chalk it up to your nerves. Something that something in the distance was amused by. Amused, and out of sight, lies an ancient entity. He went by many names, by many legends. However, he coined "Slenderman" more infamously. He had been watching for a bit now, observing your odd behavior with a predatory gaze. As if a tiger stalking down its prey in a well forested area. Slender pleasantly toys with you, practically ogling your irrational reactions.

He had seen many mortals before; humans carelessly roughhousing his domain. He growled quietly at the thought of those leeches.. However, you were intriguing. You captivated him with the delicate ways you would handle your surroundings, how quick it was for you to shudder and shiver with nervousness. As much as he was known for his careless nature towards humans, you had certainly caught the wrong eyes. Meanwhile, you were still wandering in what felt like a conflicting trance. Both your mind and body telling you that you must go; flee… However you were lost in the mysteries and captivated by the pages. There was a sick feeling in your stomach; nausea kicks in as you feel a presence linger in the air. You spin around – your heart skipping a beat as you see a tall figure. You quickly start to flee, running as fast as you can as your adrenaline causing you to beeline to the opposite direction. What a lovely look for you to an eyes of a prowling creature.

The air becomes more thick and cold as you dart through trees, hoping to get it off your trail. Whatever it was it was not human, and it definitely seemed unfriendly. Slender catches to your pace as he patiently watches you crumble physically. You aren't too athletic or anything, but your body told you to keep going. You had scattered the pages behind you somehow during the irrational running, but you didn't look back. You kept going until you hit a rock, stumbling down a harsh steep hill. As you tunbled, you can feel the scrapes and gashes unwantedly scrape your body – only to fall a couple inches from a tree. You let out a whimper as you catch your breath, sitting upright only to be met with the being in question. You didn't want to admit it, but you were weirdly enraptured by the way he gazed at you. You were scared – no, terrified.. Though something about the way he stood so grand in front of you made you flushed. You take a shaky breath as the figure grew near.

" What might we have here… "

You gasped, surprised at the low voice that rang in your ears. You look on curiously as his voice teased. Slender looks down in a confused but curious glance as you shiver and tremble on the ground. You watch as his black, slender tendrils slide out of his back. You gulp nervously as you try moving back, only for Slender to swiftly smacks you to the tree. You yelp painfully as he pins you to the tree, your eyes betraying your focus as you watch Slender leans in closely.

" Wh– What do you want fr- from me? "

You croak out as Slender's skeletal hands ghost around your abdomen. Even without eyes, Slender was observant to your fear. He drank the look of terror from your face, the bloodied gash along your cheek made his grip tighter on you. It wasn't long until you watch as Slender's facial skin moves. You gasp, horrified as you watch Slender's skin tear and crack. It showed Slender's mouth, sharp teeth and a long black tongue with ripped pale skin.

" I want you to be a good meal for me. "

" W- wait !! "

You shriek and squirm as he moves down to your neck, feeling his mouth open wide. A different tendril floods your mouth, unexpectedly choking you. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the ethereal being to take a good chomp of you… But he doesn't. Instead, you feel the slimy, wet sensations as his tongue laps at your neck. You gag on his tendril, letting out a small moan as the stinging feeling of your wounds is lapped up by his sickly black tongue. He pulls away for a moment, taking in the delicious iron taste in his mouth of your open wounds. He stalks your body in a way that feels possessive, territorial. You feel yourself trickle another moan on the soft tendril as the man lifted your shirt, cold air hitting you as he wanders. You were unsure of this, at least with the delirious and disoriented state you were in.

The tendril in your mouth soon pops out with a slick pop – allowing you to gasp. You dont dare to utter any words though, trembling as you watch Slender tenderly lick your abdomen. You let out a moan as he licks up, trailing to your chest. You try to squirm away, but he has you firm to the tree. He sighs abruptly, his warm breath causing you to whimper out. It was only then you gasped, feeling something slick paw at your crotch. You attempt to wiggle out again as your breath hitches, looking at Slender with worry –

" Wait – Wait please I don't know if I can – "

You beg and plead through breathy moans and shaky replies, Slender growling in a guttural tone. He creepily smiles as he watches tears prick your eyes, licking his lips. You couldn't help but feel yourself throb as you see your own blood plastered sickly on his "lips". He soon claws away your dirtied shirt with a swift rip, causing you to land your head back to the tree in a shiver. The mix of unpleasant cold and dirty pleasure had you reeling. For what it is though, you didn't expect such a beast to be almost gentle with you – and you have backtracked that statement as he rips your pants away. You shriek out with a gasp, your face flushing redder as you look away from Slender. The tendriled being laughs coldly, his tentacle palming at your throbbing erection.

" You really are a sick meal, are you? Such a mortal like yourself would keep struggling– but your different. "

He hisses with a predatory gaze. The degrading made you whimper, only before crying out as he bites your tender flesh on your shoulder. You yell in a weird mix of pain and pleasure, the sweet twinge of agony as he laps up more of your blood. You feel the man's tendril pull down your boxers, leaving you bare naked. Your cock springs out shamefully, precum laced at the tip. Slender giggles in almost amusement. His big hands trailing down your tendered waist. You lay your head in embarrassment, weakly kicking your legs in protest. Slender's tendril swirls around your dick, tracing the peculiar veins that popped out. You shamefully groan, letting your head fall back more as you marched. Slender hisses in delight.

" Wow, so shameful to moan for such a monster. What do you think others would think seeing you like this, hm? "

Slender taunted, grunting as he unzips his pants. What came next was something indescribable; almost unbelievable. Your eyes widen at Slender's huge penis. It wasn't like any other humans though– it was a thick, black tendril with a slick feel. As his other tendril leaves your cock, he let's his penis slide against yours. You both let out a moan, one more surprised than the other. He was several inches bigger than you, and you were average to say the least. You shiver out a moan as he bucked his hips into yours, the slimy texture of his dick lubricating yours. You moan again before letting out a breathy gasp as Slender's hands raise your legs. You were folded between the being and a tree, tears spilling out of your muddy face as you watch helplessly. Your eyes widen at such a suggestion, shaking your head.

" N- no way! That's not going to fit in me! "

You cry out, watching as he examines your cute little hole. It was already laced with some of your own precum, watching as you clench to nothing was both arousing and amusing to the man. He looks at the mess he made, aiming his slick dick to your hole. You begged more, pleaded even. He teased your ass with the tip of his cock, swirling around your entrance. You moan at the unusual feeling, panting slightly as your dick twitched between you two. Slender leans to your bloodied, bitten shoulder to lick the gashes he marked onto you. You hiss in pain, wincing at the twinges of pleasure it brought you. Your stomach knotted up as it pulled more heat, becoming almost unbearable. Slender noticed this, even as your cock twitched. You both knew what was coming as he laughed darkly.

" Already coming, are we? Such a shame. It hasn't even got to the fun parts yet.. "

Fun parts? You shiver from what he staged. You were already becoming undone, and he still had more plans? Your thoughts are soon interrupted by a harsh force and a painful twinge. Slender had finally slipped his dick into you, bottoming in one strong move. You leans your head forward, biting into the man's clothes shoulder with a scream. The mixed pain and pleasure had got you to spill out – coming onto your abdomen and chest as you heaved and moaned in the being's shoulder. He grunts at the twinge of pain, his dick slick as he moves inside of you. He grunts as he pulls halfway out before plunging back into you. You arch your back as you moaned out, feeling Slender set a ridiculous pace. His quiet but guttural moans rang in your ears as he rips inside of you. It was only then you had completely lost yourself when you felt him curl into your prostate. You whimper and moan out shamelessly as you put your hands on Slender's shoulders to stable yourself.

" Mm - More! God, more sir– "

Your meek voice sent Slender into a predatory growl, slamming into your prostate as he draws more of your noises out. You could only feel a flood of pain from the ache of the tree scraping your back, your bitten shoulder, and some other injurgies. However, pleasure flushed your body as you come for a second time. Your cum lands on his suit as he slams into your ass. You let out more "sirs" and "pleases" in the air.

" Awwh you – Haah – foolish being.. Such a slut you became, darling."

The petname and moans he let's out sends you overboard. You feel twinges of overstimulation kick in as you lay almost limp in the being's grasp. He lays his head to the tree holding you, letting out more moans as his hips sputter into you.

" Please – no more!-- haah– cant– "

" Yes you can. You will take what I give you– "

Slender interrupts your pleas as he grips the soft flesh of your thighs, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder as he spurs on one more time. You cry out with a yelp, feeling the twitch inside you before you felt him cover your insides with his sticky ropes. You both pant in silence, only hearing your breath as be pulls out of you. Slender moans slightly as he watches his seed spill out of your hole, the mixed of sweat and other bodily fluids clung to you as you pant. You feel exhausted as your body comes down from your high, blinking slowly as you look up at Slender. He looks down as he let's go of you, letting you gently fall to the bottom of the tree. He marvels at his creation, and you look up at him like he was an angel from hell. He was pretty terrifying, but he also looked so hot as he watches the mess he created.

You were drenched in fluids, and naked. The blood from your shoulder had trickled it's way down to your soft chest. Your nipples perked up from the neglected attention it had. You had mud and gashes that covered you a in spots. You had Slender's seed spill out of you as your cock softened. You were filthy, disgusting, and a mess. Slender gawks at you with a smirk, leaning down towards you. You look at him with half lidded eyes, shakily breathing as you lay limp against the tree. You shiver and tremble with the cold wind as he lays his eyes on you. It wasn't long after he took in such a sight he grabbed you, picking you up with his arms. You don't have any strength to protest, whimpering as he looks at you. Something was definitely different however.. His gaze was softer, and his hold on you was different. Instead of the hard, possessive grip he had, it was replaced with a gentle but firm squeeze.

" You're mine now. You will be mine for as long as you live. Do you understand me? "

You give a weak nod before your eyes start rolling in the back of your head. You pass out right then and there. Your consciousness leaving your body as you lay limp, blissfully ignorant to what you had just endured.

You then wake up in your house. You were clothed and covered in the warmth of a blanket. You would be lying if you thought it was all just a dream until you felt it hit. The ache of your body made you grunt as you turn. You noticed something on your nightstand however. It was your camera and a crinkled note. Just like the papers in the forest. You look to see it's one of the ones you had picked up; ALWAYS WATCHING lingering in your head with not fear – but a longing. You sit the page down as you flop back onto your bed, sighing as you plop your face in the soft pillows below. You then drift back off to unconsciousness, the last thing you see is a figure at the corner of your eye as you peacefully pass out.

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hikarry · 1 month

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Please please please write Crowley saving Aziraphale from the library of Alexandria like you mentioned in the Caesar post! Please!

Sometimes following Hell's orders wasn't so bad.

Win Julius Ceaser to our side.

Easy! The bloke was practically with a foot in Hell anyway so Crowley just had to nudge from time to time and pretend like the man's rotten personality was all his doing.

Crowley liked life in court. There was always something to drink, and he could mostly lazy around not doing much without being disturbed.

And, of course, he could always go down and mingle with the common folk - Read Aziraphale - whenever he pleased. Cause of course the angel would be where a gigantic library was. It was the type of thing that would be a perfect trap for Aziraphale anytime.

"You are not seeing the grand picture, dear boy. This is most of humanities knowledge! All in the same place! For eternity. Being shared through generations of brilliant minds."

"Bit of a bad idea, if you ask me." Aziraphale stopped stocking some scroll and looked up at him, upset expression on his face. "No, listen, it makes sense: imagine you have some...precious stones you really don't want to lose. If you are stupid you will hide them all in the same place, but if you actually think about it, it would be smarter to hide some of them in different places. That way if some of them were stolen, you still had the rest."

"No one is going to steal the Library of Alexandria, Crowley."

"That was not my point. Having all this knowledge in the same place like a sitting duck is my point."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and went back to stocking the scrolls.

"Did you just come here to complain?"

"No." Crowley crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be as nonchalant as possible. "Do you want to have dinner? Same place?"

The angel thought for a couple of moments and, for a second, it almost appeared like he was going to decline, when he smiled up at him.

"Of course. I'll meet you when the sun sets."

The Civil War did throw a rock on his plans. Not because the restaurant was closed or because his time was filled, but because Aziraphale refused to leave the library no matter what. No one was permitted in without a good reason and, apparently, being Crowley wasn't a good reason.

Suddenly life at court became boring.

War this. Soldiers that. Can't humans just behave for a century or so? There's always something happening. And almost never something good.

He was bored and he felt lonely. Caesar was doing just fine at crawling his way into the pits of Hell without his help so maybe it was time to end this assignment...and be sent somewhere else. Which he could. And he should. But Aziraphale was right here. Last time they had been together was in Rome. He wouldn't confess it to anyone, but the last thing he wanted was to leave the angel behind. Not while he still had, technically, an excuse to stay.

Being a demon has some perks. You can see slightly better in the dark. You can hear noises apparently Humans cant. Your sense of smell was excellent. So quite faint smell of smoke didn't surprise him. They were amidst a civil war. There was always something or someone on fire.

But the Demon Crowley had something else no other demon had. Creativity. Creativity that could quickly borderline paranoia if he allowed his thoughts to run wild. Which he learned a long time ago to never do. So, even if a bad feeling crawled up his spine every time the smoke crossed his nose, he ignored it.

As the days passed, Crowley's unease grew despite his efforts to dismiss it. The scent of smoke lingered in the air like a persistent whisper, taunting his senses with its ominous presence. His usual nonchalant demeanor began to crack under the weight of uncertainty, a nagging feeling gnawing at the back of his mind.

He found himself stealing glances towards the library, where Aziraphale remained cloistered amidst the scrolls and tomes, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil outside.

One evening, as dusk descended upon the city, Crowley's fears materialized into a stark reality. The distant echoes of chaos grew louder, punctuated by the unmistakable crackle of flames devouring everything in their path. Men ran throught the streets with buckets in hand, all towards the same direction. Amidst the yells and whispers, Crowley caught the last thing he wanted to hear. Panic seized his heart as he tossed the goblet of wine somewhere, racing throught the streets towards the library, pushing random people from his path maybe a tad more stronger than he should.

It wasn't necessary to reach the library, many meters behind he could already feel the heat. The once majestic edifice now stood engulfed in flames, the inferno raging uncontrollably as tendrils of smoke billowed into the night sky. For a moment, Crowley was frozen in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the devastation unfolding before him. Some men with idiotic little buckets tried to kill the flames, but it was less than useful. A group of women stood to the side, kneeling around a group of six dirty and injured men. Some were being cleaned with wet cloths and others were already being fixed up the best the women could in such short notice.

"Mr. Crowley!" His brain was a bit too offline for him to notice one of the women getting up from the group and walking in fast pace towards him. His eyes met hers, tears still spilling down her perfectly rosy cheeks. "What are you doing here?" She held him by the arms, squeezing them. He knew the woman, even though that information took a while to connect. Maris was one of the female students Aziraphale insisted in maintaining and probably the only one Crowley didn't find annoying.

He held her by the forearms, feeling how her petite body was trembling of both exhaustion and fear.

"Aziraphale." He squeezed her arms slightly, forcing her to focus and look up at him. "Where is he?"

Maris' breath got stuck in her throat as her eyes looked over Crowley's shoulders to the inferno of a library, still being consumend like a raging forest. He let go of her arms and turned around, already walking towards it.

"Mr. Crowley! Don't! It's not worth it anymore! It has been too long!"

He had never heard such nonsense from such a little soul.

Crowley ignored Maris' pleas, his determination overriding any sense of self-preservation. With each step he took towards the blazing inferno, the heat intensified, licking at his skin with searing intensity. But he pressed on, driven by a singular purpose: find Aziraphale.

As he drew closer to the library, the flames roared like a beast unleashed, devouring everything in its path with insatiable hunger. It wasn't Hell Fire, thankfully. But even normal fire could do a considered amount of damage to an angelic corporation. The air was thick with smoke, stinging Crowley's eyes and choking his lungs with every breath, so he decided to stop breathing.

Through the billowing smoke and flickering flames, Crowley caught a glimpse of a figure laying amidst the wreckage. It could only be Aziraphale. Carefully, Crowley turned him around just to find 5 or 6 big scrolls Aziraphale appeared to be holding onto against his chest with the might of God herself.

"Aziraphale?"

Crowley's heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside him, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently shake the angel's shoulders. He opened his wings, trying to keep the heat away from both of them. "Angel, wake up," he urged, his voice strained with concern.

Slowly, Aziraphale's eyes fluttered open, clouded with confusion and pain. He blinked up at Crowley, his expression dazed as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

"Crowley...?" Aziraphale's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"We need to get you out of here," Crowley replied urgently, taking a quick look around, before looking down at the pale angel below him, his mind racing. "Can you stand?"

Aziraphale attempted to rise, but a sharp intake of breath betrayed the pain that coursed through his body. Crowley cursed under his breath, realizing that Aziraphale corporation's injuries were more severe than he had initially thought.

"We can't stay here," Crowley insisted, his voice firm despite the panic that threatened to consume him. "C'mon."

With great care, Crowley wrapped Aziraphale's arm around his shoulder, taking on the majority of his weight as they stumbled through the smoldering wreckage of the library. The flames danced around them, their heat searing against Crowley's skin as they fought their way towards safety.

Together, they stumbled through the library, each step a test of their endurance as the heat pressed in on all sides. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's weight bearing down on him, the strain of their escape taking its toll on both of them.

With each passing moment, the flames seemed to grow closer, their tendrils reaching out hungrily to consume everything in their path.

Finally, they emerged from the burning wreckage, gasping for breath as they collapsed onto the ground outside. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the suffocating heat of the fire, but their ordeal was far from over.

Aziraphale was limp once again and keeping conscious was a game of roulette. They couldn't just stay there on the ground hoping Aziraphale would come back to himself. There was only one place they could go where Crowley could actually look after him.

Carefully holding the angel on his arms, he looked quickly around before opening his wings. It was night and most people were either locked at home or too worried with the fire, so he had a chance to get home without being undetected if he was careful with his trajectory.

When he was mere meters away from the house, he snapped his fingers and opened the door, trying to lose as little time as he could. Inside it was supposed to be dark, if it wans't the reflection of the flames that invaded the whole city.

Crowley tucked his wings away before stepping through the threshold, quickly walking to near the window where the bed was. Aziraphale was running a bad fever, and just now he noticed the burns on his face and down his arms. He wasn't an angel. He couldn't just snap his fingers and fix Aziraphale, so the human way it had to be.

Crowley gently laid Aziraphale down on the bed, taking care not to aggravate his injuries any further. He fetched a damp cloth and began to gently clean the burns on Aziraphale's face and arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked to ease the angel's pain.

Despite his best efforts, Crowley couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him. If only he had acted sooner, if only he had listened to the warning signs instead of dismissing them, perhaps they wouldn't be in this situation now.

As he worked, Aziraphale kept falling in and out of consciousness. When Crowley leaned over him, trying to take off the cloth hiding his bleeding chest, Aziraphale's eyes opened, half-lided, but looking up at him.

"Sleep, angel."

Aziraphale didn't answer. Instead, just closed his eyes and a stray tear ran from the left one, which Crowley was quick to clean with the back of his finger.

He cleaned the angel's chest. The only thing he could think about to help with the burns was ointment, but that would burn like true Hell Fire and Aziraphale appeared to be in pain enough...but, maybe, he should take the chance the angel was unconscious and just do it?

Screw it!

Crowley miracled the ointment and sat on the side of the bed. As soon as his fingers toutched one of the burns on Aziraphale's chest, the angel's hand snapped up, grabbing Crowley's hand by the wrist and pulling it away from him.

Crowley froze, his heart skipping a beat as Aziraphale's hand closed around his wrist with surprising strength. He met the angel's gaze, seeing the pain etched into his features despite the half-lidded eyes.

"Aziraphale, it's me," Crowley said softly, trying to reassure him. "I'm just trying to help."

But Aziraphale's grip only tightened, his expression clouded with confusion and fear. Crowley could see the struggle within him, the battle between his instinctual reaction and his trust in Crowley warring behind his eyes.

"Please, let me help you," Crowley pleaded. He could feel the burn of Aziraphale's skin beneath his fingertips, the heat radiating from the wounds.

For a moment, Aziraphale remained tense, his grip unyielding. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, his hand began to loosen, his fingers trembling slightly as they released their hold on Crowley's wrist.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it. Carefully, he resumed his ministrations, applying the ointment to Aziraphale's burns with a gentleness born of both necessity and affection.

When he was finally finished, he got up to wash his hands and grab another cloth, wetting it before walking back towards the bed, depositing it on Aziraphal'e forehead.

The angel's breathing was still ragged, but at least he wasn't bleeding on the sheets anymore and his expression seemed more serene.

Crowley sat by Aziraphale's side, watching over him as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

As the hours passed, Crowley remained vigilant by Aziraphale's side, his senses attuned to any change in the angel's condition. The fever seemed to ebb and flow, leaving Aziraphale restless and agitated one moment, and then peaceful the next.

It was during one of these fleeting moments of calm that Crowley found himself studying Aziraphale's face, the soft curve of his lips, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. And in that moment, Crowley realized something he had been reluctant to admit to himself before.

He cared for Aziraphale. More than he cared to admit. More than it was smart.

The demon put a new cloth on the angel's forehead and brushed his curly blond hair back with his fingers, leaning over him much without noticing. Aziraphale was completely out of it so...maybe? Crowley took a deep breath and, before he could find more than one argument to how idiotic he was about to act, he laid his head carefuly on Aziraphale's chest while his left hand stayed on the curls. He just needed a second. To think. To process the nightmarish night they had just been through. If he had arrived any later Aziraphale would have suffocated or burned out of his corporation. All because of some ridiculous scrolls.

"Stupid." He murmured, sliding his face up Aziraphale's chest and hiding it on the curve of the angel's neck, much without thinking. Aziraphale was unconscious, he would never know anyway.

With his eyes closed and the constant breathing of the angel against his ear, Crowley allowed himself to finally relax, closing his eyes. That didn't last long though, because all his body tensed up when he felt a hand on his short curls. He didn't move. Didn't breath. His mind rushing to try and find an excuse. But no questions ever came. Instead, Aziraphale let his face lean more against Crowley's, visibly still unconscious.

Crowley's heart raced as Aziraphale's hand gently caressed his curls, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. Despite the tension that coiled within him, Crowley found himself leaning into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he allowed himself to bask in the moment of intimacy.

For a fleeting moment, Crowley allowed himself to entertain the possibility that Aziraphale was awake and aware of his actions. That he was reaching out to Crowley in his own way, seeking comfort and solace amidst the chaos that had engulfed them. But deep down, Crowley knew that it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

As the night stretched on, Crowley remained by Aziraphale's side, his head resting against the angel's chest as they both drifted into an uneasy sleep. In the quiet of the room, the flickering flames outside casting dancing shadows across the walls, Crowley found a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in centuries.

There ya go! Sorry it took me a tad longer than it should have. I had a lot of inspiration, but didn't know which path to choose. Alas, didn't want to make it too long either. Hope it satisfies you!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley #asks #anon #good omens imagine

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writingintheshadowsforever · 1 year

Text

Imagine Namor and Queen Ramonda forgiving each other on your behalf

The crashing waves, the whistling of a passing breeze, the chirping crickets, and the rustling of trees were the only sounds to fill the air. For the longest as Namor and Queen Ramonda simply stared each other down. Waiting for the other to cave and look away. Nakia had to be the one to break the silence.

"Neither of you came here tonight to have a staring contest. You're here to make peace with each other, so this alliance starts feeling more real on both sides. And not the result of a forced marriage" she reminded them. Her voice holding a tone of authority.

"I did not force your princess to marry me." Namor protested turning his attention to Nakia with a frown.

"Well its not like I left her with many other choices now did you?" Queen Ramonda shot back with a glare.

Just like that his attention was back on her, and he took a menacing step forward.

Nakia placed herself between both of them. "Careful Namor your wife will not be happy if any harm befalls either of us."

Namor looked away feeling a little ashamed at letting his anger get the best of him so easily. He was supposed to making peace, and here he was arguing with the Queen like a child. You would be disappointed in him if you were present.

"Where is my daughter right now?" Queen Ramonda asked him over Nakia's shoulder. She refused to move even if it did seem like he was no longer a threat.

Namor looked up to catch her eyes with his own, and saw something he wasn't use to with other people. Vulnerability.

You were her daughter and for the past three days she had been unable to contact or see you. Not to mention you were located in another nation not totally inaccessible to her, but not somewhere she could reach in a moment’s notice. Of course she was worried for your well-being.

"She is located in the underwater caves for now, and was sleeping when I left. Your daughter is safe and perfectly fine Queen" Namor reassured her. He tried to sound as if he really didn't care but the undertone was there.

"The Talokanil woman that I killed when I infuriated your home. I'm truly for her death" Nakia spoke up. She decided that someone had to apologize first. Why not her especially when it was her actions that led to the invasion on Wakanda.

Namor tilted his head to the side as he studied her trying to see if she was sincere. Nakia held his gaze.

Ten long seconds went by before he finally let out a sigh. "I sent my soldiers to ambush the Princess and the General in America on purpose. You just responded to my actions, and then I acted hastily nearly destroying the alliance I wanted to build so badly. I'm sorry for that." His gaze flickered back to the Queen whose eyes shone with disbelief. "I'm sorry for the lives your country lost during my attack, and I'm sorry for nearly taking yours."

"Why should I believe you?" The Queen asked.

"Queen mother" Nakia hissed.

"What this could be some ploy to earn our trust" she exclaimed in anger. It was obvious she wasn't ready to forgive the King of Talokan yet.

Namor nodded in understanding. "I told both of your daughters I have no love for the surface world, and it is true. Even now as I stand before you trying to fix my relationship with you so our kingdoms can be united in peace. My hatred for mankind has always stemmed from their hatred of people like me. The surface love has never shown me or my people any love."

"What about the ones on the island?" Nakia insisted.

"They worship me as a God that is different. I'm civil to them but only because most of them haven't truly conformed to the way of the world. I brought all of my wrath down on Wakanda out of fear and paranoia. Humans have nearly discovered our existence in the past so many times. We had to relocate to stay safe for the past couple of decades. Talokan has remained safe where it is now, but all that changed when your son revealed your resources to the entire world. None of you had any intention on sharing with the other nations, but knew they would come looking-"

"We weren't aware of your exis-" The Queen tried to remind him, but he cut her off with a roar.

"It doesn't matter you put my people and home in jeopardy. I was blinded and was willing to do anything to protect my people. I didn't think it was possible for a human to be accepted in Talokan, but your daughter has proved me wrong. That is why I'm here now apologizing because I realize maybe if I had approached the situation differently all of this could’ve been avoided." Namor brought his voice back down to quieter level as he reached the end.

Ramonda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. While there was a part of her that wanted to hold onto the grudge. She knew it was time to let it go, if Namor could find it in him to admit his mistakes and apologize. So could she.

"I accept you apology Namor, and I am truly sorry for how my country’s action have affected your own nations." She said stepping around Nakia to face him directly.

Namor gave her a nod.

A silent agreement passed through both of them as they looked at each other. This was a new beginning for Wakanda and Talokan.

Namor turned around to make his way back into the ocean. He did what he set out to do, there was no reason for him to stick around any longer. But he paused right as his body entered the water too look back at both of them. They were still standing in the same spot watching him leave. "I will take care of your daughter Queen Ramonda her well-being is not something you need to concern yourself with. I promise if it makes you feel any better the marriage is on hold till we learn to truly love each other."

Ramonda let out a sigh unable to hold back the small smile taking form on her face. As relief flooded through her body she didn't know why, but his words brought her some much needed comfort. Knowing you weren't whisked away into some underwater marriage ceremony the day you left made her feel better. "Namor wait take this with you." She called out to him pulling something from her sleeves.

It was a gold chain with a large purplish black ring on it. He tilted his head to the side as he walked back out of the ocean to go get it. "What is it?"

"Its T'Challa's ring her brother I want her to have it promise me she gets it" Queen Ramonda told him.

He observed the ring closely like it was a secret weapon.

"Its just a ring Namor it belonged to their own father. Its just something to make her feel more connected to Wakanda this isn't some trap" Nakia reassured him exasperated with his hesitation.

He glanced in her direction with a raised eyebrow, but still reached out to gently take the chain from the Queen. "I will give it to her." With those words he turned back around and descended back into the ocean. There were no goodbyes exchanged between the two, but progress had been made.

Next Morning

You were stretched out in the hammock on your stomach sleeping peacefully. Your face pressed into a pillow that Namor had put under your head when he got back. Your body was still cocooned in his robe despite the blanket at the bottom. It was still folded neatly, and was nestled under your feet. He wondered if he was going to get the robe back from you.

He was leaned back into a sofa positioned right across from the hammock. Namor had it built specifically for you wanting to make this cave as close to your home as it could get. The platform for the sofa was made out rock material from the ocean itself. Which they were able to mold perfectly as well as the more than comfortable soft cushioning.

Namor had been watching you sleep for about an hour so far. Once he returned from his meeting with the queen. He retired for the night to his own sleeping chambers in the cave. Sleep didn't come easily too him considering it wasn't something he did very often. Unlike his people and you his body last way longer without a sufficient amount of rest. So he only rested whenever the need arose, and although he felt drained a little mentally. Last night physically he was fine and felt as if he could go another two days or so. But he slept anyway with nothing else to worry about.

You started to shift around letting out a soft groan. Your eyes squeezed themselves tightly as you frowned. Consciousness had come to way too early for your liking, and the material wrapped around your body coupled with the cloud you were sleeping in. Made you want to go back under, but for some reason you couldn't go back. You opened your eyes pulling the robe up to cover your face slightly to block out any light. And that was when it hit you no need to try and dim the morning sunlight. Even the glow worms plastered all over the cave ceiling lit up the cave. The light wasn't overwhelming for your fresh morning eyes.

"Maybe sticking with this hammock isn't such a bad idea" You murmured sitting up.

"I'm happy you found your sleeping arrangements accommodating" Namor spoke up.

You let out a small yelp jumping a bit with your head whipping in the direction of his voice. He was sitting on a sofa leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. His hands were clasped together as he regarded with a proud look on his face.

"Were you watching me sleep?" You asked.

"Only for a while in yakunaj" He replied softly.

You raised an eyebrow trying to figure what he had just called you. It probably wasn't anything bad, but it was a bit annoying not being to understand his language sometimes. "Are you ever going to tell me what that means?" He had used that term more than once.

"No its fun trying to see you figure it out" Namor said with a teasing smile.

You threw your head with a chuckle not use to this side of him. It was the first time Namor had joked with you. Then something sitting on the small table between the hammock and sofa caught your attention. You threw your legs up and over standing up in one fluid motion, and walked over to the table. Tears formed in your eyes as you let out a little gasp in shock. It was T'Challa's ring resting on a gold chain. The one that passed down in your family for generations. You had decided that after his death the ring would go to Shuri, so how was it here now. Your gaze moved from the ring to Namor who's face had soften even more now.

"Your mother asked that I give that to you" He told you.

"My mother but how?" You asked in confusion.

"You asked me to make peace so I made peace my Queen" Namor answered getting to his feet.

Your eyes widened in surprised as you were taken back that he had actually done it. Honestly you didn't think he would nor did you think your mother would be willing to forgive him so soon. You picked the chain up to place it around your neck, and overcome with emotion. You threw yourself at Namor wrapping your arms around his neck placing your chin on his shoulder.

Namor didn't respond right away caught off guard with the physical show of affection from you. It wasn't something he was use to so for at first he just stood there frozen. Until finally he constricted his own arms around your waist pulling your body closer to his own.

"Thank you Namor" You whispered into his ear.

"You're welcome" He replied back.

You pulled your face back to look him in the eyes. "Should we go check on the city?"

Namor gave you a small nod knowing right then you had his heart. Nothing in the world could stop him from falling in love with you right now. He might have went about getting your hand in marriage the wrong way, but from here on out Namor made a promise that. He was going to do everything else right.

Tag List: @omgsuperstarg @local-bxbby @nebulastarr @historygeekqueen @realm-of-azrael @lia-losing-it @queenotaku23 @creamecafe @dngnmtr-blog @lullabaesstuff @polireader @alinefrank @pearlsyeaaa @astronautelilanded @riri53 @undermoonlightwalk @1andonlytashae @riverjane-d @zeeader @farleyis @ziayamikaelson @leahnicole1219 @redcitisiren @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @looneylikesbooks @thighella @http-isabela @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @motivation-idontknowher

#mcu imagine #marvel imagine #black panther imagine #namor x reader #namor imagine #queen ramonda x reader #nakia

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vixendoesstuff · 3 months

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ARIGHT, SO-

Continuing on where I left of, the gang sets of on their sentient hot air balloon to the outside world, to meet the other Troll tribes and, in Poppy's words, to "unite them in Barb's grand World Tour plan to make one big party again". And also to possibly find Cooper and Branch's respective tribes.

Generally speaking, the plot of this part of the saga doesn't change much beyond character interaction and mini events diverging from canon. Branch being a Techno Troll doesn't change a whole lot in the grand scheme of things, so this is what you get.

Anyway, onto the story!

The gang (Poppy, Branch and Cooper) decided that their first destination is Symphonyville, in Classical Troll territory. They decided on that since its the closest place to Pop territory relatively speaking and that, after some begging from Poppy and Cooper's part, Branch relented and told them of his hypothesis of his possible tribe relation to one of the 6 tribes mentioned in the scrapbook; that being the Techno Trolls, to the far east of Classical Troll territory.

Obviously Poppy is ecstatic of this news and can't wait for Branch to meet his possible tribe members. Then she asked Cooper if he knows what his possible Troll kin looked like, since by now it's up in the air that Cooper is not a Pop Troll and is in fact one of the 6 Troll tribes mentioned there. Cooper told them of his own hypothesis after admitting he snooped around to the scrapbook when no one as looking, to Branch's chagrin. But he is somewhat happy nonetheless, since the two are sort of on the same boat, with the whole "apparently we're not the only ones that look the way we are", sort of thing.

All the happy chatter is cut short when they arrive at Symphonyville to fine the place ransacked to the ground up, scorched mountains and ruined buildings as far as the eyes can see. After hearing the explanation of what happened from a little whistle critter (I'm assuming Pennywhistle's a critter) the trio were devastated and shocked. Barb doesn't wanna unite them; she wants to destroy them.

The three of them are undoubtedly disturbed and horrified by the news. Poppy and Cooper was under the impression that Barb just wanted all the tribes to unite so they could have one big party again, just like they used to do before their separation. But to see the destruction caused by Queen Barb, who had declared her World Tour not out of good intent but for evil; it scared them, to say the least.

Branch was silently panicking. The information that he's not the only one out there was shocking at first, and then terrifying. But later on it turned into intrigue. He was always curious what was out there beyond the borders of the village. He never dared go out there because of his paranoia of the Bergens at the time. But now he really has no real reason to keep staying inside the village borders and explore what the world has to offer. Try as he might, he was excited to meet his own kind out there.

But now with Queen Barb's world domination plan by destroying and stealing everyone's music made him think that he shouldn't have come on this mission at all.

He dismissed his plans on meeting his kin; the safety of the people he had come to love and cherish, the people that he had grown up with for all his life, no matter the relation, comes first before his potential kind, as cruel as it sounds.

He said so to the others, saying that Barb's plan will endanger everyone in the village, and their string in turn. Only for Poppy to reveal that she has the string on her, to Branch's disbelief. After some arguing they decided to warn the other tribes of this news, to avoid any further confrontation from the Rock Queen and possibly find a way to stop her.

Lonesome Flats of the Country Troll's territory is their next stop, since it's right beside Symphonyville. Right away Branch is uncomfortable in this place, the heat not doing his skin any good. Good thing Cooper offered his cloak, or else Branch might've melted under the sun lol.

They soon encountered the Country Troll's home, where they witness the way these Trolls sing and dance. Poppy and, to an extent Cooper, found their way of doing things kinda depressing, Branch says that it fits them and he likes it. Poppy then decided to sing them a medley to teach them that music is supposed to make them feel happy and dresses them up in that extravagant pop outfits they wore in the movie (I might draw them in the future, who knows).

Before they (ie Poppy and Cooper, Branch decided not to participate due to obvious reasons) could go halfway through the song, Branch stops them after seeing how disturbed and annoyed the Trolls here are. He then reprimanded them, saying that maybe they don't want a song medley from a genre they're unfamiliar with forced down their throats; maybe they like their sad and depressing songs.

Delta Dawn soon cuts in their convo and agrees with Branch's statements, before demanding why three weird looking Trolls are in her town snooping around and singing cheerful songs (that makes her want to puke lol). They quickly explain Barb's World Tour and her plans to steal all the strings so that only Rock would survive. Obviously this unnerves Delta and the rest of the Country Trolls, so the trio and them gathered around to discuss possible plans to stop them.

Poppy, Cooper and Branch don't stay long 'cause they still need to warn the other remaining tribe of this news, and Branch is suffering under the heat. Delta thanks them for their forewarning and sent them off with some extra supplies for them to reach the Funk Trolls on the west side (which excites Cooper since he's about to meet his own tribe for the first time). Before they got far, a Country Troll catches up to them, claiming that he's their delegate to get to the Funk Trolls safely, introducing himself as Hickory.

Since they don't get chased out of town like in the movie, the journey to Vibe City here is relatively peaceful. Poppy and Cooper gleefully initiates conversation with Hickory, with Branch sitting by the sidelines listening in. Branch is not as suspicious to Hickory as he is in the movie, as he has no real reason to be suspicious about since they parted with the Country Trolls on good terms. But he does sort of have a feeling that Hickory is not really telling the truth, because he doubts Delta Dawn would want one of her citizens to go out of her sight with the news of Barb's invasion coming along. So while he's civil with him, Branch keeps his distance.

Same thing happened in the movie with little conflict between the group, Chaz hypnotizing the crewmates except for Hickory (which kinda rings alarm bells in Branch's mind since during his interaction with the Country Trolls, they have little knowledge on the outside world, like the Pop Trolls do). He secretly shares his observation to Poppy, who reprimaded him for not trusting their friend. He rebutes back by saying that it's not that he doesn't trust him, but the possibility of him hiding something from them bases on the clues given is too much to ignore, which again, Poppy admonish.

Before they could go any further, suddenly a giant UFO was seen on the horizon coming their way, and before they know it, they all got bubble'd. Once they got inside the ship, they were amazed by the sights of futuristic looking equipments, dazzling lights, and most importantly, the Trolls. Cooper was over the moon when he realized where he is, as is Poppy and Branch to a lesser degree. They soon landed on a platform, where they're greeted by the person who beamed them up to Vibe City.

Prince Darnell, twin brother of lost "prince" Cooper.

Haha, cliffhanger! Suffer before my hands! But seriously, I just needed an excuse to split this into three parts, and this one's already long enough.

A lot of changes in this one. First, they don't get chased off of Lonesome Flats by Delta Dawn unlike in the movie. It's mostly 'cause of Branch and Cooper coming along, honestly. Branch, while being from another tribe but grown up with the Pop Trolls, can sorta understand the hesitance and wariness the Country Trolls have with Pop music. Imagined your hobby is cooking and suddenly this person comes up and forces you to do soccer 'cause they think it'll be "fun" for you more than cooking. It's kinda like that, and Branch can sorta see that point of view, even though he doesn't know any other music than Pop at this point.

Cooper will probably realize his mistake as soon as Branch told him as such (Poppy took a little longer to understand).

And since they parted ways with the Country Trolls on more or less good terms, Branch really has no concrete reason to fully distrust Hickory coming along. He finds it strange that he's coming along at all, as he thinks Delta Dawn as a person to want to keep all of her people under her watch during an invasion, no matter the reason. Taking that into account, Branch still won't give his full trust to Hickory, due to the reasoning above and that he's a wary person by nature. Who knows, maybe his suspicions of Hickory hiding something is right? (Oh, you're in for a surprise, Branch lol).

But anyway, sorry once again for the word vomit, I just like to ramble. Until next time!

#branch trolls #trolls #techno!branch au #trolls world tour #trolls poppy #trolls cooper #trolls delta dawn #trolls hickory #trolls prince d #also hickory can totally see the romantice tension between branch and poppy #and while hes weirded our by a romance between a pop troll and a techno troll #he wont make fun of them for it #he got class #in fact hes more awed by the sight of three different troll tribes being in one group #even if two are pop raised #he can tell this friendship between thw three will change history

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aloneinthehellfire · 6 months

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Chapter Ten: Part Two: An Ode To The Complicated

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death/cancer, bit of angst... okay, a lot of angst.

[A/N: So this one took me a while, as you can probably tell by the word count oops. I promise the next chapter will actually progress the story but for now, it felt fitting to develop the characters... wink, wink. enjoy]

Part Two: An Ode To The Complicated

Lights flicker out the corner of your eye, only catching your attention. The others were still deep in their exchange of scary stories, not noticing the flickering bulb locked behind a door just further down.

And then you watch as it dims completely, almost in a snap. You shouldn’t think anything of it. The world was literally ending, electricity was easily one of the first resources to go. Except… don’t these places usually run on a generator?

The light in the next room starts flickering. And when that bursts, it moves to the next, and you feel your hairs stand on end. You can see the bulb lose its spark, your breath foggy against the glass.

Since when were you this close to the door?

“Never be distracted.”

You spin around. There was nobody whispering in your ear. You were just hearing things again.

“Don’t look away.”

The voice echoes further down the hall. Your mind feels clouded, a high pitched ringing in your ear making the overhead lights unbearable. They were flickering madly, and you take a step back toward your friends.

“Run.”

Everything is bright once again, like the bulbs had never been acting up. You exhale a breath and walk back to where the others stood. Paranoia was setting in unusually often today.

It took you all of five steps to notice something was wrong. Maybe it was the silence in the room. Maybe it was the lack of movement. Whichever, you felt uneasy to see them with their backs to you, not speaking, barely breathing.

“Guys?” You frown, expecting someone to laugh. But you got no response.

You rush towards Steve, finding his face. It looked like he was mid sentence, mouth slightly open.

“Steve.” You wave a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

You tried the others, calling out, snapping your fingers.

Still nothing.

It’s like they’re stuck in time. Or you are.

This isn’t happening, you repeat over and over in your head, pacing the hallway. You were dreaming. Hallucinating. Hell, you could have been drugged for all you know. Judging by the dryness of your mouth, the rumble in your stomach, that didn’t seem to be the case. You hadn’t eaten in a while. Maybe it was hallucinations from starving yourself?

“Never be distracted.”

“Don’t look away.”

“Run.”

Letting out a cry of frustration, you turn around again to fuel your curious mind, expecting the same bare space as it always was.

Except a breath catches in the back of your throat, so quick you almost choked.

Dust.

It looked the same as that creature you had seen in the sky. The one that left you paralysed, fed you a nightmare that you couldn’t get out of your head any time you closed your eyes. Here it was, fluttering about in front of you, completely void of shape.

This is a dream, you tell yourself, tightening your grip on the shotgun, It’s just a dream.

The black dust began to trail backwards, slipping between the cracks of the double doors. You could see its shadow behind the small window of glass. It was waiting for you. Expecting you to follow.

It’s a bad idea. But you feel like this is your only escape from the time-stop around you.

You’re led back through the hallways, your footsteps rushed and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. At least, you hoped it was polish.

It’s leading you past the security room, over the broken glass of the front door, stepping out of the lab and into a blinking state of awe.

The sun beams brightly down, the world suddenly silent. Nothing was happening. It was barely moving. Like the earth had stilled, frozen in time.

Some kind of blackbird had been flying low. Now it was just suspended in air, mid flight, making you gulp.

Of all the crazy things to happen to you lately, this one takes the cake. You couldn’t keep staring. Never be distracted.

Something flutters in the corner of your eye. The dust. It was still leading you, towards the edge of the building… where that grinning creature lay in a mess of its own brain matter.

Trying not to gag, you keep a distance, wondering what this dust was trying to tell you. Did you have any other choice, or would you have to follow it for as long as it took you? How far would you go?

It doesn’t go any further than the building. You frown. You don’t know what that means.

It takes a moment for you to realise it was hovering over the monster, settling into an airborne shape that resembled its silhouette.

Then it lowered, covering the thing completely.

The hairs on your arm start to raise, and you take slow steps back. But you couldn’t look away. Don’t look away.

It was a blur of movement, settling around the body.

And then it was stitching it back together.

You watched in horror as melted into the dead skin, the mutilated face being woven back together like nothing had ever happened.

You should have ran. You should have done anything but watch.

Terror flooded your body when the dust finally faded and its eyes snapped open, completely black. It practically jumped to its feet, rolling those scarred shoulders of it, flexing those claws in and out of a fist. Then it stills completely.

The head snaps towards you, baring its grinning teeth.

You fumble with the shotgun, checking it was loaded. Your heart was racing so much that all you could hear was the repetitive thumping against your eardrum.

As your hands shook, the thing just stands and watches, smiling and smiling and smiling.

Wind blew against your face, winding through your hair. Was it windy before?

You were too terrified to take a glance around you, but slowly you start to hear the distant chirps of small wildlife, the faint hum of the building behind you. You were no longer frozen in time.

Just as you cock the gun, the blackbird finally flaps its wings, carried by the wind…

… and snatched out of the air with a malicious grip, snapping each and every bone, ricocheting through your body.

You almost cried when it bit into the bird, the sounds enough to make you nauseous. It was still staring as it chewed. Still smiling. Even as the blood dribbled down its chin.

Holding your breath, you take aim at its head. It only stared, dropping the dead bird.

You pull the trigger, awaiting its fall into the grass, awaiting the nightmare to end. But it didn’t move. It barely flinched.

The shells had pierced skin, aimed at the neck. It acted as if nothing happened, and you couldn’t control your breathing. Scarcely five minutes ago, Steve had blasted its head into a million smithereens. It should have been impossible to get back up.

But now, as you stare at the grinning creature with deadly wounds still standing there, you realised that the impossibility was killing it for good.

That black dust had returned it to life as if it were nothing. Everything you killed before, everything you kill now, will be meaningless. It will always come back to life.

Cocking the gun again, you are determined to at least slow it down. At least enough to find safety.

But you couldn’t even shoot before it’s suddenly in front of you, gripping tightly onto the barrel and twisting it around with blood-curdling strength.

The shotgun slips from your hands and something wraps around your throat before you can even run. It squeezes hard, lifting you so you were level with its creepy face, inching closer.

Its breath was rotten. You try and claw at its hand, kicking your legs. It didn’t budge one bit.

Those black, endless eyes bore flames into your skin. Your voice cracked as you attempted to call for help. It was useless.

Your throat was surely bruised by now, but you didn’t feel like you were losing air. It was almost as if it was taking the satisfaction of having you in its grip, helpless. It wasn’t killing you, but it wasn’t ever letting you go.

With only panic driving your actions, you let go of its burned hand and reach out to its face, digging your nails into its eyes to be returned a chilling screech.

Your body hit the ground and you gasped for air, coughing against the compression you felt in your throat. You needed to run.

Run.

Stumbling to your feet, you break out into a run towards the lab, ignoring the flaming of your muscles as you thudded across the grass. You needed safety. You needed back-up.

You needed Steve.

The glass crunched beneath you, your feet almost slipping out from under you. But you keep your balance, rushed footsteps echoing down the hallway. You couldn’t remember the turns.

A broken sob leaves your lips right before something heavy barrels into you and knocks you into the wall, sending a shooting pain into your shoulder. You hit the ground hard, gasping.

Its breathing heavy, that grin plastered to its face like it had no choice. You try to scramble away from it, shoes squeaking against the red slippery surface of the floor.

You couldn’t escape.

“Y/n?”

A voice calls out to you, but your mind is still ringing from the impact.

The thing starts leaning down towards you, dripping spots of blood from its mouth onto your face and you squeeze your eyes shut. You knew you couldn’t prepare yourself for anything. You knew the pain would be excruciating as it ripped you apart with those teeth. Those razor teeth.

Some high-pitched sound travels down the corridor. It sounded like… a scream?

The creature whips its head to the noise, that grin faltering ever so slightly. But you caught it.

It wasn’t enough to grab its attention, however, as the head turns back to you slowly, that smile growing even wider than humanly possible.

You hadn’t even realised tears were streaming down your cheeks until a drop patted against your jeans. You needed a miracle.

And just like that, another scream rips out from the unknown, and that smile snaps back towards the sound. And this time, it doesn’t ignore it.

Still gripping your twisted shotgun between claws, it starts moving back down the hallway, taking a familiar left. That initial relief was shattered by a deep-seeded cove of fear.

It was heading towards your friends. And they couldn’t kill it.

Gritting your teeth, you clutch your shoulder as you try to raise yourself from the ground. The first try had you back on the floor with a thump, a sob caught in your throat. You weren’t giving up.

Bracing yourself against the wall, you groan as a burning pain shoots back to your shoulder. But you keep going, your wobbling legs barely holding your weight, but staying strong enough to keep you upright. You needed to warn them.

By the time you had made it around the different hallways, relying on muscle memory to guide you, the monster was already stood in front of double doors, the very same that granted entrance to where the others were.

There’s a twitch in its head, and it turns around to face you. The lights overhead start flickering wildly, plunging you into moments of darkness. And yet its twisted face still remained in the black, staring, grinning.

You stumble back, still clutching your shoulder. You only had one option left.

Another scream rips through the air, louder this time. It glances over its shoulder, and when it returns to your stare, something has changed in its face.

Its forehead wrinkled, like it was frowning. No. Glaring.

It looked at you like it was plotting something sinister. Another glance over its shoulder and your stomach drops.

It was going to kill them.

“No.” You whisper out, shaking your head. Its grin only grows wider, stretching until the corners met those of its eyes, and you cry out.

It spins around, and starts taking steps towards the double doors, making you scream the only thing you can think to.

“Steve!”

A yell was what it took to snap Steve out of his own torment.

Nancy cried out as Jonathan was thrown across the hallway, cricket bat tumbling out of his hand. She raises her gun, shooting the chest. It turned its grin towards Robin.

Nancy shoots another bullet, piercing its ribcage. It moves towards the panic-stricken girl.

The last bullet goes straight through its head, and this time it stumbled back, giving Steve enough time to grab Robin and pull her behind him.

The creature looked like it was wobbling, and Steve thought for sure Nancy had killed it. But she hadn’t.

It turns towards them, practically ripping its skin as it smiled from ear to ear. Nancy lowers her empty gun in horror, looking to Steve as if he could have some explanation.

It was then that Steve really looks at the monster, taking it in. The warped shotgun, the blood-stained teeth.

The shell holes ripped through its neck.

His eyes stung as it all tied together in his brain, raising his bat. He knew it wouldn’t kill it, especially not after surviving bullet wounds. He was going to make sure it felt his anger.

The lights flickered above him as he span the bat around in his hand, striking upwards and hooking it just under the monster’s chin. It had just enough force to knock it backwards, and to burn the muscles in his arm. But he wasn’t done.

Next he struck its legs, nails driving into the back that had it screeching, hitting the ground.

And then it was a massacre. Over and over, he drove the bat down. Into its chest, its face, anywhere. He kept going and going and going. And when his arms started to get tired, he forced himself to swing the bat into this monsters chest harder. A relentless battering, black blood spurting out, oozing. Steve barely saw what he was doing. He only saw red, hot, rage.

“Steve!” Somebody shouts, but he isn’t listening.

The creature isn’t moving anymore. It barely had distinguishable features left. Steve had driven the bat down so many times, he was hitting what he assumed to be bone. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

“Steve!��

A hand is on his shoulder, pulling him away. The sudden action loosens his grip and the bat becomes lodged in the monster’s chest as he stumbles back.

“What are you doing, I have to-” He begins, but then he really looks, and all that fire for revenge is lifted from his body.

Because you’re stood there, clutching your arm, bruised but very much alive. He lets out a shaky breath. But he can’t speak. And it doesn’t look like you’re going to start the conversation either. So, rather, you’re both looking at eachother, unreadable expressions for undefined feelings.

“Well, I don’t think that’s getting up any time soon.” Robin’s voice cuts through, a nervous laugh in her throat. But then she makes eye contact and tightens her lips. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

She runs to pull you into a hug and you wince. She steps back, muttering a repeated apology as she takes in your state.

“What the hell did you get up to?” She asks, barely a whisper, like she didn’t even want to know.

“It’s a long story that… honestly… doesn’t make much sense.” You sigh, biting your lip as it threatened to wobble. The corners of your mouth would always drag your lips down into a frown when you were sad, an uncontrollable tell.

“Hey, you’re okay.” Robin shushes, and this time you let her hug you. Because how else were you meant to start dealing with everything that just happened?

“Jonathan?” Nancy taps her boyfriend’s face, crouched beside him. After a second nudge, he blinks awake, looking dazed.

“What did I miss?” He asks with a gruff voice as Nancy slowly helps him up, checking his head for any wounds.

“Uh, you got launched like five feet across the room into a wall.” Robin relays and you pull away from her frowning. “That thing wasn’t messing around.”

“Why didn’t it die?” Nancy questions as she helps Jonathan to his feet, inspecting a bruise at the back of his head. “I shot it. It should have died.”

“How do we know it’s dead now?” You wonder out loud, and your eyes wander back to the body by the door. Steve had done a number on it for sure. Even if it did get back up, it wouldn’t be moving fast.

“I can’t believe there were two of them.” Steve mutters, frowning down at the body as he wipes his bloodied hands on his jeans, “How did we miss that?”

You should have told him. You should have told all of them the truth. But you still couldn’t believe it was real. Maybe you had blacked out, made your way outside just to run into that grinning creature. A different one. It made more sense than time-stopping black dust resurrecting the dead. You’ve dealt with enough people telling you were crazy. You couldn’t go through that again.

You would get your answer when you left here. If the original body was still a disfigured mess in the grass, then you would know.

“I need to get him some ice.” Nancy announces, sending a look of apology to Jonathan as he winces. Her eyes shift to you. “And I think we should definitely get you checked out.”

“You look like hell.” Robin agrees, surrendering her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, you still look cool as fuck but you’re covered in blood and bruises right now.”

Frowning, you take a glance down at yourself for the first time. She wasn’t wrong. That slick of blood you had slipped in earlier coated your sneakers and your hands. Your neck was surely blue and purple from the monstrous grip of claws wrapped around your throat. And the pain in your shoulder was throbbing to a painful extent.

“Okay.” You sigh, feeling exhausted.

“Lead the way.” Steve clears his throat, nodding at Nancy as she wrapped an arm around Jonathan to keep him steady. He ignored how hurt that made him feel.

He stomps his foot down on the creature’s chest to heave out his bat before he left, one sharp tug to dislodge his weapon from a ribcage. At least, that what he assumed it was. He wasn’t even sure this thing had an anatomy he would recognise.

Turning, he sees Nancy and Jonathan taking lead, a chattering Robin beside them. And you, crouching down by a shotgun way beyond repair.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to shoot anything with that.” Steve comments and you stand back up, pursing your lips.

“Hopper’s gonna kill me.” You say, brows furrowed.

Steve almost laughed. You were stood here, clutching what could be a dislocated shoulder, covered in blood and scrapes from fighting off a foreign monster, and yet your biggest concern was breaking one of your dad’s many shotguns.

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” He chuckles, but you simply look up at him, biting your lip.

“Yeah.” You give a small smile before nodding to the others. “We should keep up.”

Another instance in which Steve felt like he said the wrong thing. You were walking away from him again, looking too defeated to argue. Again. But he didn’t want to let it go, or leave you alone. Three days ago he wouldn’t have given you a single thought. That was before you both survived together, he supposed.

“I know a thing or two about strict dads, you know.”

You almost jump when you see Steve suddenly beside you, lips tight as he matched your pace. This was unusual.

“Uh…” You weren’t sure how to respond. As said, this was unexpected.

“Yeah, I, um…” He looks at the back of Nancy’s head, the girl too mesmerised by your best friend’s rambling to notice, “Remember how I told you a, um, a girl when missing in my backyard?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. Barbara Holland. You had assumed she had ran away like everyone else claimed. Hearing the real story had your stomach churning.

“You know what I said when Nance wanted to go to the police?” He raised an eyebrow and you frown. “I was worried about my dad finding out we were drinking. A girl literally disappeared and I was terrified I was gonna get in trouble with my dad. I mean… how shitty is that?”

“Sounds like he’s an asshole.” You say before thinking. But Steve laughs, nodding his head.

“A real piece of work.” He smiles a little sadly, looking at you. “So, yeah. I get it. The whole… afraid what your dad is gonna say.”

“No, he’s not-” You start, biting your lip as you’re all directed around a corner. Steve holds the door open for you, arm stretched above so you could duck under. “It’s not like that. We’re just… complicated, I guess.”

“A ‘sometimes we fight but we’re family’ complicated or…” He leaves the sentence unfinished and you almost squirm. Now wasn’t the right time to be honest.

“Or.” You send a knowing look. The swinging bat dangling from his fingers catches your eye. “So… you really showed that thing boss, huh?”

“Hm?” Steve raises his brows before clocking his now bloody bat, some nails looser than others. “Oh, right. Yeah, I, uh… I don’t really know what happened there.”

A lie shot straight through his teeth. He had seen enough to think you were dead. That you had been taken away from him when he had his back turned again, and this time you were caught right between the teeth, defenceless. It was a flash of guilt that turned into anger. A moment of weakness he didn’t quite understand.

“Do you at least feel better?” You ask, a smirk on your lips. “Looked kinda therapeutic in, like, a really messed up way.”

He takes a moment, suppressing a laugh, before looking at you. To be honest… “Yeah. I feel a whole lot better.”

The lab wasn’t as completely clear as you thought to believe when you first arrived.

Nancy and Jonathan led you around the long way, claiming that they had to mark off doors because of a demodog infestation they were dealing with the first day. Something about a smaller gate that had opened but immediately closed.

That and the occasional screams. The scariest part was how used you became to them. Like they were a normal part of life now, a mere sound to be ignored.

“It’s just up here.” Jonathan points ahead, arm slung around Nancy’s shoulder any time he felt woozy. Concussions were no joke. You knew that. So did Steve.

“Thank god.” Robin mutters, earning a smirk from Steve. “What? My feet hurt. Sue me.”

You were too busy mentally preparing yourself for what would be behind that final door. Would he even care? Is he just going to tell you how stupid you are for getting detention in the first place? Was he going to forgive you for what you said to him?

“You okay?” Steve’s voice interrupts your smarming thoughts and you nod, smiling.

“Yeah.” You brush it off, raising your eyebrows. “I bet you’re excited to see Dustin.”

“What?” Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Why would I care? It’s cool. It’ll be good to see him. Don’t think I’m excited.”

“Uh-huh.” You sound unconvinced and he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.” He says, but he can’t force the smile away from taking hostage of his lips.

You notice the others have stopped suddenly and your heart pangs. Another creature? Blood? Something horrible-

The jingle of keys has you uncurling your fists as Nancy struggles to pull them out of her pocket. Steve immediately steps forward to hook his arm under Jonathan, relieving her of his weight. She sends him a gracious look, but you observe the way Steve avoids her eyes. He must be hating every second of this.

“Okay.” She breathes out, slotting the key into a metal door. “We lock the door anytime we leave, just in case. We take shifts so some of us end up sleeping between. Don’t wanna be blind-sided.”

“It’s a good idea.” You say and she smiles.

“This way.” She announces as she swings open the door.

It was like stepping into a sci-fi movie. Lab equipment everywhere, some now lifeless machines, a large glass window overlooking rows of metal staircases, cages.

And a giant gate to hell staring back at you.

You weren’t sure what to expect when Steve told you there was a portal connecting worlds, but never did it look so… real. Like it was breathing light.

“Woah.” Robin sounds beside you and you mindlessly nod.

“We’re just down here.” Nancy says from the other side of the room, nudging open another door. It opened to a deep staircase, like it was leading down to a bunker. Which, as you come to realise, was exactly the case.

There were so many twists and turns to this lab, unknown hallways, undiscovered rooms. At the end of the day, it wasn’t your average lab. It was more like a shelter. A prison that could never let anyone or any thing out.

Three taps against the final door. Nancy’s hand wavered in the air as she listens out. You can only hear your heartbeat. This is what you have been surviving for since everything was flipped to a nightmare. Was it worth it?

The door clicks open, a pair of drowsy, blinking eyes filling the small gap.

“What are you-” They squint before widening the door frame fully. A toothy grin erupts on the face of a short boy. “Oh my god!”

Dustin flies forward to Steve, grabbing him in a tight hug that send the older boy stumbling back.

“Woah, easy there tiger.” He laughs, but the joy on his face has you smiling too.

“Wait. How did you- We thought-” Dustin stumbled through sentences, taking in his face, the bat in his hand, the smear of blood on his jeans. “You survived an apocalypse. Do you know how badass that is?!”

Steve simply chuckles, ruffling his hair. He wasn’t sporting his usual cap. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t alone.”

To your surprise, his eyes drift to you. Dustin whips his head around with a frown before his eyes widen.

“No way.” He breathes and you give a small wave. Which, in return, lands you an excruciating hug. You try and bear the pain, appreciating the sentiment too much to tell him.

“Uh, maybe be a little more careful there, dude.” Steve gently pulls him away and Dustin pouts.

“Why?” He frowns, looking up at you. And then he looks at you. “You look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks, Dustin. Good to see you too.” You laugh, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“This is…” Dustin looks between you both in bewilderment, “We thought you were dead.”

Your stomach drops, a detail you wish you had forgotten. Everyone in that room thinks you’re dead. And you weren’t looking forward to the reactions of your sudden resurrection.

“We know.” Steve ruffles his hair again. “Come on, show us the way.”

“Right.” He snaps his fingers, turning around. “Oh, you’re gonna love what we’re doing. It’s like full battle mode in there-”

Dustin stops, staring up at a girl he’s never seen before. “Hi. I’m Dustin.”

“I’m Robin.” She replies with an amused smirk.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He nods.

“Likewise.” She returns with a sceptical tone.

“So… the battle mode.” You return the conversation and he smiles. You were now caught in the web of Dustin’s ramble, the boy rushing through a series of events like they were nothing while simultaneously commenting on how ‘cool’ you looked.

As he did, he led you all through another room. It was a little dark, but in the distance you heard murmured conversation. There were tables here, lined with various weapons, maps. There were notebooks too, some scribbles that looked like Hopper’s handwriting. Your wandering hand brushed over them. He had written down everything he was learning.

“Oh, and we’re having a hard time closing the gate. It’s like something is blocking El’s powers.” Dustin says, glancing behind you to where Steve was smirking with a perked brow. “You know what a gate is, right? Did Steve explain? Did he tell you about…”

“Y/n?”

You take your hand away from the table and glance up, overwhelmed by every emotion coursing through your head, your chest. It was feeling everything and nothing at all. You were frozen, waiting for something to pull you under the ice. A scowl, a yell, anything.

Instead, you end up moving closer, heart pounding.

“Dad.” You finally let out, a sad smile breaking loose as he eventually catches you in a tight hug, planting a kiss on top of your head. Your shoulder stung, but it was nothing compared to the shattering guilt you were feeling. He had already lost a daughter. You didn’t want him to ever feel that again.

“Aw.” Dustin pouts, nudging Steve’s shoulder. He looks up to see Steve looking on with a smile and Dustin can’t believe his eyes. Was the Steve Harrington actually feeling happy for Y/n Hopper?

“We should give them some privacy.” Robin suggests with a whisper and the others nod, Nancy silently leading them past the reunion and out the next door.

It took a little while for you to pull away, wiping away the quiet tears that had slipped down with hoodie sleeves.

“Hi.” You laugh and he clears his throat, hands resting gently on your upper arms.

“Where the hell have you been, kid?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound mad. If anything, it was sadness.

“It’s a really long story.” You sigh and he shakes his head, smiling.

“I’ve got time.”

You were all stood around a circular table, a large flashlight sat near an edge to illuminate the map you were staring down at. The lights overhead had been flickering on and off for too long.

“They’re scattered all over the place now. We don’t think there’s any connection.” Hopper explains, pointing to the crosses marked across the map. There were almost too many to count now.

Apparently Hopper and Joyce were keeping track of the unexpected gates to the best of their ability, mostly from Dustin’s radios picking up calls for help moments from disaster.

Joyce was in another room – behind a glass that connected it to yours – with Jonathan as Hopper explained the situation to you and Steve, applying an ice pack to her son’s head while preparing some painkiller. You had taken ibuprofen for your shoulder, using a cloth to wipe off any blood. Your throat was still as sore as ever, but it would heal.

Robin had taken your advice on getting some sleep, even after arguing that it should be you getting some rest. You didn’t feel like you could shut your eyes just yet, however. Her reluctance finally led her following after a strangely cheerful Dustin to where they kept the ‘sleeping quarters’.

The others were apparently resting too, unaware of your or Steve’s arrival. Moments prior to this meeting, you and Hopper and sat and talked. About the monsters, about survival. But neither of you have really opened up yet. There was still time.

“And El can’t close them?” Steve asks, earning a tight nod.

“She’s trying her best, but it’s not the same as last time.” Hopper replies, and you frown, tilting your head down at where one of the bigger ‘X’s was marked.

“You said it started at the high school?” You prompt, looking up at him. “What causes these gates to open?”

“That’s what we’re tryna figure out.” He admits with a deep sigh. His hand runs down his face. “El thinks she may have opened the one from the lab. Something about… her psychic connection, that Shadow Walk Dustin keeps droning on about.”

“Shadow Walk?” You frown and Steve nods.

“Hm. She can apparently find people in this weird black void thingy.” He shrugs and you bite your lip.

“So… the gates open when someone makes a connection to this… Upside Down?” You ponder and Hopper hums a response. “Is El making these connections now?”

“She’s mostly been resting. It’s taken a lot out of her. As far as I know, she’s only trying to close the gate, not communicate with whatever hell is behind it.”

“And if she’s not doing it…” You scrunch your face. You felt tired, and achy. You really weren’t sure what your brain was trying to tell you until it finally clicked, staring down at the outline of your high school building. You then follow that trail of red markings, all the way back to the lab. “It has to be someone else.”

“Huh?” Steve raises a brow and you tap the map.

“It’s random because… because someone could literally just be walking around.” You start, still staring back at confused expressions. “You said that this Upside Down was literally a flipped version of Hawkins, right? All these places that gates have been opening… we went to them. Here. The high school. Then down here, Cornwallis near Steve’s house. The trailer park, the cabin, the arcade-”

“All the places we went.” Steve realises and you nod, sharing in his look of horror. “All the places we got attacked.”

“What’re you saying?” Hopper straightens, glancing between you both. “That the gates are following you?”

“No, not necessarily.” You furrow your brows, trying to make sense of it. “I’m just saying that Steve and I were travelling around Hawkins. We didn’t have a set route, in fact we were detouring so much I started to doubt we’d ever make it here, but what I’m trying to say is that our path to the lab was random. Could someone… could someone also be walking around just as randomly in the Upside Down?”

Steve’s eyebrows raise as Hopper ponders your theory. You were notorious in high school for, well… it wasn’t for being a ‘good’ student. In fact, Steve has seen you in detention enough times to know you had been flunking classes more times than not. But you were smart, clearly smarter than you realised. And, as he looks at Hopper’s expression, he knew it too.

“You’re suggesting that someone, or, hell, something, might be responsible for these gates?” Hopper leans forward and you nod.

“I know I haven’t known about all this nearly as long as you guys have,” You start, avoiding his eyes, “But if I were to assume anything, it would make sense that there could be someone else out there just like El.”

“It’s a good theory.” Hopper approves and you smile, quickly dropping it as you notice shadows entering the room.

Four silhouettes chatting away until they clock your existence. They stop and you’re scared if you move too much, you’ll spook them.

“No way.” Lucas gapes as Will and Mike stop beside him, eyes wide. They look between you and Steve like they had seen a ghost.

“I told you.” Dustin smirks smugly, arms folded as his friends still look on in shock.

“Hi.” You give a small wave, and Will waves back silently, still wide eyed.

“You’re alive.” Mike points out, then turning to Steve. “You’re also alive.”

Steve takes a sarcastic glance down at himself. “Huh, would you look at that.”

Mike simply rolls his eyes in return and you try to smile. But Will is still staring at you. Or, more specifically, your neck. It’s probably brightly coloured right now so it made sense to draw in his eyes, however you don’t think that’s the case. He looks a little panicked, and you didn’t know why, but you felt uneasy.

“Alright, quit staring.” Hopper interjects, rubbing his face before looking back at you. “I’m gonna tell Joyce your theory. Maybe we can figure out a way to test it.”

And with that, he leaves the room to you and Steve, both feeling creeped-out by the constant stares.

“Any of you weirdos gonna say anything?” Steve finally snaps, and they all simply shake their heads in silence. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This. This I didn’t miss.”

He redirects his focus to you and your eyebrows raise when he says nothing, an unreadable look on his face.

“Don’t you start doing it too.” You groan, tilting your head and wincing as the side of your forehead stung. You immediately place a hand over the strips of medical tape. “Fuck.”

“What?” Steve is immediately moving towards you, an unconscious reaction.

“I think I need to change the tape.” You hiss as you feel the skin being pulled back open, using your fingers to pinch it together.

“Yeah, okay, hold on, I’ll find some.” He quickly says, heading to the door that led to where he assumed they kept the medical equipment. You watch him from behind the glass as he rifles through some things, earning a curious glance from Jonathan still holding an ice pack to his head.

When you look back at the kids, you notice they’re smirking. If you weren’t worried about ripping open your wound, you’d raise a suspicious eyebrow.

“What?” You ask hesitantly, and Lucas shrugs.

“Nothing.” He says in a sing-song manner, sharing a smile with Mike.

“What?” You repeat again, and Dustin has to cover his mouth and look away, smothering his own laugh. Will tries a smile at that, but that same haunted look was stuck to his face.

“Here.”

Steve rushes back into the room and dumps some more tape on the table, carefully replacing your hand with his as he delicately removes the ruined strips from your forehead. You try not to react, resting your hand against the table, looking anywhere but his eyes that were barely centimetres from your face. You couldn’t resist in the end, gaze travelling from where his hand acquired a strip of tape to the concentrated dimple between his brows, right down to where his lips…

Get a grip, you think, holding your breath.

“Okay.” He eventually says, assessing his handiwork. “I think you should be good.”

“Thanks.” You offer, sighing. You can hear the muffled giggles across the room but you know acknowledging it will only make it worse.

“Is everyone here?” Hopper holds open the door for Joyce and Jonathan, Nancy following closely behind with a water bottle that she hands to Mike. You suspected they were rationing it. You weren’t entirely sure how far this apocalypse had gone when it came to necessities.

“Um, Robin is sleeping, should I…” Dustin gestures behind him but Steve folds his arms.

“I wouldn’t.” He comments and you suppress a smirk.

“Where’s El?” You suddenly frown. Since you’ve arrived, she hasn’t been anywhere in sight. Which you tried to ignore, but you couldn’t help wanting to see her, hug her. She was meant to be family now, after all, even if you couldn’t seem to admit it yet.

“Uh…” Mike shares a look with Hopper, but Joyce answers you.

“The last attempt took a lot of out her.” She shares, nodding to the door that the boys had walked through. “We’re just letting her rest until she feels better.”

“So we’re just waiting for the other two.” Mike shrugs and Lucas folds his arms.

“We only need one of them.” He huffs and Mike looks sympathetic at that.

Just as you were about to ask who they were talking about, Hopper clears his throat.

“We can fill them in later, right now we need a plan.” He stands tall at the table and the kids move closer so everyone was practically shoulder to shoulder. “Y/n thinks she may have an idea on how these gates are opening. We can’t say for certain that it’s true, but it’s the closest we’ve gotten.”

You nod and the conversation continues, your worried eyes drifting to that same metal door. How long did El need to rest for? Was it serious? You had only found out she had powers three days ago, hearing that she was shutting a giant portal to another dimension, for a child to be stuck with that responsibility? It felt wrong.

“What we know right now, is that the first gate to open outside of the lab was at the high school.” Hopper states, pointing to the map with a stab of his finger. “If Y/n’s right and something else is out there opening gates, we need to find it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Nancy questions, scrunching her brows.

“This lab gate-”

“Mothergate.” Dustin corrects and Hopper takes in a deep breath.

“This mothergate won’t close until we neutralise what’s threatening to keep it open.”

“How can we do that if we can’t see it?” Lucas asks, shaking his head.

“We go to its turf.” Hopper says simply and your head shoots up, eyes wide.

“Into the Upside Down?” You exasperate, “Won’t that be dangerous?”

“Yes.” He nods, lips tightly shut. “Which is why it’ll be me going down there.”

“By yourself?!”

“What about us?”

“No way.”

A roar of outburst cut through as you were all struggling to convince him. It wasn’t a set plan, barely even one at that. And to be doing it by himself? What would that achieve?

“It’s the safest option for all of us!” His loud voice cuts through, slashing a sharp silence into the air. He sighs, clicking his jaw. “It’s not worth risking anyone else’s lives for a theory.”

“But it’s worth risking yours?” You challenge, and everyone is glancing between you both, immediately feeling the tension. You swore to yourself you weren’t going to fight with him again, but this was a serious issue. You needed to be heard. “What are the rest of us meant to do while you’re on this suicide mission, then? Just twiddle our thumbs and pray that our hero makes it back in one piece?”

“Y/n-” He warns, but you’re sick of just being ordered around.

“You’re not even going to entertain the idea that you don’t go into the mouth of hell all alone? Is your opinion really worth that much over everyone else’s?”

“Y/n.” He says again, lowering his voice with a glare. “We will talk about this privately.”

“So you can just tell me I’m being dramatic then get yourself killed?!” You try and remain calm, but your emotions are grasping hold of your voice beyond control. “And when I’m wrong about there being someone else controlling the gates and you die, how am I meant to live with that? What about El?!”

“Enough!” He shouts and you try to continue, but he’s quick. “We can’t get emotional over these decisions. I have the experience, I’ve been down there before. We’ve found a way to communicate with Dustin’s radios and El can track me if necessary. End of discussion.”

Tears prick at your eyes for a second before you’re pushing away from the table and heading towards the door that will lead you back up to the lab.

“Where are you going?” Hopper takes a few steps towards you but you hold your hand out, swiping a knife from the table of weapons.

You say nothing as you’re out the door and shutting it behind you, taking in deep breaths as you stalk down the hallway with a tight grip on the sharp object. He was still treating you like a child. And maybe your anger had gotten the better of you, but he wasn’t listening.

Hopper’s back is turned to the others, staring at the door like it would shatter. Steve could tell he was restraining from following you. He cared. He really cared. It was clear neither of you were great at explicitly stating it.

“I’ll, uh…” Steve speaks up, walking over to the table and grabbing his trusty bat. Hopper looks at him with a torn expression before letting out a sigh and turning away.

“That was intense.” He hears Dustin mutter as he exits, the only thing running through his mind being the conversation he hadn’t even prepared for.

Steve eventually finds you, your back pressed up against the wall as you fiddle with the knife between your fingers. You weren’t in a mess of tears like he had expected. Instead, your head was down with a worn expression. You were tired.

Silently, he takes the seat next to you, almost a shoulder brush away as he braces his arms on his knees, using the height to swing the bat between his legs as he searched for what to say.

“He doesn’t get it.”

You speak first, much to his surprise, eyes glued to the knife. Steve shifts to see you better, frowning.

“Get what?”

“Anything.” You laugh sadly, finally meeting his eyes. “He can’t see past his own rules he’s set for himself. Like he has to always be the one responsible, to blame.”

“Blame?” He repeats and you sigh, biting your lip.

“It’s hard to…” Your voice drifts and you’re staring back at the knife. You’re holding back from him and he knows it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” He says and your head whips up. “I get why. We’re not… pals.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “No. Probably not.”

You sit for a while longer in the quiet before you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath.

“Do you remember that picture?” You suddenly ask. There was no going back now. “The one I picked up from the cabin?”

As Steve slowly nods, you’re reaching into your jeans and pulling out that very photo, gently unfolding it after discarding the knife with a clatter to the floor.

“I remember my mom taking this photo.” You smile sadly, observing the faces like you had forgotten them. But you never forgot. “She, uh… she got sick of him always taking photos of us with her and finally made him stop and pose. It was like he was always preserving memories for the rest of us.”

“It’s… um…” You frown, eyes focused on the little girl in blonde pigtails, smiling widely at the camera with the cutest grin. “It’s the last photo we have together.”

Steve doesn’t dare to breathe, afraid it’ll ruin the moment, ruin your chance to finally get something off your chest. So he stays as silent as can be, listening intently. And when you unexpectedly hand the photo to him, he grabs it without objection, watching as you point to the little blonde girl stood beside a younger you.

“She’s my sister.” You finally admit, barely a whisper. “Sara.”

“I didn’t know you have a sister.” Steve says, looking down at the grinning girl. He knew your mom was elsewhere, he had never assumed she would also be with a sibling. To be honest, he had never taken the time to learn much about you, not even when you weren’t ripping out eachother’s throats.

“Had.” You say softly and his heart drops, immediately looking to you. Your eyes are glued to the photo, tears pooling. “She died when I was 11.”

“I’m sorry.” He was sure you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t now a breath away from eachother, huddled up against a wall just ignoring the world around.

“Cancer.” You nod slowly, eyes never leaving the captured memory. “It was all so sudden. One day she was fine, we were playing with dolls or something stupid. And then the next, she was in hospital. Just like that.”

You eventually take the photo back from him, staring at it one last time before folding it back up and slipping it back into your pocket.

“Hopper blamed himself for it. Something about being exposed to something when he was in the war.” Your head lolls back to rest against the wall. “My mom blamed him too, not that she really said it out loud.”

Steve couldn’t believe how comfortable you were sharing this with him. But then again, he also couldn’t believe how happy he was that you were. Maybe neither of you would admit it but it didn’t make it less obvious; you had a bond.

“He left and I thought he didn’t care about me anymore.” You sniffle slightly, blinking back the tears teetering towards the edge. “I didn’t think he cared when I was forced to move in with him, or when he would ignore me any time I wanted to talk about Sara. He was grieving and I was a kid who didn’t understand what was happening. Or why he blamed himself.”

“It has to be hard losing someone. Especially a child.” Steve comments and you hum an agreement.

“He was scared. I know that now. And I was so…” You wave your hand, searching for the word. “Cruel. I only ever made things worse.”

“Don’t say that.” He frowns, searching your face. It looked like it was full of grief. Grief of the guilt you never let yourself feel.

“The last time I saw him, we had a fight. A huge one. It wasn’t even his fault.” You take a deep breath. “He’s always kept a part of my sister on him. One of her ‘lucky’ blue hairbands. She loved them. Refused to go outside without her hair in bunches.”

You smile at the memory before clearing your throat, finally meeting Steve’s eyes. You can do this. You can be honest.

“When El started living with us, I was scared he was trying to replace her. Maybe even a little scared he was replacing me. A new daughter. A new chance. I liked El, don’t get me wrong. She was so sweet… she was literally just a child that needed a home. So I pretended like I didn’t care.”

Shifting around, you bring your knees to your chest and relax your shoulders, mindlessly picking at the loose threads around your knees from one too many trips.

“The morning before we got detention, I, uh… I came out of my room to see El sitting there in front of the TV. She got really excited to show me something, said that Hopper gave it to her.”

You bite your bottom lip and Steve can see the way your lips are tugging down. You didn’t have to say anything, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“I was so mad. And I was wrong. I screamed, I yelled at him. I made sure El was in a different room but she probably heard everything.” Your eyes were starting to glitter now, lowering your head. “I told him that he was a shit father, that he couldn’t just replace her like that. I… I wanted him to hurt the same way I was. I didn’t even mean any of it. And until half an hour ago, I thought that was the last thing I had said to him.”

Your head hangs lower and you struggle to keep the tears from falling. “I feel like a monster sometimes. Everyone at school hates me and- and I don’t blame them. I’m a horrible person.”

Steve was never good at wording his sympathy. Words in general would get caught in his throat, be thrown around in his head in struggle to form a coherent sentence. So, rather than blurt out a string of words that would leave you confused, he tenderly reached out to where your hand was pulling at loose threads and places his hand over it.

“No, you’re not.”

You still under his touch, surprised but… comforted. Your eyes move up to meet where his soft brown irises were already looking at you. Like really looking.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment the cosmic balance of your seething relationship had shifted. Was it this moment right here, or was it a feeling that had slipped past unnoticed before? Either way, sitting here, staring up at Steve Harrington with nothing but a sense of longing, you knew you could never hate him again. And that seemed scarier than anything you had encountered in this apocalypse.

Steve’s heart ached when you pull away, taking in a breath and retrieving the knife from the floor beside you. His hand itched to be touching yours again.

He had been dodging his feelings for so very long. You had surprised him, shown him that you were more than everyone else thought. Selfless, empathetic, complicated in the better ways. This morning, the moment you shared on the hood of his car, he regretted not taking that leap. Because he can’t avoid it any longer.

Steve liked you. A lot. Too much to just be a fleeting crush. It was time to stop pretending he didn’t.

“We should probably get back.” You nod before pushing off the floor and to your feet, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie, ignoring that fluttering feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t fall for Steve Harrington. You wouldn’t get hurt again. Even if that means pretending for a little longer that you didn’t care.

When you eventually make it back into the room, your heart racing from anger and embarrassment, you only find Joyce and the kids were the only ones in the room.

“He’s making preparations.” Joyce says when she sees your eyes darting across the room, offering a small smile. “And he changed his mind. He’s not going alone.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised that Hopper ever would listen to you and your concerns. Maybe it was from the collective disagreement rather than yours.

“We discussed it and thought it best that two others go with him. That way no one is alone.” She explains. It should have made you happy, but your stomach is still twisting. He was still risking his life.

“I can go with him.” You suddenly say and the hushed murmurs of the Party in the corner are cut off, eyes on you.

“No.” Steve blurts and you turn to him. “You’re- you can’t, okay?”

“Why not?” You frown and he lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, I’ll go.”

“Seriously?” You raise your eyebrow and face him fully.

Steve meets your eyes and shrugs. “What?”

“You can go but I can’t?” You challenge and he lets out an exasperated sound, gesturing to you.

“I’m not the one with a broken shoulder-”

“Bruised.”

“Or two concussions!” He points out and you shut your mouth. Just when he had thought he’d won, you roll your eyes and glare at him.

“Ooh, excuse me, King Steve, I didn’t mean to interrupt your heroic declare.”

“Cry me a river.”

“How about I drown you in one?”

“Okay.” Joyce laughs nervously, intervening. “Before someone… uh, murders the other, I feel I should tell you that they’ve already decided who’s going.”

You both frown, anticipating the answer.

“Nancy decided it be best she go.” She says, almost solemnly. You supposed she’s known Nancy since she was little. It had to be hard watching kids do these things. “I would have but… one of us needs to stay here.”

In case the other doesn’t make it back. She didn’t say it, barely implied it. But it was there, lingering in the back of your mind.

“Who’s the other?” Steve prompts, assuming it would be Jonathan. But the eldest Byers kid was sat in a chair with an ice pack still pressed against the back of his head, looking a little ill. He did hit his head pretty hard.

“About that…” Dustin suddenly appears beside you, looking like he was already apologising for something, and Steve’s face drops.

“What? No. Don’t tell me they’re gonna send a kid-”

“Not me, dude.” Dustin scrunches his face, shaking his head. “Come on.”

“Then who?”

In that moment, the door to the sleeping quarters open to show Max Mayfield, her red hair a little frizzy from what you assume to be from sleep. She locks eyes with you and her expression brightens.

“They told me you weren’t dead.” She smiles and you can’t help but return it. You hadn’t expected her to be here, but you were happy she was.

“Can’t get rid of me, you know that.” You laugh.

“You two know eachother?” Steve furrows his brows in confusion. It made sense, you were both stubborn and a little intimidating. Perfect recipe for Steve’s nightmare duo.

“Yeah, I…” You begin before your voice trails off. Max avoids his eyes, wearing a suspicious expression.

Before Steve can open his mouth, the answer to his burning question walks right in like a car crash. Stood there with his hand on his hip, a familiar denim jacket hanging from his shoulders, a look of surprise that creeps into a smirk.

Steve sees your demeanour shift, standing a little straighter, like you were alert and intrigued at the same time. You wore an amused look on your face and he can’t comprehend it.

“Billy.” You state, and Max raises her hands in surrender before walking away, a soft groan of disgust echoing with her retreat.

“Hey, babe. Long time, no see.” Billy replies, and Steve’s brain explodes into a million little pieces. Babe?!

As Steve stares between you both, the door swings open again. This time, a very tired looking girl joins everyone in the room, oblivious to what was around her. Robin yawns, rubbing her eyes as she tries to focus.

“What did I miss?” She asks, noting Steve’s look of despair and her head slowly turns to the boy stood in front of you. Her face twists to an unreadable expression. “Fuck.”

The apocalypse just got a little more interesting.

Chapter Eleven: Once Bitten ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things reader insert #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #apocalypse au #st2 #stranger things au #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #robin buckley

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fixfoxnox · 10 months

Text

Letters To Love - Part 4

Word Count: 9.1k

Description: Soap and Roach attend a banquet and take one step forward in dealing with Makarov, only to be forced to take one step back.

Warnings: Semi-NSFW (heavy kissing, light petting, dirty thoughts), Roach gets called a whore, dub-con implied/mentioned

Two Weeks Before The Wedding

"I can't do this, I won't do this!"

Roach stormed past his mother, anger burning through his chest. He was practically seething and all he could think was that he should have seen something like this coming. He should have known that Makarov had something planned. He'd been too quiet.

Roach had only seen him briefly since that day he'd been cornered in his room, since the moment that he'd felt overwhelming anxiety and fear burn through him. The past few weeks had been blessedly quiet. Things had been practically perfect.

He'd spent them tucked at Soap's side, taken on frequent dates and getting to know the man that he was now sure would one day be his husband. It had been a breath of fresh air for Roach. A period of complete calm and happiness that he wasn't sure he'd ever had the privilege of before.

Makarov had been breathing down his neck since they were children. He'd always had his eyes on him, he'd always been watching him. And finally, finally, Roach had a break from the man. Finally, it seemed that he would get to be happy.

He'd let the thought of Makarov slip from his mind as he enjoyed walks through the garden, nature rides, picnics, trips into town, and frequent visits to Soap's camp outside of the city. It had all been perfect. Soap was...god he was incredible.

The man was kind and he made Roach laugh. Not the fake little laughs he would give to Makarov and other nobles he interacted with, but a real laugh. A laugh that pulled its way from his throat and forced the air from his lungs so violently that tears would pull to his eyes.

He was clever in a way that Roach had never seen before and he couldn't stop himself from hanging off of practically everything that Soap would say to him. He adored the man and Soap made it abundantly clear that he was adored in return.

When they kissed, it was like the entire world would fade around him. It was like the only thing that mattered in that moment was Soap and Roach and the place where they were connected. All of the static and the constant paranoia and the fear of being forced into a life that he didn't want would disappear with a sweet touch and a soft press of their lips together. Roach didn't have to worry about being forced into a life that he didn't want with Soap because, he'd decided, Soap was part of the life that he wanted.

It had been so easy to focus on Soap and Soap alone because Makarov had been quiet. It was unlike him and Roach should have known that things were too good to be true. Makarov was never quiet without reason and now, now Roach understood why he'd been silent.

"Gary Sanderson!" His mother followed after him, her face twisted up in anger, "Prince Makarov was generous enough to send over an outfit just for you. Despite everything, he is still showing such kindness to you and you will wear it!"

"It's disgusting and inappropriate!" Roach wheeled around, his own face red, "It's in his colors which is highly disrespectful to my fiance who will be there this evening. If Soap had sent this over, you would have had it thrown out immediately!"

"It is not inappropriate!" His mother snapped, "It covers you as it's meant to, it is elegant."

"And the chains?" Roach glared at her, "Yes I'm sure those are quite elegant and certainly not meant to send a message to my fiance. Makarov doesn't own me! I won't let him dress me up like I'm his personal doll!"

"He is the Prince!" His mother stormed after him as he rushed up the stairs toward his room, "While you are still living in this kingdom, while you are still in my house, while you remain unmarried, you will continue to respect him and his wishes!" She stopped his door with her hand, preventing him from slamming it in her face, "You will wear that outfit, Gary Sanderson. You will wear that outfit, even if I have to get rid of every other one that you own. So make the choice, wear it once, or only have it to wear from here on out!"

With that, she removed her hand and allowed Roach to slam the door shut. Despite how drastic her words seemed, Roach knew his mother. He knew his mother and he knew that she was telling the truth.

He didn't have a choice. As usual, he didn't have a choice. It seemed that, with his mother, he would never have a choice. The thought burned away at him and the anger that bubbled up in response was white hot. It refused to fade.

"There we are," his mother smiled at him as he made his way down the stairs toward where his entire family was waiting for him. "See, it isn't so bad, is it? All that fuss just for-"

Roach stormed past her. He didn't care to hear what she had to say and anger was still burning harshly through him. He was the first into his family's carriage and he made sure to tuck himself far against the window, keeping his eyes planted firmly outside.

His mother slid in after him and took the seat across from him in the carriage, he could feel her eyes burning into him. He stayed facing the window. Within several moments, the carriage had started moving and they were off toward the castle for dinner.

There was a tense silence that permeated the air of the carriage, it was clear that Roach's brothers had no intention to break it or try to soothe anything. He didn't blame them. He knew his father wouldn't either, he loved the man but it was too often that he deferred back to his mother.

"Gary," his mother chimed, her voice hard, "I'll remind you again that you should be grateful for this. Not everyone gets a gift from the prince."

Roach resisted the urge to snap back at her that not everyone had the Prince obsessed with them since they were a child either. He just continued to glare out of the window of the small carriage. He had no intention to speak with her for the moment.

He blocked everything out, letting his mind fall into a simple burning silence with the rocking of the carriage around him. Though he tried to block the sound out, he could hear the chains on the outfit that he was wearing clinking together.

It rang around his ears, reminding him of the icy cold from the outfit that seemed to be burning into his skin. It felt wrong. The fabric scratched at his skin, the chains chilled him and he could feel air flowing in through the areas of split cloth. It was tailored perfectly to him, a detail that made him feel all too ill. The black and gold of the outfit seemed to mock him. Whether he liked it or not, here he was, dressed as Makarov wanted him to be. He was dressed as though he belonged to the man.

He wanted to tear the outfit from his skin.

Seeing Soap was like a wave of relief to the anger that had been burning at him since the moment that stupid package had shown up at his house. Everything cooled with just the sight of him and, before Roach could stop himself, he was darting forward away from his family and into the arms of his fiance.

They were wrapped together for only a moment before Roach remembered himself. This wasn't one of their courting dates where Jackson and Price would look the other way when they got a bit too touchy or close, they were in public.

He pulled away at the thought and he could see on Soap's face that the other man understood why. Neither of them mentioned it, they just moved on and pretended that they hadn't just gotten a bit too close in front of Roach's family and several other guests at the castle.

"My love," Soap gave his usual greeting, pulling Roach close and lifting his hands to place kisses on the back of his hand then his wrists. The greeting always seemed to make Roach go a bright red and he could feel his heart fluttering in his chest at Soap's low greeting to him.

"Soap," he responded back simply, an excited smile tugging at his lips, "I'm delighted to see you. It's been days since our last outing together."

"I know," Soap responded, a smile pulled to his lips as he tucked Roach at his side, "I apologize my love. I've been trying to catch up on correspondence home." He paused for a long moment before whispering, "You've been keeping me well distracted."

Roach could feel heat sear down his spine at the words. His entire body felt alight with a low buzz of something he could only describe as want. He wanted Soap. He pushed it down. Now wasn't the time.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson," Soap greeted his family with a bright grin and slight bow, "A delight to see you again."

Roach's mother pressed her lips together tight, a clear look of distaste crossing her face. It just made the anger in Roach's chest burn back up. "Yes," she gave a clearly fake smile, "A delight to see you as well. We're delighted to have you joining everyone for dinner tonight."

"Any chance to see Roach," Soap looked down at him with a small smile and Roach could feel that anger begin to fade once again. How strange that such a small thing could calm him so much.

There was a sweet moment of calm where it seemed like perhaps Roach could be happy for the rest of the night tucked against Soap's side. Of course, that couldn't actually happen, though.

"What do you think of his outfit this evening?" Roach's head whipped toward his mother, a harsh glare on his face. She wore nothing more than a polite smile, but there was a glint in her eyes that made him see red.

"His outfit?" Soap glanced down at him briefly, "Ah, I hadn't even noticed it. He looks brilliant in anything he wears." Roach could feel his eyes trailing down his form and the urge to cry hit in strongly. He couldn't believe that he was letting himself be seen in the outfit. He didn't want to wear it. He hated it.

"I agree," his mother gave Soap a smile, "but you see this one is special, a gift from Prince Makarov. He's always been so kind as to do these things for Roach."

"That," Soap looked back down at him, "Actually makes quite a bit of sense." Roach resisted the urge to laugh at his words, but he did allow himself to relish in the brief flash of anger that crossed Soap's face. It meant that the man was feeling exactly what he was.

"And what does that mean?" Roach's mother asked, her voice tense.

Soap turned back to her with a small smile, "Only that it is understandable that a man who did wish to marry my fiance would make such a...weak grasp for some sort of hold over him." He turned back to Roach and his hand moved up to brush against the chains across his arms, "After all, what other reason would he have to dress my darling fiance in chains and the colors of his house. I must say, I cannot hold it against him." He shot Roach a wink, "If I had lost my chance with someone so wonderful as Roach, I would take what I can."

"You-" Roach's mother had gone a bit pale and even the rest of his family seemed shocked at Soap's words. None of them had expected him to so blatantly call out what Makarov had done. Roach expected that Makarov hadn't expected it either. It made sense though, Soap was a king. He was a higher status than Makarov and he had no reason to roll over and take such disrespect.

"It does not matter," Soap turned to his family with a small smile, "Once we are married the only colors that he will be dressed in are blue and silver. My colors."

With those words, Soap started to guide them away from his gaping family and into the large dining hall that had been set specifically for the event.

"Thank you," Roach whispered to him as they moved further into the room, heading toward their seats. Roach was set across from Soap at the table, but Soap was quick to rectify that by swapping the nameplate next to his seat with Roach's nameplate.

"Are you alright?" He helped Roach into his seat before moving their chairs closer and sitting beside him. He reached out again, allowing his hand to brush along the chains over Roach's thighs. His eyes trailed the deep neckline at his chest with careful eyes. In any other situation, it would have made Roach blush a bright red. "I did not think...with your country's customs, is this not a bit much?"

"It is," Roach took Soap's hand in his own and started to nervously play with his fingers. He needed some sort of distraction. "It's highly inappropriate. If I had chosen to wear this for myself, I would be a pariah. However, since Makarov chose it for me, people are much more willing to look the other way." He grit his teeth and glared at the door where his family were finally stepping into the room, "Including my mother."

Soap watched him for a long moment. He took one of Roach's hands in his own, stopping him from playing with his fingers. He rubbed sweet, soothing circles onto the skin of his wrist. "I will speak to the King and Queen about this. I am sure that they knew of his plans, but a complaint from me should prevent him from attempting anything in the future."

"Thank you," Roach could feel cool relief rush through him as Soap brought his hand up to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Soap would take care of him. He wouldn't just sit by and let Makarov continue to do things like this. Something about that was comforting.

The two sat together in a small bubble of peace for several minutes, just letting their hands tangle together as they spoke quietly about whatever came to their minds. Roach had been particularly interested in trying to learn more about Soap's kingdom recently, so he was more than happy to quietly listen to Soap talk about what his castle looked like. After all, it would be Roach's future home. Better to learn as much as he could.

Of course, they were at an event and, though Roach wished it could, their little bubble of peace couldn't last forever. It was broken with a call for everyone to rise for the arrival of the royal family.

Those who weren't already in their seats rushed to their places and chatter in the room fell to nothing as everyone stood. Moments later and the large doors to the dining hall opened, revealing the three members of the royal family, dressed in their best.

Roach resisted the urge to glare at Makarov and instead plastered a fake smile on his face as he stooped into a deep bow with everyone else at the table. Well, everyone other than Soap. He only gave a slight bow as a sign of respect while also refusing to lower himself below the king.

Within a few moments, the royals had taken their seats at the table. Roach noticed that Makarov seemed to glare at the man sitting next to him and he knew it was because that's where he was meant to be sitting. He pressed his lips together and tried to keep the glee he felt off of his face.

After a quick and rather boring speech from the king about Soap being a guest in the kingdom and some bullshit about celebrating their soon alliance with one another through his and Soap's marriage, everyone was able to be seated and the food began to be served.

Things were quiet at first, as they usually were at feasts like this one. Everyone was far too busy loading up their plates and getting a bit of food in their system, far too busy to talk. But, as usual, the longer that everyone sat at the table and the more chatter began to break out around the room. It started with only a few words before eventually turning into a low hum of voices that lay like a thick blanket over the table.

Roach wasn't a fan of feasts, mostly because he was usually forced to dress in something Makarov had gifted him and sit at the man's side all evening, entertaining whatever conversation the prince decided he wanted to have with him. Then usually, toward the end of the night, Makarov would have a bit of wine on his breath and feel brave enough to let his hands stroke along Roach's thighs under the table. Roach could do nothing but sit there and pretend not to be disgusted with the man.

Today was different though. Sure, Roach was still in one of the outfits that Makarov had gifted him, but the most important thing was that he was not seated next to the man. Instead, he was seated next to Soap. He soon realized that this made a world of difference.

Now he was sat next to Soap. A man who he adored, a man who he knew he could chat with for hours, a man who, in only two weeks' time, would be his husband. The thought made him excited. Never in his life did he think he would be excited at the prospect of marrying. He'd always assumed that he'd never have an option outside of Makarov. He'd known since he was a child that catching the attention of the Prince in the way that he had...it meant that he would be given very little choice in the realm of marriage.

Now though? Now he had someone sweet who actually cared about him and his comfort. Someone who made him happy. Someone who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

So Roach found that, so far, the feast had actually been quite nice. He got to sit next to Soap, tucked close enough that their arms would brush together occasionally. He got to whisper quietly with the man, laughing at his little jokes and listening excitedly as he told stories of his home and talked of places that he was excited to take him once they were married.

Roach found it easy to ignore Makarov's gaze piercing into him from across the table and his mother's downright murderous gaze from next to him. He knew she was angry about Soap's reaction to his outfit and he knew that she was likely angry at him for not trying to rebuff his fiance. He had no intention to rebuff Soap when the man was right about everything he'd said.

Ignoring everyone else at the table was easy. Unfortunately, they could not be allowed to ignore everyone all night. And, it seemed, once the desserts were brought out and served and the alcohol had been flowing for a decent amount of time, their time ignoring everyone was up.

"So, Soap, how has courting with Roach been going?" The king was the one who asked the question, a small polite smile on his face. He shared a glance with the queen beside him and it was clear to see what they were hoping for. Roach despised them terribly.

"It has been quite wonderful," Soap took Roach's hand in his own, tangling their fingers together before resting them on the table. It was a clear sign for anyone to see, a sign that said that he and Roach were quite happy together, thank you very much. "I've adored catching up with my fiance again and it almost feels as though there was no time between us." He brought their entwined hands up to press a kiss to Roach's skin, pulling a soft blush to his face.

"That is," the king gave a forced smile, "wonderful to hear. Tell us, what do the two of you plan to do next? I feel that you've practically enjoyed everything the kingdom has to offer already."

"Well," Soap gave him a smile, "I would be more than glad to take him out for picnics and walks as much as possible. The place doesn't matter to me, or the activity. All that matters is that I am with Roach."

"How sweet," the queen looked between the two of them, "But surely there must be something else the two of you have yet to do. You wouldn't want Roach getting bored, would you?"

"Well," Soap gave them a playful grin, "I suppose we've yet to be married yet. Perhaps we should move the wedding to when our next date was supposed to be." There was a brief pause before both the king and queen gave a nervous sort of laughter. It was clear they weren't fans of that idea and Roach had to bring his cup up to his lips to hide his laughter.

"Speaking of the wedding," he spoke as he brought his cup down, pulling the attention of everyone at the end of the table to him. "I was thinking that perhaps, rather than going anywhere for our next courting, we might stay in at my house?"

"What are you proposing, Roach?" it was Makarov who spoke up, glaring daggers at their entwined hands, still sitting clear to see on the table.

"Nothing inappropriate, I assure," he turned back to Soap with a nervous sort of smile, "It's just that our kingdom has a tradition. A dance that is typically performed by the married couple at their wedding. Um," he squeezed at Soap's hand, "I thought I might teach you? Assuming that you'd like to participate. We don't have to, of course."

"If it is something you want?" Soap gave him a reassuring smile and a quick squeeze of his own hand, "I will gladly learn it, my love."

"Thank you." Roach turned back to his food, trying to contain the grin that threatened to take over his face. Still, his excitement would be clear to anyone who looked at him.

The wedding dance had been the only part of a wedding that he'd ever even considered wanting. Of course, having to do it with Makarov would likely ruin it for him, but it was a private desire of his that he'd never really shared with anyone. He'd watched his brother do it at their own weddings and had been enamored with how romantic the entire thing was.

He'd never shared it with anyone. He'd never even put it in his letters to Soap when he was using them as a diary. It was something that would stay locked up tight in his mind because he'd never wanted the thought of it to be tainted for him in the way that other things had been. Until recently, he'd been content to keep the thought locked up tight in his mind, only present for the sweet fantasies that he'd occasionally allowed himself to indulge in. Fantasies where he would find someone sweet and be allowed to marry them instead of Makarov.

He'd realized only recently that Soap's arrival was like one of those sweet fantasies come to life.

"The wedding dance," the queen had a bit of a sour look on her face, "how sweet. It will be important that you have your chaperones there for the practices with how close it requires the two of you to be with one another."

"I assure you, your majesty," Roach gave her a small smile, "Paul will be watching like a hawk."

His words seemed to only sour her expression further. Still, she gave him a quick nod and tight smile, "Very good."

The table was silent for a few moments and Roach was sure that they were going to be allowed to return to their own quiet conversation. That was until Makarov's voice cut through over the table, "King MacTavish, what do you think of Roach's outfit for the night, it is quite nice, isn't it?"

Roach had to admire the Prince's audacity. The man was an asshole and a creep, but he had quite a bit of nerve on him.

"Oh yes," the queen gave Roach a small smile, "he does look quite lovely, doesn't he?"

"Indeed," Soap responded, "As I told his mother earlier, I would find Roach quite lovely in anything he decides to wear. In fact, I'm sure that if he decided to go bare I would find him more than just lovely." The words made heat flood down Roach's spine and he could practically feel the horrified looks that the members of the table were giving Soap. He didn't care, the words made him feel warm under his skin and that was what mattered.

"That is-"

Soap was quick to cut Makarov off, fitting him with a calm smile as he stared him down from across the table, "I must request though, for future reference. Do please refrain from dressing my fiance in the color of your house. And chains." He tilted his head at Makarov, "I do understand that your family had expected Roach to join your house, but he is not. He is joining mine. Continuing to dress him as though he is yours is rather disrespectful, don't you think?"

Makarov gaped at him for a long moment before his face slowly twisted into a harsh glare and a deep-set look of hatred. "King MacTavish-"

The king cut his son off quickly, clearly trying to keep him from saying anything that he shouldn't. "While I agree that Makarov should not have sent Roach the outfit," the king gave a slight smile, "Roach did not have to wear the outfit if he did not want to."

Roach felt his heart sink into his chest at the words. Of course, they would figure out some way to deflect from the issue. With that logic, they could continue to send him things and force him to wear them with no issue. Because of course, it would look like it was his choice.

"My friend," Soap turned his attention to the king, "I have learned in my short time here that your kingdom has a great respect for your family. Your people do not wish to disrespect you in any way." He glanced at Roach briefly, "I am sure that Roach only wore the outfit because he feared upsetting your family. If it had come from anyone else, I am certain he would have thrown it out."

"Well," the king puffed up, "let's ask him. Roach, did you wish to wear this outfit for the night?"

The attention at the table fell to him and he found himself frozen for a moment. He could feel his mother's hand land on his leg and, even through his clothes, it felt icy cold. He knew what she wanted him to say. He knew that saying anything other than what she wanted would leave him in a harsh place when they returned home for the night.

Roach opened his mouth to speak. He prepared himself to fall into the normal lie to appease his mother. To appease the royals. Instead, his eyes caught onto Soap's encouraging gaze and, with a quick squeeze of their entwined hands, he found himself responding truthfully. "No, your majesty. I did not wish to wear it, but I also did not want to disrespect the time and money that went into the outfit. It is as Soap said, if it was from anyone else, I wouldn't have worn it."

There was a thick moment of silence. Roach's mother removed her hand from his leg and without looking at her he could feel the white-hot anger burning at his side.

"Ah," the king seemed almost shocked that he'd told the truth. It was clear he'd expected him to roll over as usual and allow Makarov to have his way with him. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I see. We shall refrain from allowing Makarov to send you any further gifts. And, of course, we apologize, King MacTavish, we meant no harm."

"No harm done," Soap assured, his eyes darting over to Makarov's quickly reddening face, "Believe me, I understand the desire to have Roach as your own."

With that, there was no more conversation within the group for the rest of the night.

The carriage ride back home after the banquet was quiet. Not just quiet, silent. No one dared to say a word and there was a thick tension that filled the air. Roach's brothers even seemed afraid of moving too much, wincing at any slight noise they made when the carriage seemed to jerk them slightly.

Roach, like he'd done on the ride there, kept his eyes locked firmly outside of the window the entire ride. He refused to look anywhere else, even as he could feel his mother's gaze burning into him. He knew that this silence wouldn't last forever. He didn't care. He felt happy for the moment.

He'd gotten a chance to spend more time with Soap and he would no longer have to worry about Makarov trying to force him into new outfits. It had shaped up to be probably the best banquet that Roach had attended in his life and he didn't intend to let his mother's anger ruin that for him.

When the carriage pulled to a stop outside of their estate, Roach took his sweet time stepping out. He wasn't going to rush into a fight, even as his mother sped ahead of him into the house, his father hot on her heels. He walked slowly, his brothers and sisters-in-law on either side of him.

"You know you're in for it, right?" Johnathan tucked Melissa closer to his side, "She's not going to let that go."

"I know," Roach responded, his head held high, "It doesn't matter. I'm tired of rolling over for her and doing things I'm not comfortable with. Especially now."

He let his brothers and sisters-in-law step into the house first, giving them time to rush off to their rooms to at least somewhat avoid the fight.

As soon as he stepped into the house, he could hear his mother's voice ranting loudly about Soap and about his behavior during the night. He didn't care much about her comments about him, but the few comments that he heard about Soap made him seethe. He couldn't believe she would so openly insult him like this.

He followed her voice further into the house until he reached the sitting room where she was ranting to his father who was quietly trying to calm her down, his words low enough that Roach couldn't hear them.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment before stepping into the room fully, drawing his mother's attention toward him.

"Gary Sanderson," She seethed, pushing away from his father and taking several harsh steps toward him. He held his ground and kept his head held high. "I hope you're proud of yourself young man!"

"I am," he answered quickly. His words only seemed to make her angrier.

"You received a gracious gift from the prince," she practically spat the words at his feet, "and you threw it in his face! I did not raise you to be so disrespectful to the royals!"

"Stop pretending it was a gift!" Roach snapped back, "Look at me! We both know what it was. We both knew what it was when you forced me to wear it!"

"Do not yell at me, young man!"

"That's all you have to say?" Roach gave a disbelieving laugh, "Acknowledge it, Mom! Acknowledge that you made me wear an outfit that was meant to stake a claim on me! One that was meant to send a message to my fiance!"

"So what if it was?" His mother hissed. Roach reeled away from her. He hadn't expected her to actually acknowledge what he said. It made his chest constrict. It made everything that he knew real, everything that he'd wanted to believe was his mother truly just being oblivious, he knew now.

"Caroline," his father hissed. He reached out to grab at her arm, but she was quick to shove him off and continue pressing forward.

"Your fiance is an improper joke of a king!" She took several steps toward Roach, "And the fact that you ever agreed to marry him in the first place tells me that I failed as your mother!"

"How dare you!" Roach took a measured step toward her, rage burning through his system like fire, "Soap is twice the man that Makarov is!"

"He wants you for what's between your legs and that's it!"

"You're wrong!"

"His comments tonight prove it!" She took another step forward and this time Roach stepped away from her, trying to return the distance between them that he'd lost. "He's a pervert and he's just using you! You don't think he has plenty of pretty men warming his bed and waiting for him back home? He's a barbarian!"

Tears rose to Roach's eyes and he continued backing away from his mother as he shot back, "You know who's a pervert? Makarov! Look at what I'm wearing, think of everything that he's done to me! Everything that I've told you about! Soap loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" Roach's back hit the wall and he found himself trapped, just as he'd been that day in his room, with Makarov physically pinning him to the wall. This time, though, it was his mother and her words that kept him in place. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. "He doesn't love you and you won't marry him! I'm putting my foot down on this Gary Sanderson! Makarov loves you, Makarov will take care of you, and you are going to marry him because he is the right choice!"

Roach shook his head, "I won't marry him, you can't make me. I'm marrying Soap, I know that he loves me and that's what matters."

"You will marry Makarov," his mother stood up tall and raised her chin, it was clear in her gaze that she was looking down at him, "You'll marry him or you'll no longer be a part of this family."

"Caroline!" His father's voice was the loudest that Roach had ever heard and the way it boomed around the room made both Roach and his mother jump. Their eyes were both wide as they stared at his face, twisted up into something angry. "That is enough. This is Roach's choice, not yours. Soap is a fine choice for him and if he wants to marry him, we will support him. Under no circumstances will he be kicked out of our family. He will always have a place with us."

"King MacTavish is-"

"A fine man," Roach's father stood up tall, "Who clearly loves our son and who is more than capable of taking care of him. A man who I approve of."

Roach gave a watery smile toward his father and he received a small nod in return. It wasn't much, but the movement spoke volumes.

"Fine," his mother turned toward him, "You'll still be a part of this family, but if you marry him? You won't be my son anymore. Because I did not raise you to be an easy whore who falls for men's traps like this."

Roach pushed himself off of the wall and stood up tall, tears still rolling down his cheeks as he leveled his mother with a face of calmness, "I hate you." It was her turn to reel away from him, taking a quick step back away from him at the words. "I hate you," he repeated, "And when I marry Soap, and when I leave with him to his kingdom, I want you to know that when I come back...if I come back, it won't be for you. I don't want anyone who would try to force me to marry a man like Makarov in my life. I don't want anyone who insists that he is the better choice for me in my life. I hate you and when I'm married? That's the last time that you will be privileged to be part of my life."

He gave her shocked face one last look before turning and leaving the sitting room. Silence lasted for only a few moments before the sound of wails broke through it. Roach didn't turn back.

"Hey," Roach pulled Jackson to a stop as the two approached one of the small event rooms in the castle.

He was dressed down for what he would normally wear to a courting date with Soap, something that had him feeling a bit self-conscious in his own skin. Still, he knew that it would have been silly for him to wear something nicer like he usually would. After all, the two would be dancing today and dancing was a bit of a workout at times. He didn't want to ruin one of his nicer outfits.

Even though his mother had turned her nose up at him when she saw what he was wearing, it was clear she didn't approve, he hadn't cared. He'd barely even acknowledged her since their fight days ago, instead directing all of his comments toward his father or his brothers.

He'd been worried that his father would attempt to make him patch things over with his mother. After all, the man usually took her side. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when his father ignored his mother's indignant huffs in favor of giving him a soft smile and telling him to have fun.

He tugged Jackson into a silent corner, his eyes darting nervously toward the door to the event room down the hall. He knew Soap was likely waiting for him inside. "Listen," he glanced back at Jackson, "I need to you promise me that you won't disappear today."

"What?" Jackson raised an eyebrow at him.

Roach gave a deep sigh, "Listen, I get it, you've started...whatever you've started with Gaz and Price, I get it. But I really need you to genuinely be my chaperone today. Okay? I'm serious."

"I don't understand," Jackson shook his head, "I mean time alone with Soap? Isn't that what you've been wanting."

"Today is different." Roach shot another look down the hall, "Listen, we're in the castle today and you know the dance that Soap and I are practicing. I wouldn't put it past Makarov to try and come into the room and say he caught Soap and I doing something inappropriate. If you aren't there when he comes in?" His voice went a bit panicked. He didn't want to think about what sort of scheme Makarov could pull off if he managed to catch them in a situation like that. "So I'm serious, I need you to promise me that you won't sneak off!"

"Okay, okay," Jackson held his hands up in surrender and nodded his head quickly, "I promise, okay? I'll be the best chaperone out there!"

Roach gave a sigh of relief and wrapped his arm around Jackson's starting them down the hallway, "Thank you."

"You seem on edge," Jackson spoke carefully as they neared the door to the room, "Everything alright?"

"Honestly," Roach turned to him as they stopped in front of the door, "Not really. But I don't want to talk about it right now. It's...it's complicated."

He pushed the door to the room open and, with a simple sight of Soap, any of the stress that was being held in his body seemed to fade away. He allowed himself to move quickly toward Soap, leaving Jackson to close the door behind them.

He was quick to wrap Soap in a hug and tug him down for a short kiss.

"Hey, hey, hey! Distance, distance!" Roach pulled away from Soap and turned to raise a quick eyebrow toward Jackson. "What? You told me to be an actual chaperone today."

Roach rolled his eyes before turning back to Soap, a small smile on his face. "My love," he took Soap's hands in his own and he could practically see the way that the man melted at his touch. It made his heart flutter in his chest. Soap loved him. He knew that.

Soap was fairly quick to recover, bringing their joined hands up to kiss Roach's wrists as he usually did. "My love," Roach felt warm again, "I am yours today. Teach me what I need to know."

Roach gave him a bright grin and darted up to give a quick peck on his cheek. "So," Roach dropped his things down to the floor quickly before dragging Soap with him closer to the center of the room, "The dance happens before we feast, but after the toasts. It's meant to represent our bond and tells the story of the lovers who founded our kingdom. A warrior and the noblewoman he fell in love with."

He took Soap's hands in his own and guided him over to one side of the room. "Alright, stay here." Quickly, he rushed to the other side of the room before turning to face Soap. "So, we start on opposite sides to show our distance prior to our marriage. do the same thing that I do."

He took a careful step forward and Soap mirrored his movement. He moved carefully forward in several small steps, watching carefully as Soap mimicked his movements until they both met in the middle of the room. "This seems easy so far," Soap gave him a small flash of a smile and Roach couldn't help but return it.

"I promise there's nothing hard in the dance." He reached out with a grin, grabbing Soap's hands to tug them to his waist. "I think you'll like this part," the words pulled a heated blush to his face and a raised eyebrow from Soap.

He stepped closer to Soap, moving until their bodies were pressed tight up against one another. Soap's eyes widened at the movement and Roach resisted the urge to laugh over the way that his face seemed to slowly be going pink.

Soap kept his hands firmly on Roach's hips, something that Roach was quick to fix as he pulled Soap's arms around his waist and encouraged him to relax until his arms were practically hanging over his hips, his hands dropped into a relaxed position over his ass.

"I," Soap cleared his throat as he looked down at Roach, "I suddenly understand why the Queen mentioned the importance of chaperones."

Roach couldn't help the small laugh that escaped his lips at those words. A buzz formed under his skin, slowly spreading around his body. It seemed to pool with warmth inside of him. "Why is that?" He moved through the next part of the dance, guiding Soap to help him turn in his arms until his backside was pressed tight to Soap's front instead. "Feeling tempted?" He moved Soap's hands to just skate up his body before wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"By you?" Soap spoke lowly, his mouth pressed just up against Roach's ear, "Always."

Roach couldn't stop the shiver that pulled up his body at the words and, based on the way that Soap's hands clenched tight against his skin, the other man had noticed it.

He tried to keep himself focused, even when the buzzing under his skin only seemed to grow stronger and stronger the longer that he stayed pressed up against Soap.

"This next part is simple," Roach cleared his throat nervously, "Just take one of my hands and we spin out." They followed his instructions, spinning him out until they were standing beside one another, the only thing connecting them were their hands. "Good, now bring me in like you would for a normal ballroom dance."

Soap paused for a long moment and it only took a second for Roach to realize that the man had no idea what he was talking about. "Like this," he tugged himself closer, moving back close to Soap's body so that they were facing each other. He guided Soap's free hand to his waist. "It's simple, we lead with these hands," he tilted his head toward their interconnected hands and set his free hand on Soap's shoulder.

He took a moment to give Soap a bright smile before slowly starting to guide them across the floor in careful movements. He made sure to go slow, allowing Soap to pick up the rhythm of the movement. He was quite impressed with how well the other seemed to pick up on it, something he wasn't afraid to voice.

"You're very good at this," he gave Soap a bright grin.

"Yeah," Soap chuckled and returned his smile with one of his own, "It's not very different from fighting if I'm being honest. The timing and patterns, it's similar in an odd way."

"Well," Roach pulled them closer to one another, signaling the end of the ballroom portion of the dance, "You must be an excellent fighter then."

Soap gave a low chuckle, "You have no idea, my love."

"That portion represented our courting," Roach explained after a moment, "This last bit is our marriage." He pulled Soap closer and tried to fight off the blush that rose to his face, "It's a bit more... hands-on."

"I enjoy hands-on," Soap responded lowly, his eyes completely focused on Roach and Roach alone. It did nothing but keep the heat in his gut burning hot.

"So, um," Roach moved out like they'd done earlier, spinning until they stood beside each other, with only their hands connecting them, "now, you kiss my hand." Soap did as he was told. "Then you trail the kisses up my arm, pulling me closer as you do."

Soap gave him a soft look and maintained eye contact with him as he leaned down to press a slow and careful kiss on his arm. Then another. And another. And another. He did as Roach told him, slowly guiding him closer to kiss further and further up his arm until, finally, Roach once again had his backside pressed close to Soap's front.

"And now?" Soap asked him in a low whisper.

"Now," Roach glanced down at his lips briefly before meeting Soap's eyes again, "Now we kiss as husbands."

There was a moment of pause before Soap leaned forward to connect their lips. It was a slow thing, just the soft press of lips together, moving in sync. Roach was the one to press closer, desperate for more as the feeling of warmth in his body grew stronger. He hesitantly licked at Soap's lips and gave a pleased little noise when the man parted his lips for him.

From there the kiss grew in intensity. Growing quicker and sloppier as their tongues tangled together, exploring the other's mouth. Soap wrapped an arm around Roach's waist, pulling him back into him further. Their bodies pressed together tightly and Roach could feel the outline of the man behind him pressed against his leg. After a long moment of consideration as they kissed, he gave into his desires and rocked back against the man.

Soap pulled away just slightly with a small hiss, "Fuck." He connected their lips again harshly, his free hand moving to begin skating over Roach's body, feeling along his chest. Roach couldn't help but gasp against Soap's mouth as the man's hand just skated over one of his nipples, brushing over it through the thing fabric of his shirt.

They were lost in each other, engaged in a slow and distracting push and pull that seemed to grow in intensity with every moment. Roach's skin was flush and he felt all too hot under his clothes. He wanted Soap's hand to move lower, he wanted it to slip under the waistband of his pants, he wanted the man to-

A horrified gasp caught Roach's attention and suddenly everything came rushing back to him. He remembered where he was and pulled away from Soap quickly, horror already filling his veins as he turned to spot two unwanted guests watching him and Soap with wide eyes.

Roach was quick to push away from Soap, quickly putting distance between them and folding his hands behind his back with desperate gasps of air. His breathing was heavy as he diverted his gaze to the ground, his head lowered with it. This was not good.

"Your majesties," he acknowledged weakly, his voice nothing more than a horrified whisper.

"Makarov," the queen spoke in a low and harsh voice, "send one of the servants to the Sanderson residence immediately."

Even without looking at him, Roach could hear the smirk in Makarov's voice as he responded with a simple, "Yes, Mother."

"Gary Sanderson. King MacTavish, come to the sitting room to wait with me. This is an issue that must be resolved." Roach let his eyes close with dread. This was not good.

Roach was sat tensely on one of the settees in the little sitting room, staring straight ahead. He tried his best not to think about the man sitting next to him. He tried his best not to think about the fact that Soap was standing across the room, kept there by the queen's harsh glare any time he moved.

Jackson and Price stumbled into the room after a few moments and Roach allowed his eyes to turn toward them. He met the horrified wide-eyed look from Jackson as the queen snorted, "Ah, there are the so-called chaperones!"

Jackson was quick to rush across the room to kneel down next to Roach on the ground, his hands landing on Roach's leg. "Roach," he spoke quietly, his voice lowered enough that only Roach could hear him, "I am so sorry."

"I asked you to do one thing for me," Roach met his eyes carefully, "One thing."

With that, he looked away from his friend and went back to staring carefully into space, trying to block out the sounds from around him. Despite his words, Jackson didn't move, he just stayed kneeling on the floor by his side.

It was only a few minutes after that Roach's family along with the king flooded into the room, led by his mother. He stood when they arrived, quickly taking the opportunity to move away from Makarov and instead tuck himself close to his father's side.

"Ah, excellent, you're here." The queen stepped toward his mother and took her hands in her own, "I dread to inform you of what has happened Caroline."

"It was not anything," Soap spoke carefully from his side of the room, Price at his side, "Certainly nothing the people in this room have to worry about."

The queen turned quickly toward him, "My son and I happened across the room where you and Roach were and we found you with no chaperones in the room and you attempting to taint dear Roach's character."

"We were kissing," Soap said blankly, "He's to be my husband, am I not permitted to kiss the man who will soon be mine?"

"No," Roach's mother glared at him harshly, "You are not! Not until you are married. I know your kingdom might be," she lifted her nose to him, "looser than ours, but Roach is one of us and he must follow our customs."

"Do none of my customs get taken into consideration," Soap shot back quickly. "What if it is customary to kiss and be close to your partner before you are married? Would that not be permitted? Would I be forced, once again, to give in to your ridiculous standards of purity?"

"If you can show no concern for the customs of my son and our people," his mother glared harshly at Soap, "Then perhaps you should not be marrying him. In fact, after this little stunt, I'd like to call this entire wedding off!"

"That is not your choice," Soap answered simply, his face hard.

"He is my son!"

"I am not," Roach spoke quietly, but his voice cut through the room and brought his mother's attention toward him. "Do you not remember what you said, Mother? We decided, didn't we? I'm not your son anymore."

"Roach," his mother hissed, "he forced this on you! What if he had-"

He ignored her warning look to instead look around the room, "I was the one who kissed him." He stood taller, facing the shocked looks from his family and the royals as he continued the lie, "I was the one who initiated the kiss. I am the degenerate who wished to be closer to my fiance before we are married."

"He is lying," his mother whipped around to glare at Soap again, "To try and protect you!"

"Lady Sanderson," Roach felt himself go cold as the attention of the room fell to the calm voice of the Prince, "I believe Roach. I believe that he initiated the kiss." Roach didn't like this. There was no reason for Makarov to be agreeing with him, why was he agreeing with him? "It is understandable, a natural step for a couple. I believe the failure is not with King MacTavish or Roach, but instead," he turned his head just slightly to look toward Jackson, "with their chaperones."

"He is right," the Queen agreed quickly. Roach realized with a terrible sense of clarity where the conversation was going. "It was not the fault of Roach or the king. Nothing would have happened if their chaperones were there to keep them in line."

"I propose," Makarov stood from his seat and folded his hands behind his back, "a change in chaperones. I am sure Paul and MacTavish's man have only the best interest of their friends at heart, but it is clear they are distracted."

"Yes," his mother nodded her head slowly, a glint in her eyes telling Roach that she understood what was happening, Roach wanted to scream. This wasn't happening, it couldn't happen. "I agree."

"I should take the position of Roach's chaperone," Makarov gave a careful smile. "King MacTavish may choose someone new from his own men and the two men will have fresh eyes to watch over them."

"You are a fine choice," Roach's mother agreed quickly.

"Of course," Makarov turned his head to meet Roach's eyes a terrible glint in them, "After all, I only have Roach's best interests at heart."

#gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #call of duty #soap x roach #soaproach #call of duty fanfic #vladimir makarov #paul jackson cod #paul jackson #captain john price #captain price #letters to love #fantasy au #soap cod #roach cod

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sickoftulip · 13 days

Text

Update

This is not a post I’d thought we’d have to make, but unfortunately it seems like the more we learn about Tulip behind the scenes, the worse he gets. On April 2nd of 2024, Tulip seemed to be explaining the reason HM went to shit.

Let’s start with the basics. Angel (or Celeste) (and by extension the one that had the r slur repeated three times in a row to them) was not the one that started the Tomb drama. You know this because you were told and shown how it started and when it started. You would’ve needed this information to give to the person who made a “callout” on Tomb (and that callout didn’t even include that information so… lmao). (Also please don’t go harass Tomb, the situation is done and over with.)

Addressing the second screenshot now, this is just… wow. Starting off with Tulip sharing Celeste’s tumblr, shi made it VERY obvious that shi didn’t want hir tumblr shared due to its paranoia caused by STPD. You were AWARE of this and still chose to do it anyways (and without its permission). Of course it got “SOOOOO mad” at you. You broke one of hir boundaries. As for the “sexting” part… this is gonna take a bit. While the message is worded oddly, what Tulip is trying to say is that Celeste made a bot of its fp and is… apparently “sexting” with it. What Celeste does in private isn’t your business and it is absolutely gross to air out hir private business to random people and then to also imply/state gross things that you don’t know are true. There was no “maybe” or “I think” or anything like that. This was shared as if it was definitive. Also, throwing around the term “sexting” is… certainly a choice. Sexting is described as “sending sexually explicit messages via electronic device” (from axis.org). Either Tulip doesn’t understand the implications that come with that word (which is unlikely) or… he just doesn’t care about wording things properly and giving the right context. Whatever the case may be, this is just gross in general.

As for the last screenshot, Tulip and his associates can’t seem to keep Celeste’s name out of their mouths, nor can they keep Charlie’s (Danny in the screenshot) name out of their mouths. It’s not that important, which is why there’s not much to say about it.

This is what they’ve been doing instead of actually attempting to disprove the claims made against them or anything of the sorts. Fun!

#angelwowwings #creepypasta #ticci toby #clockwork #clockwork x ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #okay so #yeah

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harry-sussex · 11 months

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I haven't been following so closely, can you update me on what the deal is with Harry and Megan? Like a quick rundown please.

I’m not on my computer right now but I will absolutely give you the rundown in better detail once I get to my laptop. Basically:

2016 - meet, first date, get into a relationship

2017 - Harry writes a statement calling out the press for how they were treating Meghan, Harry and Meghan get engaged

2018-2019 - they get married in May 2018, they do the royal thing, Meghan gets pregnant in summer 2018, Archie is born in 2019

Late 2019 - they take an extended break at the end of the year and stay in Canada, not performing any royal duties

January 8, 2020 - they announce that they want a half-in, half-out approach to working for the family, splitting their time between royal work and commercial work and also between California and the UK. The world immediately loses its shit. They never told Queen Elizabeth about the statement. Shit completely hits the fan - you can’t work as a member of the royal family and have commercial, for-profit endeavors on the side. That’s just the tip of the iceberg - what an absolute shitshow.

March 2020 - they do their last royal engagement

Rest of 2020 - relatively quiet (except not really, but compared to now, they were radio silent), Meghan gets pregnant in late summer

2021 - Oprah interview (“airing their truth,” “silenced, not silent”), Lili is born

2021-present - nothing but an absolute shitshow in which they keep trying to “air their truth” with conflicting statements. Lawsuit after lawsuit after lawsuit, podcasts, memoir(s), statements, interviews, late night tv, generally digging themselves in a bigger and bigger and bigger hole by wanting to be separate from the royal family while simultaneously reaping the benefits of being associated with them. Lack of accountability. An absolute rabbit hole of paranoia, desperation, delusion. It’s as bad as it sounds, if not worse. It’s a shitshow and it only gets worse with each passing day. It’s so sad. I could give a better rundown here, but this is the gist of how it has been - they have not let it rest in more than 3 years. It only gets worse. Harry in particular has completely lost it and rock bottom doesn’t seem too far away - it gets closer and closer every day, it seems. Surviving, definitely not thriving.

I could keep going - I could write a book, tbh. But those are the highlights.

#ask

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doomh3ad · 2 years

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Can I request a trickster (dead by daylight )x male reader nsfw one-shot of a reader who’s really cocky and flirty? Kinda like trickster puts them in their place but in a fun way (wink wink) LMAO ok I’m sorry if this is complicated 😭

omg i thought i posted this i am so sorry this took so long its been in my queue for days 😭 apologies for my lack of dbd knowledge

You're no stranger to the Entity's realm, but something feels...different, today. Almost like a crackle of electricity, the feeling in the air is tangible and charged with something metallic.

Something is going to happen this time. It goes as usual, avoiding killers, helping your fellow survivors and trying to find the hatch. It's routine by this point, standard. And yet, you can't help but look over your shoulder. It's not paranoia, it's something else. It's like an itch you're unable to scratch, like a premonition; today will be unlike the other trials.

Sure enough, you're fixing a generator when you see him. But it's too late to act.

Piercing eyes find yours as that vicious bat journeys down your body. You've watched that flurry of knives shred other survivors, but the bat is somehow more frightening. As is his smirk as he flips the power dynamic. Suddenly, you're at his mercy. Fighting is no good, he'll win.

"I'll turn you into a star, just like me, handsome," he promises you. "Just need to show you who's in control."

And if it was anyone else in the trial, you think they would've crumbled. But you're you. Undaunted, stubborn you. The you who's the only one left, it seems.

He saved you for last. Why? Isn't it time to hook you, relish in his victory?

"I want to hear that voice of yours, telling me who's in control. Come on."

Still, you refuse. And pain is your reward, but you still have your dignity.

"You know what I've done? You think I won't do worse to you? Come on, now."

Like he expected, like he was waiting for, you break. In your place, finally.

Victory is even sweeter than the taste of your blood on his lips as prepares to show you exactly who runs this game.

#horror #imelda's writing #slasher x reader #slasher #dbd #dead by daylight #the trickster x reader #the trickster dbd #the trickster x male reader

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themediamercenary · 19 days

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Pulse

Pulse is a thought-provoking J-horror film that could not be more relevant right now. In fact, I might just enjoy it more than Ringu. It showcases the sinister consequences of the internet on alienation and suicide. This almost feels too sinister in a time now where people are more depressed than ever and addicted to their phones. So what happens when the internet is littered with ghostly forces of nature? The film answers that question nicely. It’s nonstop panic and tension that’ll leave you fearing your next FaceTime. We get on FaceTime and trust what’s on the other end which is exactly why the fear and paranoia present here is disturbing. What happens when you can’t trust what’s on the other end? What if it’s collecting information on you so that could it could bring your demise? All the questions are essential and forward thinking for when the film was released. It might even be a film out of its time. After all, back then people weren’t using the internet like we do now. It was a tool for accumulating information in a pinch. Now it’s connected to the devices we own; those devices are engrained in our veins. With this is in mind, I wonder how much worse the film’s apocalypse would’ve been if it was set in the present.

That’s why the screens present throughout the film are horrifying. The ghosts move as if they’re splitting time. This makes way to constant horror as their relentlessly hidden pursuit entails that anyone could bite the dust. JPEG-like effects also enhance their mannerisms almost as if the internet is fueling their power. Humans are reduced to data, and data that is being used to actively prey and target them. The sheer thought of it is scarier than any horror film villain. If humanity technological advances can bring our downfall, then the film suggests that humans are playing with God-like powers that aren’t safe for the general public. Unfortunately, the inclusion of technology is so prevalent nowadays that we are almost powerless against it if it chooses to turn against us. The film’s apocalypse was a little too goofy. You really expect to believe they can’t found on a boat while planes are hilariously crashing in the air. Still, the ashy leftovers are terrifying and solidify the terror of the situation. The film leaves us with two people alive, and their fates don’t look so convincing.

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sugarakis-p2 · 2 years

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Big Shiggy Daddy ch7

Moth Shigaraki is such a good daddy (yes he is an actual father to a trap daughter), but a mean yandere, even though you are his favorite darling.

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Hawks wants you to be his good baby chick and be quiet when he takes you to the Doctor's. It may be your only chance to run.

Shigaraki suspects there is a traitor but Chouka is more interested in having her mommy back. Shigaraki sets aside his paranoia to be a good daddy. He uses his human counterpart to implement the LOV's stupid plan.

Warning: Yandere Moth Shigaraki, non/con, kidnapping, death threats, somnophilia, NSFW, cussing, incel rat

Ch6

Chapter 7:

Shigaraki was not expecting the high-pitched enraged tantrum that exploded his way when he told Chouka mommy would be gone for a few days.

"LLLLLIIIIIARRR! You lie!" she screeched. Chouka yanked clumps of her hair out. They fell to the floor, a strange contrast to the pink room.

"I'm not lying. Quit hurting yourself. She won't be home for a while. But we," Shigaraki was patiently saying when Chouka snarled at him.

"I told you something bad would happen!" Chouka shouted, then all communication ceased as she shrilly roared. The protection spells he felt etched in his skin began to burn. He Grabbed Haco and locked the door of the room behind them. Even the crag rat fled from her wrath.

She was his daughter. No doubt about it. He would be proud of that rage if she didn't set her sites on him.

He went to check on the crystals in the forbidden room. They are holding strong. Thank the gods for small miracles. Because apparently, Chouka was tearing up her room in a fury. With magic strong enough to change time and space, she could erase him and herself from existence without these safeguards. Haco stared wide-eyed at the shaking door. The brat shoots him an unconvinced look as if this is his fault.

"Wipe that smug look off your face. I have news for you this is what all women are like," Shigaraki informed Haco.

"True that, brother," Mr. Chew squeaked.

"Only when you lose them," Haco retorted.

"That's rich coming from a Beta male like you, bro," Mr. Chew responded like the alpha he was. After all, Chouka liked him waaay better than this fiery little brat.

Shigaraki pointed to the disgusting rat.

"That protected her better than you, little boy. You want to impress my little girl, then be helpful for a change. Help find her mother and go gather ingredients," Shigaraki snarls.

"I know how to make my girlfriend happy," Haco huffed as Shigaraki walked away.

"Whoa, make no mistake, you are only Chouka's plan b. Like in beta cuck. When it came time to protect the little goddess, it was all this alpha this guy gets it," Mr. Chew chuckles and points at Shigaraki's retreating form.

But of course, no one can hear him. Lightfoot is now calling himself Mr. Chew because the little goddess named him it. He is starting to miss the dumb cunt who understood him. She always appreciated his wicked burns. His little goddess was upset the dumb twat was gone. Like a good Alpha, he needs to make his goddess happy.

These assholes can't understand him when he told them it was some bird creature that took the stupid yappy woman away. He can smell it in the air. Shigaraki, who is generally on it, doesn't recognize its scent, but Mr. Chew does. As much as it will crush his little goddess to lose his much-needed comfort, he will find the talker. In the arguments over gathering females for an exchange, Mr. Chew slips out unnoticed.

You are not having a better time.

Hawk is all over the place with his emotions. He asks so many questions. He gathers a bunch of different things in an endeavor to please you, which is just bizarre while you are being bound and gagged for sixty percent of the day.

"I would like not to be shoved back in a sack today," you huff.

"Females are desperately coveted. Normally sensible knights would slaughter each other over you. The sack is needed. I have to bring you in front of the board and tell them what I have done … soon," he says.

"Soon?" you ask. You get a rare glimpse of the real him, and it is terrifying.

"It wouldn't have to be at all if you choose me. Tell me you want to be with me, and I will keep you hidden and happy," he demands. He has a hungry gleam in his eyes. You have to be so careful with this monster. You never considered that Shigaraki would be the least scary fucker you met in this world.

"You are so sweet. But Shigaraki is dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt over me. Besides, I'm old. Can't even have babies anymore. Trading me in will get you a pretty girl your age. Breeding age," you tell him.

He is painfully quick. Gripping your face in his tight grasp, the tip of his fingers dig into your jaw, and his yellow eyes bore into yours.

"Don't bother pretending you care about my desires. I want the authentic you. I want to taste your real yearning again. You do bring up a good point. Can't keep you if you are infertile. You are of perfect breeding age as far as I'm concerned, but it's not all about me. Doubt you will be good to trade if Shigaraki knows you can't produce. Quite the conundrum for me," he says.

Hawks is rubbing that stupid chin hair in contemplation. You wish you could yank it off. His eyes shoot to you, and that stupid smile is back. He has made a decision. Smiling, he demands you get back in the sack, or he would be brutal about it. You squeak, wriggling to do as he asks because he hasn't hesitated to smack or lightly cut you if you so much as looked like you were about to argue. He knew how to cause mind-blowing pain with little effort.

"I will take you to someone that can fix you. Be a good little chick and stay quiet. Don't open your mouth unless I tell you to. If you so much as breathe too loud, I'll drop you until you are a broken mess. Another conundrum, I might be tempted to do it anyways to keep the others from touching you," he grins, closing the sack. You push down your panic because he will absolutely hurt you for breathing too hard. He hefts you with a grunt of irritation.

"Sometimes I wish you were not such a good girl like before," he says as the wind cuts right through the bag.

"I already contacted the Heroes. They are stalling. In the meantime, if I could just get this device to work. Over in the other world, we will be able to tell if we can at least grab a couple of hundred females," Mr. compress says, fiddling with the phone. Using a magic circle to force a signal to the other world. It fails spectacularly.

"Still doesn't solve the issue of transportation even if that worked," Shigaraki growls.

“Such a naysayer,” Toga says.

"This will give us an idea of how many females we can grab get if we can get it to work," Dabi reiterates for the thousandth time. Shigaraki doesn't want to do it, so he is digging in his heels, holding out hope for when he hears back from the other side. Drinking and becoming more stubborn. He is powerful enough to puncture through to the other side but is making excuses not to.

"Chouka can do it. She knows the technology too," Compress suggests.

"The protections have been damaged, and I would never let anyone use my daughter. Do we understand each other?" Shigaraki snarls. Dabi subtly intervenes.

"Those heroes crossed a line. This is an act of war," Dabi says when Shigaraki whirls on him.

"This wasn't them! There's a traitor among us," he roars. They stare at him in shocked silence, "The more I think about it, the more confused I am. Both my girls are unregistered. Only the school knows about my daughter. Only the people in this room know about my mate. Know where I live and how to get past my security. Someone must have talked."

"Yeah, it was you," Haco snorts, "You have been flying all over town buying junk. Either you have some new weird kinks or you have a woman and child. As for your security, anyone with wings can get past them."

Shigaraki wanted to rip him apart, but Chouka is there clinging to the boy, and when he thinks about it; that could be true.

"We better get in gear because if the other side does have her, it won't be long before they figure out she's not of this world. Once that happens, they will demand for more than three hundred women. I wouldn't be surprised if a war broke out in a few years' time," Compress cuts the tension.

"I'm ready to help. I will be a good girl if it helps find mommy. It was all my fault," Chouka sniveled. Shigaraki growls and gathers Chouka up in his arms. Reassuring it was never her fault. It's whoever took her. He will be a good daddy and find mommy.

"You don't need to help or worry. I will take care of it," Shigaraki rasped.

"But Mr. Compress doesn't know how to use a cell phone. Do you know how?" Chouka said.

"No. He can learn to use it himself. I will take the price of using the magic," Shigaraki reassured.

"How about Twice and I show you our newest play?" Toga offers.

"Can we play tea party too?" Chouka asked.

"Absolutely," Toga says, walking back to the room with her. Shigaraki shoots the little shit Haco a death stare. He might be right but saying that made Chouka feel it was her fault.

"Hand me the damn phone. I will fix this," He snarls. Pulling out the flyer, memorizing it in case he gets a little lost. He knows how to get this done without risking himself too much. All magic comes at a price, but possession is one of the many secret abilities that didn't cost him as much.

His Sensei gave him many practical abilities like it. If he opens a portal and reaches in, the cost to his people will be minor. He would never confess this, but having a physical connection to the other world was best. Since his mate and child are here, he must do the disgusting. Seek out his human self.

Reaching out with his magic, he remembers. The first time he had you. Legs spread and all his. His long tongue runs from your knee up to your sweet valley. His skilled tongue taking a timid taste before, he pulls back to look at your glistening pussy, savoring the heady bitter-sweet flavor. The pure scent is all you and lured him in the first place. You smelled like desire as if you ached for him as he ached for you.

He couldn't resist. He wants to remember everything for a thousand years. His feelers are waving over your lusty body, constantly monitoring for the slightest hint of waking up. The door between the worlds painfully opens.

His scalp feels peeled back like an orange. His mind flayed with a dull knife. Shigaraki stretches his control further. Touching his human self, forcing his shut third eye open.

He snakes his tongue back in your wet hole, sucking as much of you into his mouth, kissing your lips in the most intimate french kiss he could imagine. His long tongue plunged deeper into your depths. Until he can feel another hole in the back that makes you groan and squirm when he gently tastes you. You moan and buck your hip on his mouth. He darts his long tongue in and out of you. Drinking and swallowing every drop with lewd-smacking sounds filling the air.

His claws dig into his counterpart's mind.

You are fucking his face, your soft walls fluttering on his tongue as he dips his tongue deeper. He pulls away abruptly, leaving you mewling and dripping wet. A thrilling tingle travels down his spine to his core, hearing you whine for him to be back inside you. He grabs your panties and wipes his mouth with the crotch. Proud of the wetness you had just made for him. His chapped lips moistened; he started to kiss his way up to your center.

Primal Moth Shigaraki settles at the back of the human mind.

Human Shigaraki wakes with a start. He was having a pleasant dream about eating a pretty lady's pussy as an insect monster. It has him hard and considering a few prostitutes. He snorts at himself. No way would he eat a whore's pussy, but that pretty lady in his dream didn't seem like a pro. He was tired of the skanks, and the citizens cried too much. But that one was a perfect balance. He thinks about it, stroking himself a little. It felt real. He believes he can kind of taste pussy on his tongue. He closes his eyes and drifts back to that sweet dream.

Gliding his claws up your sides, pushing up your shirt, he kisses and nuzzles the warm flesh of your chest. The light prickles of his claws make you giggle lightly in your sleep. Kneading your breasts, smothering himself in your scent, running his thumbs over your hardening nipples.

That's right. This is fun, isn't it? Pick up your phone. Let's have a little more fun. He encourages his human self to allow him use of his hands. The trick is teasing the mind into thinking this is what it wants. His other self is a horny high tensioned mess. It was easy. He took over the motor skills while keeping the mind occupied with that sweet memory. His human self relaxes and eases into the memory.

His wings vibrate as he captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking eagerly with a pathetic moan. You suck in a breath, your eyes fluttering, and he freezes. His premonitions have never been wrong, yet he can sense you waking. His heart racing, the excitement of almost being caught has him leaking. You screaming and squirming under him could be fun.

His Mothman self agrees. He lets his human self have free rein. He searches, rooting around his human self's mind and finding the information that he needs.

"Kitty, soft kitty," you mumble, running your fingers in his fur. The sensation is making his internal cock and balls ache with desire. Your nails are grazing his skin deep in his coat, sending shudders through his core. Cock fully unsheathed, throbbing with his increasing pulse leaking pre-cum.

He takes a picture of the flyer and sends it to the proper parties. He is annoyed this isn't going faster. The human self is getting heated quickly. He mentally shakes his head. His human self has no patience.

You moan as pearls drip on your waiting hole. He wants it. He is getting so eager he roughly parts your legs wide for him. He doesn't care if you wake. Lining himself up to your slutty hole, he thrusts himself in at once. Your tight walls are drooling and sucking him in. He keeps his fur in your face, his scent close to you as you pet the kitty.

But your eyes shoot open and see he is no kitty. He clamps his hand over your mouth. Your screams against his palm are hot. Your violent struggles to push him out and off feel amazing. Setting all his nerves on fire with pleasure.

Fuck, it's getting harder to control this body with such a wonderful distraction playing out in the back of this mind.

"Shut up. These things on my head are sensitive to smells and sounds. I can make this hurt more with this big dick," he snarls. Your eyes glisten with tears. He bucks his hips hard. You struggle, trying to bite his hand.

Moth Shigaraki has finally gotten a reply.

He gives three sharp chirps when he has bottomed out, your tightness pulling against him as he thrusts. Your muffled moans hitch as he pounds into you. Your struggles stop as you stare at him with wide-eyed fear.

"You are so tight. Are you a little virgin?" He asks. He removes his hand briefly enough for you to answer.

"If you want me to be," you snivel. He covers your mouth again and takes a deep whiff of your fear. You shiver under him, and he gives you a shark's smile.

"Good answer. I like you," he chuckles. Your nails are digging into his pecks. He can feel you lightly fucking him back, hips rolling, helping him grind deeper. Kissing your cervix. Your legs kick out in a feeble attempt to struggle from him. Your wriggles only arch you more up into him. He half knots at the sensation of your hip connecting.

"Yeeesssss, you like that, don't you?" he hisses in your ear. You shake your head and scream, digging your heels in the bed. Hitting his chest as he laughs at your efforts. He is close to shoving his knot in you. When it's full and inflated, it's as thick as his fist. His wings are beating loudly, the vibrations titillating your slick walls, his wings pushing him deeper. He is so close. Your pussy grips him perfectly. He groans as he pulls most of the way out of you. Only to drive himself so deep his knot inflates instantly with a feral snarl, "Liar! I can tell by the way you feel against me. I can sense it. Your little body is much more honest."

The sudden full stretch causes your orgasm to cascade, tightening like a vice around his knot, pulling a primal growl from deep within him. You're muttering as you moan and arch. He creates a purring rumble in his chest. Waves of bliss make it hard to think when he lifts his hand. Your poor face was bruised with a handprint. You look so beautiful, ravished, and limp.

Your silken hair fanned out, tangled, and mussed up from his fucking. Your chest is heaving and jiggling provocatively. He kisses those soft, bruised lips roughly. His Moth self might get stuck here if he doesn't pull away from his doppelganger now. He quickly erases all the activity he has on his phone. You're pulsating spasms are milking every drop into your waiting womb. It feels like you are pulling straight from his taut sack. He pants as you gasp in his ruff, your hot breath fanning over his raw and tender skin. Shudders tingle down his spine to his middle.

"You are a monster," you sob. The sad waver in your voice makes his cock twitch in you. He shrugged. That was not the first time he had been called that. He lifts to see where you are connected. He has a lot more scars and bite marks. Your legs are shaking, and your toes curled. He's not done with you not by a long shot.

"Yes, but you liked it. The fur on my groin is wet and matted with your juices. Damn, why can't I pull out? Uh, fuck, that feels good. Did my cock knot? That wasn't my thing until now. I've never been happier, and I've had a string of professionals. I get to do this again soon. For most of your lifetime," he laughs. He doesn't know how he knows this, but the human is tapping into his feral instincts. He wants to breed and fight. Moth Shigaraki wretches himself away.

"Jason! He came all over me," Spinner whined.

"Quit bitching. You know you like it, lizard," Dabi replied. Shigaraki is panting, struggling for air. He wipes the blood and froth from his mouth, "Hey, I think he's in control again."

Shigaraki shoves them off him. He looks down to see he has clawed himself open on his chest. A puddle of cum soaking the front of his pants, dipping down to his knees. His head felt split open. Reaching up, he winces and pulls his fingers away with more blood. Looking around, it looks like a disaster zone.

"Human me goes all out," he rasped. He was confused about how his human counterpart was able to manipulate and tap into things he wasn't supposed to. He never paid much attention to his doppelganger. He viewed him as an inferior product to himself and to be avoided. If the two ever physically met, who knows what kind of disaster could befall both worlds.

"We thought you might be trying to kill yourself. You slammed your head so hard on the table you smashed it and all these mugs of coffee. You have been catatonic and twitching for hours," Spinner huffed with big concerned eyes. Shigaraki patted him on the shoulder in reassurance.

"You did it!" Compress shouts in glee. Showed everyone the cell in excitement. Flood of messages. Compress pulls out a heal potion for Shigaraki, "What is an events planner?"

"It's what we need to set up the event. At least that's what my doppelganger thinks," Shigaraki felt a little woozy when he read the text.

Dear Mr. Shimura.

I can't! I just can't express how excited I am to work with you on this event. I was blinded by the brilliance. I can honestly say I have never seen anything this exciting cross my desk in my twenty-three years in this industry. Based on this absolute success, we might even be able to turn this into an annual festival. Here is the breakdown of the cost. I already have an excellent working relationship with Hosu. The moment you wire me the deposit of thirty million yen along with the signed contract, this could be one of the largest matchmaker singles lady events in the nation's history. I can promise you much more than six hundred patrons with all the free offers. Can I add that I am spiritually moved? I believe in your cause. Love is a beautiful message. I, too, also share your concerns about our plummeting birth rate.

Thank you for choosing Pinkipie party extravaganza event planning co.

CEO Mr. Watanabe xxxxxx

"How do you pronounce all those exes?" Spinner asked.

"It doesn't matter. I already dedicate half our treasury to this, and this amount is nothing. A promise of more than six hundred! What's a Hosu?" Compress asked, shaking with delight.

"It's a city. Without Kurogiri, you better figure out a way to steal a city," Shigaraki groans, leaning against Spinner, rapidly falling asleep.

You gasp and brush your hair out of your eyes with your tied hands. Hawks had let you thump you to the ground. The mental torture of suspecting he had dropped in the air panicked you. Hawks smiles and hugs you for reassurance. You pretend it's reassuring by hugging him back, but it is a sick mind game you know he's playing. You have been around Shigaraki enough to know. But even Shigaraki wasn't this cruel.

"Don't worry, little chick. If I ever drop you, I'll let you know why first. How else will you learn," Hawks grins. He stands and slams his fist on a bell. You look around and see you are in a fancy waiting room. The men that step out from the back are Dr. Chisaki and Rappa.

You have no idea about the Doctor. But You know about Rappa. Years ago, he would get patched up at a vet's office you did an internship at. He stopped coming when he joined the yakuza. Oh shit. You don't like any of this. The Dr. Moves the bell away from Hawks.

"How can I help you, Hawks?" The Doctor asked with an annoyed, muffled tone behind a plague mask. He looks like a creepy bird. What was with Hawks and birds? It was disturbing. Hawks giddily grabbed your cheeks to show off your face.

"I stole myself a cute little arcane mute. Isn't that right, baby chick?" He gushes sweetly. Only you know that's a threat. He will do something nasty if you open your mouth, so stay mute. You nod fiercely. The strange doctor eyes you like a curious bird.

"Very pretty. Her being a mute must have been why she wasn't snatched up. Although in truth, I find a silent woman far more appealing. You have the worst timing," the Doctor said callously. You broke out in gooseflesh and squirmed under his scrutiny. Hawks laughed, then shook his head.

"You and me both. No. It's because she's infertile. Fix her up for me on the down-low, and I'll pay you triple," Hawks said.

"Do you want me to repair her vocal cords?" The Doctor asked, getting closer. Yellow eyes are raking over you in disdain.

"I thought we agreed she would be better off with her little mouth shut. Just the fertility," Hawk beams. Kissing you on the forehead a sharp poke of a feather at your back. The message is loud and clear. You say anything, and he will be cruel and cut you.

"You have the worst timing. We just had an earthquake. Didn't you feel it?" The doctor huffs.

"I felt it, but I expect quick services if I'm paying these prices," Hawks growls.

The Doctor sighs and snaps his fingers. Rappa lifts you, carrying you to a room in the back. You struggle against your restraints to no avail. Rappa Pins you down to the table. You almost yelp out loud. Instead, you make a pitiful whimper.

He spreads your legs and ties them down. When he rips away your pants, you jerk in fear, exposed to the creep doctor. The Doctor pulls on gloves sitting between your legs. Shoving his fingers roughly and unceremoniously in your pussy. He didn't even bother to spit on them.

"Not a whore. Nice and tight," he says, staring at you. You shudder in disgust as he painfully stretches your hole open for him to look inside you. You never felt so violated. Not even Shigaraki said disgusting things before hurting you. The Doctor's brow furrows. He pulls back and finds a horse needle. He fills it and starts coming towards you. You are thrashing, more scared of this guy than Hawks.

You open your mouth to scream for Hawks to help you when a large hand covers your mouth. A sharp sting in your neck makes you squeal in surprise. Your head swims, and it feels like you are floating. It feels amazing. Someone is asking you questions, and you giggle.

"Whaaaat?" you ask.

"I said get your ass moving, you dumb twat! What is wrong with you? Are you on your period?" Mr. Chew squeals. You plunge to earth, snapping to reality. Looking around, it seems like a war scene in a movie. Was there another earthquake? Your mind slowly wanders. You have no idea how much time has passed.

"Where did you get her? She is not of this world! She admitted it to my bullet. I pulled this from her. I've never seen what this is made of! It is an alien compound!" The Doctor shouts, holding up your IUD to Hawks.

Hawks is laughing, covered in blood, mocking the Doctor for being too slow. The Doctor touches the ground, and spikes shoot up from the floor. Hawks dodged and sent feathers at Kai. Oh fuck, that is bad, you think. A sharp bite on your pinky brings you back to the rat. The little fuck head bit you.

"Move! I chewed through the ropes. Now is the time to run. While they are measuring their tiny scary dicks!" Mr. Chew snarls. You try to stand on your wobbly legs and flop over. You look like a newborn foal while you struggle against the effects of the drugs. It takes you five more tries before you stand and stumble towards the exit.

The nasty incel rat is ridding your shoulder while screaming obscenities at you.

Chapter 8

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