#'you’re so young you should have excellent memory' fuck right off. spend a day as us see how you feel by the end of it

[tesco-finest-aromantics]

if you tell someone with memory problems that they’re “too young” to have bad memory you are being ableist. end of.

[dammitolly]

Loki Imagine: "Starting Now"

tw: rather large age gap, swearing, major angst

fluff, angst

Loki x Stark!Reader

You were seventeen when you met Loki Laufeyson. And you must admit... you had a bit of a crush on him. He was being kept prisoner by S.H.E.I.L.D, his power too great and his blood lust overpowering. You found him... interesting.

It only took a couple of tries before Nick Fury found out you were spying on Loki. You would study his mannerisms. For a god, he was quite... human. But, that was before there was a code put on the door, one that was made to keep you away from him.

It had never been explained to you in detail exactly what Loki had done, and you were too busy doing other 17-year-old things to turn on the news. So, Banner kept you as distracted from the trickster god as possible, showing you anything and everything he could in the lab. But, you would occasionally see Loki being escorted to and from his cell, peering into the lab... grinning at you. You couldn't help it, you wondered what he was like... you'd also wondered what those beautiful black locks felt like through your fingers. But those thoughts were just fantasies... ones that would never come true.

You had never been close to anyone capable of that before, capable of killing. Let alone someone who had wanted to do it. But you were a fool... a child. You didn't understand Loki, you didn't understand what he'd done. Not that anyone had bothered to clue you in.

After things got out of control, Tony, your father sent you back to New York where you would stay with Pepper and train for the next three years. Where you would learn how to help your father. Learn how to be an Avenger.

You were nineteen when you saw him again. His hair had gotten longer and his face had aged, but the biggest change was that he was no longer considered an enemy of the Avengers. Now, he was simply accompanying his brother to the compound.

It was almost noon when you first woke up and began making breakfast. It was your day off and you were going to do your favorite activity: sleep.

"My, my" a velvet voice said from behind you, "look who grew up."

You didn't need to turn around to know who was speaking. You grinned and continued to smear butter on your toast. "For the God of Mischief, you really aren't very good at sneaking up on people."

You turned and threw the butter knife, it pierced the wall right above his head. He stood with his eyes wide, his shock was unjustified. For one, if you had wanted to hit him you would; two, he had to have known what you had been doing all these years, what your father required of you.

You took him in as he sauntered through the kitchen, leaning against the bar. He was in desperate need of a haircut, the black locks fell to his shoulders. He wore his traditional solid black suit, not a hint of color. Not even his signature forest green.

He looked tired... as if it had been not two years but twenty. Age had gone well with him though. He looked mature, as though the youthful pranks had stopped a long time ago, like the power-hunger had disappeared.

You smirked, "You've gotten old."

"Two years isn't that long, Y/n." He reached over his head and yanked the knife out of the wall, leaving a small hole. Pepper would kill you for that later. Worth it.

You took the knife from his hand. "It is when you're getting old and fat," you retorted.

Loki chuckled, "You are your father's daughter."

You rolled your eyes, "Did you need something? Or do you enjoy seeing the mental agony you inflict upon me?"

"Actually, I was looking for your father."

You pointed your knife towards the elevator at the other end of the room, "Lab. Lower level. You should be familiar with that wing." The wing he had been kept prisoner in. The wing you had strolled down almost every day when you were seventeen just to catch a glimpse of the handsome prisoner.

"Thank you, darling," he replied as he strolled over to the elevator. He smiled and gave you a wink before the doors slid shut. You rolled your eyes.

Darling? Absolutely not.

Dinner was the most awkward thing that you've ever been forced to sit through. The fear of Loki and his manipulation loomed over the table like fog. Steve was watching him like a feral animal that would attack at any second. As if he were a venomous snake ready to strike at any given moment.

"So," Thor cleared his throat awkwardly, "Y/n, your father tells me you've been training in New York. How's that going?"

"It's a lot of work but it's a nice way to spend time," you said through a bite of mashed potatoes. "Right now I'm focusing more on science so I can help Bruce and dad. But Natasha is really wanting to do more combat training with me."

"Y/n fights now?" Loki asked, grinning at you.

You shrugged, "Not much, but I could definitely kick your ass."

"Could you now? I suppose we'll have to put that to the test, won't we Miss Stark?" Loki said with a wink.

Natasha laughed, "Y/n is a bit too soft right now. Once she gets over her fear of actually hurting someone I think she'll be an excellent fighter."

"The knife she threw at me this morning must have been an expression of that fear."

"Y/n Stark!" Pepper said from the other end of the table, "You did not put that hole in my wall."

"He was annoying me!" You said defensively.

"He annoys everyone, you don't see Tony throwing silverware at his head."

"No he just blasts him to hell with his suits," you deadpanned.

Pepper looked at Tony. "You see where she gets it? I told you seventeen was too young for training. I told you that the violence would rub off on-"

"Can we not argue at the table, please?" You said, looking back and forth between your father and Pepper.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. But you're going to fix that wall young lady."

"Fine," you sighed with a roll of your eyes. You caught Loki grinning at you from across the table and went back to picking at your food.

"Here I was thinking we were going to have a civilized dinner," Loki chuckled.

Cap scoffed, "Civilized?"

"Cap," your father said with a warning tone.

"What?" Steve said defensively, "I'm just wondering where a murderer gets off saying anything about being civilized."

"That's rich coming from you," Loki retorted. "Do I need to remind you of all the innocents you killed in Sokovia? So many lives sacrificed in the name of doing the right thing."

"Brother!" Thor snapped.

"I'm just trying to level the playing field," Loki grinned. "If I'm going to be put on trial, perhaps everyone else should get off their high horse as well?"

"We have never been on the same level, Loki." Steve snapped, "You tried to conquer this planet. You lied, manipulated, stole, killed innocent humans. All because you wanted a power trip. That wasn't Sokovia, we thought we were doing the right thing, all you wanted to do was the wrong thing. All you wanted to do was kill."

"You speak as though I don't have the ability to change," Loki leaned his elbows on the table. "Isn't that what being on this planet is all about? Second chances?"

"Not for murderers," Steve spat.

You didn't know Loki well... but to the extent that you did know him, you knew that when he was embarrassed he also got angry and violent. But not this time. Loki was the picture of serenity and calm as he stood from his spot at the table. "I see how it is," he muttered, "I suppose I should have just stayed... gone."

With that... he left.

It was 3 AM by the time you left your room again. For no other reason than to break into Thor's cookie stash. He was convinced it was your father that had been stealing from him... wrong Stark.

You prayed that nobody would find you digging in the pantry for two reasons. One: Thor would kill you for stealing his snacks; two, you were in your underwear and a tank top. Anyone other than Pepper seeing you in this state would be humiliating.

But, of course, you can never get what you want. Behind you, you heard soft footsteps padding their way into the kitchen.

"I didn't realize you'd be awake," the masculine voice said from behind you. You turned and saw Loki, shirtless in low-hanging black sweatpants. You did your best to force your eyes away from the dark trail of hair below his belly button and into his pants.

As your eyes met his, you could see the light blush on his cheeks. Fuck, he'd caught you staring. He cleared his throat, "I just thought I'd make some tea. For some reason, I don't sleep well in Midgard."

"Perhaps it's all the memories," You muttered as he stood next to you at the counter.

"For christ's sake, Y/n," he slammed his mug down onto the counter, "I am not that person anymore, you know that."

"Do I?" You turned to face him, "You killed innocent people, Loki. You killed children-"

"I know what I did," he sighed, putting his head in his hands, "I'm trying to fix it. I want to be better than I was."

"Loki we can't just trust you," the tea was long forgotten at this point, the water had probably gone cold, "not after what you did."

Loki huffed and yanked the butcher knife out of the block, placing it in your hand. He wrapped his hand around yours and put the knife to his chest, only a little pressure would need to be applied in order for it to tear his skin.

"Loki, what are you-"

He shushed you, "I am literally putting my life in your hands. I want you to see that I am done hurting people, and if you killing me is how to prove it, then so be it."

You tried to pull away but he pulled you back in with enough force to make your knees buckle. You weren't looking at the knife against his pale, muscular chest. But his blue eyes that were begging you to acknowledge his sincerity.

Your grip on the kitchen knife loosened. It clattered to the floor as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his warm chest. "I don't want to hurt you," you whispered.

You felt him sigh in relief, "I don't want to hurt anyone either. If anyone here is willing to trust me, I want it to be you."

"Why me?"

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, "Because you are the first truly good person I've met on this planet. You give me hope, Y/n." He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You don't have to be that person ever again, Loki," you kissed his Adam's apple gently, "I promise I will help you through this."

You felt him lean down slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up to meet him. You immediately felt your breath hasten. You had been fantasizing about this moment since you were in high school... and now it was about to happen. Loki, God of Mischief, was about to kiss you at 3 AM in the kitchen of the Avengers compound.

Before you could take another breath, his lips were against yours. His lips were soft like you'd always imagined they'd be, and his mouth was hot like the rest of him. He groaned into the kiss when your tongue brushed against his. You raked your fingers through his hair.

He parted his lips from yours in order to lift you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, his hands trailing up your sides.

"Wait, wait," you gasped as you pulled your lips from his, "How do I know you're not about to use me?"

Loki smiled and tucked some stray hair behind your ear, "I'll never lie to you, my darling. I'll be good for you... starting now."

You pressed your forehead against his and kissed the tip of his nose, "Starting now."

[hispipsqueak]

Just One Time

Asahi x F!Reader - NSFW

TW: Angsty, cheating, scumbag reader, manipulation, pregnancy trapping, unprotected sex, sugar daddy Asahi, age gap (reader in mid twenties tho not specified) Asahi in 50′s, unprotected sex, daddy kink

WC: 2.5K

Summary: Asahi’s in a bad marriage and you are there to liven it up...or are you?

A/N: I woke up today and chose violence I guess. @cozykozume and @hiskittyyywrites​ read this and yelled at me so if you want to yell, I feel that. This started off as a sugar daddy Asahi fic but....we got this instead. Also I really want to hug Asahi. I apologize in advance.

All characters are 18+

It was only supposed to be one time.

Fuck.

It wasn’t even supposed to be one time.

Asahi wasn’t sure how the hell he ended up like this. You were hired to work on his show, doing makeup for the models. His job in the fashion industry put him around beautiful men and women every day, dressing them and posing them. Hell, he saw them naked and yet you, just you sitting there sipping on the glass of champagne at the after party for yet another successful campaign launch had his stomach in knots.

You smirked into your glass as you saw the older designer not so subtly watching you from across the room. Standing up you walked over to the tall man and placed a hand on his chest.

“Great show Mr. Azumane.” You smiled at him. You could feel him tense under his button up shirt.

“Uh, oh you can just call me Asahi. Y-yeah, you did an excellent job on their makeup as well. Your name is Y/N right?” 

You laughed, “Oh it’s so sweet you remembered. Most designers never pay attention to the crew...though you are certainly not like most designers.” With this, you slid your hand down his chest. “You’re so built for a fashion designer too.”

Asahi’s face reddened, and he choked on his drink.

“Uh, I uh, used to play volleyball a lot...and work out and stuff...sort of.” He stammered out and you let out another flirty giggle. 

“Clearly. You look amazing. Is there anything you can’t do?” 

Asahi was hyper aware of your hand on his chest roaming toward his bicep. Your nails grazed his skin. You gazed into his eyes and winked, before finishing your drink and putting the empty glass on the shelf behind him.

“Well...I guess I’m going to head out. Would you walk me out? I’m a little tipsy.”

The next thing you knew, you and Asahi were in the bathroom, his mouth on your neck. Your dress was tugged down below your chest and his fingers made quick work of your bra, throwing it across the room. He groped your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples. You moaned out and he clapped his hand over your mouth.

“Shh...we can’t get caught.” His dark eyes stared into yours and yours widened.

“Of course.”

 Your eyes fell to the silver band on his left hand and your heart raced. Yes of course sleeping with an older married man was probably going to send you to hell, but fuck...it was hot.

You could see him becoming unsure, so you slid your hands to his belt, undoing it before dropping to your knees. You gazed up at him, doe-eyed and Asahi’s resolve crumbled, as he nodded. Your fingers grazed his boxer-clad member.

“Fuck, you’re so big. Can’t wait to taste you.” You whispered, pressing a kiss against his lower abs.

Asahi groaned out as you pulled out his cock, stroking him. Your other hand cupped his balls and he bit his lip to stifle his moan. Slipping him into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the tip, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“Fuck that f-feels incredible.” Asahi’s panted out. He placed his hands above your head, nervous to put any pressure on you. You grinned.

“You can touch me. Let me take care of you daddy.” 

You took him further down your throat, and his hands fell to your hair as you bobbed up and down his cock. You moaned around him, the vibrations causing him to grip your hair tightly.

“F-fuck Y/N. You feel amazing. You’re so good.” Asahi muttered, his eyes closed. It had been so long, too fucking long since someone had worshipped him like this. Your mouth was divine and your moans caused his whole body to tremble. He could feel your throat clench around his cock, as you took him impossibly deeper and he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, your lipstick was smudged and you looked so incredibly lewd as you swallowed around his cock.

“Want to make you feel good. Let me have you.” Asahi grunted, pulling you up and bending you over the sink. You met his eyes in the mirror as he lined himself up with your entrance, before digging around in his slacks.

“Shit, condom. What…” He started. You giggled. 

“Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes. You arched your back more and looked up at him.

“Please, daddy?”

Fuck it. Asahi sunk into you and you pressed your hand over your mouth. The stretch burned, and you felt like you were being split in half on his cock. He towered over you as he continued pushing his length into you and finally stilled to a stop.

“You okay?” He asked, seeing your body quivering in the mirror. You grinded your hips slowly as a response, stretching yourself on him. As you moved, the pain subsided until all you felt was pleasure. Seeing you work yourself on his cock had Asahi feral. His hands kneaded your ass and hips, feeling how your body begged for him and craved his touch,

“God, beautiful. You take me so well. You’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered out, slowly pumping himself into you. He looked in the mirror as he fucked you, watched as your lips parted to spill moans that sounded like heaven to his ears. He could see your tits bounce with every thrust and it spurred him on even more. He knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn’t be fucking a girl twenty years younger than him in a bathroom at his party but when you looked up at him in the mirror, your eyeliner running down your cheeks and begged for daddy to fuck you harder, well he could only thrust into you faster and harder.

The sound of slapping skin filled the small room, only broken up by soft pants from both of you in an attempt to keep quiet, though you were failing. You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and felt yourself slamming towards your peak as well.

“I’m so close, so close angel.” Asahi mumbled, his hand clutching the counter so tightly you were sure it would break.

“Cum inside me, fill me up. Fuck fuck FUCK!”, you moaned out as your cunt clenched around his cock. His hips stuttered and you felt him shoot his load deep inside your hole. You could feel his cock throbbing as it filled you, and he could feel the fluttering of your pussy as it sucked every drop out of him.

The two of you collapsed in a heap on the counter, and as you cleaned yourself up, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek before sneaking out of the room. Asahi ran some cold water, splashed his face, and tried to bury the memory of this occurrence.

It was just supposed to be one time.

But when he got home to a dark house, he couldn’t help but be consumed by thoughts of you. He quietly slipped into his bedroom, praying his wife wouldn’t suspect a thing. He undressed, slipping into bed.

“Sorry I’m so late, the party ran pretty…”

“Can you just hush? I’m trying to sleep and you have to be so loud.” his wife snapped, turning her back to him.

Asahi mumbled a soft apology, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Asahi, seriously I’m not in the fucking mood, can you just go to bed?” She shrugged him off. He turned to stare at the ceiling.

It was just one time...right?

Days passed and he tried to push past the guilt he felt by going out of his way for his wife. He set up a reservation for a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant in the city, The owner had a daughter who was apparently a big fan of Asahi’s designs so he was able to pull some strings and get a table. 

“Hey honey, I got us reservations for dinner tonight. You can wear that pretty red dress I like.” He smiled at her. She didn’t look up from her phone.

“I hate that dress. Why are we even going out? That place is ridiculously expensive.” 

Asahi felt his face get hot.

“W-well okay, what would you like to do tonight?”

Still fiddling with her phone, she shrugged.

“Why do we have to do anything? We aren’t young people. God, you don’t get enough partying with your little fashion stuff?” 

Asahi looked down at the floor.

“The place was pretty hard to get in. We really should go.” He stammered out, hoping she would change her mind.

She yawned. “Can’t you just take someone from work or something?”

-----

That was how one time turned to two.

Asahi couldn’t help it. You were so...fun. You hung onto his every word, asking him questions and laughing at his jokes. Your hands were always on him, his thighs, his arms, his chest. You looked at him like he hung the moon.

In turn, he loved spoiling you, lavishing you with high fashion pieces, unreleased from his collection. His guilt for not spending all his time with you led to him making up for it in material goods, which you definitely didn’t mind.

And the sex. God the sex.

You worshipped his cock, begged for him to ruin you. You were adventurous, letting him take control of you, teasing him in public, your fingers grazing his cock through his slacks, shooting him flirty looks as he blushed furiously.

Two times turned into five times, which soon led to a full blown affair. Asahi “worked late” so often, he was sure he’d be caught, but his house was always dark when he came home, his wife in bed asleep.

Yet, his phone had pictures of you, pictures you had taken in his clothes, in the lingerie he bought you that cost more than some people’s entire outfits.

His body still thought about you, the faces you made as you pleaded for his cock. He could imagine the chanting of “daddy” that fell from your lips as he fucked you brainless. Many nights, like tonight, he headed to his shower just to jack off to pictures and videos of your escapades. Your breathy moans filled his ear buds as he gripped the wall, imagining your writhing body underneath him, your warm cunt clamping down on his cock instead of his hand.

He came with a groan, cum splattering on the tile wall. Breathing hard, he turned the hot water on full blast.

Coming down, he watched the water wash his mess down the drain. He hated this feeling, the aftermath of his actions. Knowing his wife was asleep in the next room while he was getting off to his side piece. What kind of man was he? Yes, things had been not so great with his wife recently. But he still loved her...right?

Even if he didn’t want to answer that question and unpack that whole mess, she deserved respect. Not a husband who snuck around behind her back. He had to decide.

His eyes cast themselves down to his wedding band. It felt heavy on his hand.

He had to end things with you.

----

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Asahi’s voice shook, as he sipped his glass of water. The two of you were at his studio, a place he knew his wife would never be at. He hadn’t wanted to be in public when he broke the news to you so he invited you over, though now he was a little nervous to be alone with you.

“Asahi, I feel the same way.” You looked at him, biting your lip.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. This was fun but I feel terrible and I really need to work things out with my wife…”

Your eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?” There was an edge to your voice, something he hadn’t heard coming from you.

Asahi’s dark eyes widened. “U-uh, this affair? We need to end it. Isn’t that what you meant?” His voice stammered as he watched your arms cross over yourself.

“Asahi, I’m pregnant.”

The room started spinning. The overhead lighting became harsh and he felt like he was underwater as those words repeated in his brain.

Pregnant....pregnant...pregnant

“Wh- what?! What about the pill?” He practically yelped, his face heating up. 

“It didn’t work I guess. I’m carrying your baby...and you’re trying to leave me?” You asked, your voice rising as you stood up. 

“I’m not trying to, I mean, I’m, I…” Asahi fumbled his words.

“You just said you want to work things out with ‘your wife’.” You spat the words out in disgust.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant! Are you...are we…?” He trailed off, looking at your stomach, which obviously had no visible changes and yet had visibly changed everything.

“Are you asking me if I’m keeping our baby?” Your eyes widened and Asahi could feel your anger seeping through the air. He quickly shook his head, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

“No, no I’m n– I just meant...what should I do?” Asahi’s mouth went dry. His body felt like it was going to explode and he wanted the earth to swallow him, anything to get him out of this situation.

“You’re going to help me raise our child, Asahi. It’s our baby.” Your voice was cold. No longer the carefree, fun person he knew but instead a disconnected stranger, who he was now tied to forever.

Asahi put his head in his hands. He was ruined. His marriage was over. And now he was a father, at the ripe old age of 50 to a 20-something year old’s baby. This couldn’t be happening.

He felt your hands touch his shoulder and he looked up at you. Your eyes glittered with a look he couldn’t identify. 

“We have some announcements to make, don’t we daddy?” You smiled at him. He stared into space, before taking your hand and following you out the door.

Your heart soared as you prepared on how to tell his wife that she’d be moving out. Maybe you weren’t pregnant yet, but he didn’t have to know that. It’s not like you wouldn’t be soon enough.

After all, it was never just one time. 

[romioneficfest]

Why am I so Ugly?

Title: Why am I so ugly?

Prompt: Day 7 - Anything goes

Tumblr name: 

Rating: PG

Brief Summary: This takes place in the 6th year when Harry drinks the Felix Felicis potion and "make" Lavender broke up with Ron. He goes out for hours in his missing to pursuit Slughorn. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione got some time alone.

Triggers: None (’cept Ron’s mouth)

***************************

Why am I so ugly?

(...) “Excellent,” he said. “Really excellent. Right... I’m going down to Hagrid’s.”

“What?” said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast. “No, Harry — you’ve got to go and see Slughorn, remember?” said Hermione.

“No,” said Harry confidently. “I’m going to Hagrid’s, I’ve got a good feeling about going to Hagrid’s.”

(...)

“This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?” said Hermione anxiously, holding up the bottle to the light. (...)

“Trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing... or at least” — he strolled confidently to the door — “Felix does.”

He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him. At the foot of the stairs, Harry slid through the open door.

“What were you doing up there with her?” shrieked Lavender Brown, staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together from the boys’ dormitories. Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room away from them.

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it, Ginny and Dean came through it, and Harry was able to slip between them. As he did so, he brushed accidentally against Ginny.

“Don’t push me, please, Dean,” she said, sounding annoyed. “You’re always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own....”

The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard Dean make an angry retort. (...)

[Excerpt taken from the book "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince"]

*****

"What were you doing up there with her?"

Harry was so sick of how Ron was being such a coward in the terms of breaking up with Lavender that Felix did it herself. Lavender just started to yell at him, which Ron start to argue before storming off the common room.

Hermione just stayed there, kind of surprised that this was really happening. She waited for Lavender to get back to the Girls Dormitories before she tries to catch Ron in the corridor, but he quickly disappeared. As the general mood in the common room was pretty dangerous for her, she remembers that in her last prefect patrol, she put some things in her locker in the prefects’ bathroom. So, she decides to go there and get it.

The Prefects’ Bathroom was on the fifth floor, in the fourth door to the left of that statue of Boris the Bewildered. She entries and stands in front of one of the mirrors that sats above the sinks. The Prefects’ Bathroom was a huge lavatory with a massive bathtub, almost like a pool with numerous taps. The sinks were very large, with even enough space to sit on them.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Hermione couldn’t dominate her low self-esteem thoughts. She was a 17 years old girl, and the last time a man shows any interest in her felt like ages ago. Well, without counting bloody MacLaggen, but he shows himself for every living thing. A little light of hope started to grow on her chest. Now that Ron was single, would he try something with her? Or she will have to be the one to try it?

Without thinking too much about it, she started to take off her clothes to take a bath in the giant tub.

"Hum...Mione? Is that you?"

Scared to death, she quickly covers up, not that she was in a completely embarrassing position, ‘cause she just took off her sweater, but still… it was Ron. She just got so nervous whatever they have some private moment.

"Yes, it’s me." He opens the door and got to the locker next to her and started to look for something. "Are you alright?"

"Are you kidding me? Yes. Just got rid of Lav without having to do so."

"Well, that's mature."

"What? I mean, you know I just couldn’t do it myself. Stop looking at me like that. I like her and all, but not like that."

"I understand...hum...I'm glad that you are happy now."

"Oh...hum...thanks. Now we just have to worry about Harry and his mission. I really hope that Felix works on getting the memory out of Slughorn."

"Yeah, me too. There so much going on, I was preparing for a bath here. Do you care to join me? All prefects could fit on this tub, really."

His ears became so red that it was almost indistinguishable from his hair. That certainly sounds better in her head them out loud.

"Is just that the aura in the common room is pretty dense right now. But you don't have to, really. It was silly to ask."

"But I want to."

Before the shame could take the best off both of them, she goes to the mirror and makes a bun out of her hair. Ron was untying his shoelaces when he heard:

"God. Why I have to be so ugly? This shirt looks terrible on me. I'm going to transfigure this into a toy for Crookshanks later!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Ron. I was just thinking out loud."

"No, I heard you. Do you really think that you're ugly? ‘Cause, that's bullshit."

"Well, when you spend your entire youth with Malfoy and Parkinson telling you look like a chipmunk, you started to believe them."

"What about the times that I told you how beautiful you are?"

"Hum...I just figured that you and Harry were being nice to me. Besides, I don't think it was too often, so..."

"No, stop it. I never said it to be nice! I truly mean it! And maybe I don't tell you all the time, but I sure think of it every day when I see you." his face was so red he looked like he had a fever.

"...you do?"

Her feet were moving practically alone, getting herself closer to him. They were just staring at each other, not really knowing what to do next.

And then, someone walks into the bathroom and releases a big laugh.

"Ahh! Look what we have here! The mudblood and the blood-traitor! Did my eyes fool me, or did you two was about to..."

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy! Why are you here anyway? Are you trying to cry in every bathroom in Hogwarts?"

Malfoy was so quick getting his wand that Ron probably was getting cursed if wasn't for Hermione stopping the spell.

"Please, Ron. Let's go. He’s not worth it."

Seeing themselves out of the bathroom, Ron’s expression reveals that he wore very angry and very concerned.

"Look, Mione. Maybe it's best if we go on to the Astronomy Tower. Remember how we could see Hagrid's hut perfectly when we are doing the OWLs? Ya know, for keeping an eye on Harry in case he seems to need us. Also, I bump into Dean before I was reading here. I think Ginny broke up with him. Maybe we should find her and cheer her up or something. Don't you think?"

"Hum...fine. That sounds the right thing to do right now..."

"Good. But listen, I don't want to hear you say that horse shit about being ugly ever again, okay? Or I will have to do something about you, young lady!"

"Well, in that case, maybe I'll say it again sometime."

[hydrasweapon]

@weaponizedembrace gets the longest starter in history for our thing

            Howard doesn’t find Steve. Even after days, after months, he doesn’t find Steve. He keeps on searching, though – maybe because he cannot stand Bucky’s face whenever he comes back empty-handed. In the meantime, Bucky’s injuries heal up. Way quicker than should be possible, he’s as fresh as a daisy – minus the arm, of course. They want to send him home. He tells them very sincerely fuck you and that’s it. He guesses it’s also Carter’s and maybe Colonel Phillips doing that they leave him alone, but he doesn’t care. To be honest, Bucky doesn’t care about a lot of things anymore. VE-day comes and goes and he toasts with the other Howlies but then he walks back to the barracks, surrounded by screaming, partying people, and he feels nothing. The war in Europe is over and he has never felt more lost, not even in the trenches with shells detonating right next to him. 

          He reads about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and wonders what Steve would have said to that. Then he has to put the newspaper away because it feels like his heart is going to give up on him. He gets a lot of letters from his family but doesn’t know how to respond, so he only puts them in his duffel or sometimes in the pocket of his jacket and feels bad for never finding the right words. 

           In late August, Carter tells him that she’s going to go to New York City to continue the SSR’s work and also that there’s going to be an official state funeral for Steve in Arlington. Nobody, not even a super-soldier, could survive months without food or shelter in the icy, windswept wasteland of the Arctic. Bucky listens and doesn’t answer but he turns up the day Carter and Stark leave for the States in Stark’s private plane. 

          The ceremony is pompous. The Arlington National Cemetery is bursting at the seams because every politician wants to say goodbye to a hero and hopefully get some good publicity while doing that. Bucky has to puke three times behind a tree before he is able to walk up to President Truman to get his own Purple Heart medal and receive Steve’s Medal of Honor because there is no other family member left to take it for him. They even conjured a fucking statue up out of nothing. They want to take photos in front of that statue. Bucky is glad his stomach is already empty or he would have puked on the shoes of the President himself and wouldn’t that be something to put on the front page. 

          He doesn’t stay longer than it takes to get the medals, do some hand-shaking and take some pictures. There is a speech. The President said some words, too, but the real speech is by Colonel Phillips himself and Bucky can’t listen to that, he just can’t. They will think he’s rude but he’s pretty certain Phillips understands. He leaves the cemetery and promises himself to never come back to this place.

          Bucky takes the train up to New York. After half an hour, he feigns to be asleep because people keep thanking him for his service and welcoming him home and it makes his already empty stomach roil again. His parents and Becca are waiting for him at the train station. It’s when Winifred Barnes wraps her son up in her arms, that something breaks inside him. Bucky takes a deep, shuddering breath, and now the tears, finally, come. They stream down his face, soak his mother’s blouse, and he cannot get enough air into his lungs, everything is hurting, the pain squeezes his chest, his insides, his heart, and he falls to his knees and Winifred sits down next to him on the cold, hard ground, and just keeps him close and rocks him back and forth like a child, but he will always be her child, won’t he? No matter what.

          Bucky doesn’t manage to get a grip on himself for half an hour. All the time, his mother’s tight embrace doesn’t waver; Becca shields his vulnerable left side and his father’s hand is heavy and protecting on his shoulder. George Barnes glares at every passenger even thinking of making a stupid remark concerning this scene on a public station platform. 

            Then, somehow, Bucky manages to stop crying, or maybe he is just – empty. His father bundles his family up in the car and they drive through Manhattan and back to Brookly, home. Bucky is too tired and exhausted and falls asleep with his head on his sister’s shoulder. He doesn’t even notice when George picks him up carefully and carries him inside as he used to do back when he was a young boy and drifted off listening to the wireless in the evening. His and Becca’s child room changed into Winifred’s sewing room years ago but there’s still his old bed and when his father puts him down there and covers him with a warm quilt, he curls up and sleeps for hours.

            During the next couple of weeks, neither Bucky nor his family knows how to treat each other. Winifred bakes a lot, George urges Bucky to play cards with him in the evenings. Becca comes over whenever she can. Bucky visits his grandparents' grave; they had died while he'd been overseas. Apart from that, he doesn't really leave the house: There are always people on the street he knows. They welcome him back and either tell him how sorry they are for his loss or ask where Steve is (if they didn't put 2 and 2 together yet).

            He stays in his family home and stares out of the window and lets his mother put some meat on his bones and wonders what on earth he is supposed to do now, without his best friend and without a left arm besides.

            It’s shortly after Christmas (a rather silent affair) that Margaret Carter knocks on his door and kind of bullies him into joining the SSR once more. She knows all the perfect words for him to agree -- that Steve wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life this way, that he cannot live off his parents forever, that he is still a useful member of society. He agrees just to get her out of his room because she makes him feel scraped raw. Shortly after New Year’s Day, Bucky starts to work for the New York office of the SSR.

            The years pass. They are -- mostly a dull succession of days. His sister marries in 1949, a guy called William Proctor, who works for a shipping company and never saw the European Theater due to really bad eyesight. Dancing with Rebecca on her wedding day is one of the few memories Bucky will cherish for the rest of his life. She is so happy. 

           Unfortunately, being a married woman seems to mean that she absolutely has to marry her brother off, too. She introduces him to friends at least once a month and invites him over for dinner with -- what a coincidence! -- single ladies all the time. She also makes him visit the dance halls with her every other week. He doesn’t mind the last one -- it’s really nice to watch all the couples dance, learn this new Boogie Woogie thing. He is not interested in the gals, though. He simply cannot bring himself to think of love again.

            He's no longer working for the SSR but for an agency Carter, Stark, and Phillips formed of its remnants: the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. The acronym makes Bucky want to both puke and cry. It doesn’t change much, workwise, though.

            1954 is a big year. He attends the weddings of Dum Dum Dugan and Jim Morita and it’s almost as if the Howling Commandos are back together. Even Falsworth comes to the States for the occasion, him and Gabe sharing pictures of chubby Montgomery Junior and little Steven. Gabe looks a little sheepish when he tells Bucky the name of his son and Bucky might be a little choked-up but he’s certain Steve would have loved this little, full-faced namesake. Only Dernier doesn’t make it.

            1954 is also the year Bucky has a vocal dispute with Peggy Carter and quits his job quite aggressively. But what else is he supposed to do when he’s down in former Camp Lehigh for a work thing and crosses paths with Arnim godfuckingdamn Zola? It’s only due to three coworkers that he cannot bash Zola’s face the moment he spots him in the corridor. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about Operation Paperclip. Carter’s words are like poison in his ears. He doubts she believes them, herself. But she has the greater good in mind and was probably overruled in Zola’s case. Bucky does not care. He will not work for an agency hiring this piece of dirty shit. He has nightmares for weeks, always seeing that grubby little face with its evil smirk in front of his eyes. 

            It’s complicated to find another job. Nobody wants to hire a cripple. Labor work is impossible for him, too. Shortly before Thanksgiving in 1954, Bucky notices for the first time that something is off. That he is -- wrong. When he asks for a job in a nearby factory, the boss asks him how he lost his arm. He doesn’t believe the war-story. “Look at you, you’re too young to have been in the war, son.”

            That evening, Bucky stares into the mirror. The guy is right: He looks like he came home from Europe yesterday. He looks like a guy in his mid-20s, not like a man going on 40. His younger sister looks older now. There’s not a single white hair. There are no wrinkles. He drinks a whole bottle of whisky and tells himself he’s having excellent genes. 

Shortly before Christmas, he gets a new job thanks to his brother-in-law and works as an accountant in the same shipping company as William Proctor.

            1958 is both a joyful and terrible year. Becca gives birth to her first child after years of trying to get pregnant. Little Emily Sarah is the cutest thing on earth and Bucky loves her with every fiber of his being. He tries to ignore the women gushing at him ‘being such a young, handsome father’ when he takes her out for walks. He turned 40 two months ago. He should not look like this.

            In late August, George Barnes dies. The doctor speaks of a heart attack. Bucky cries late at night, in his bed, when he doesn’t have to be the strong one anymore. He moves in with his mother again to support her -- so she can keep the apartment she lived in for nearly 45 years already, and so she has company and someone to watch over her. She, too, is getting older and frailer. Bucky could be her grandson, now, given his looks. When their old neighbor Mr. Lowenstein mentions this, Bucky cannot ignore it any longer. He calls Howard Stark.

            The passage of time manifested itself in a lot of wrinkles in Stark’s face. That’s how a man his age should look like. That’s what Bucky wants to see when he’s standing in front of a mirror. Stark looks taken aback at his sight, then explains in great detail that he’s an engineer and usually doesn’t do biological stuff but he draws a vial of blood either way and looks at it under a microscope and then tells him that he could be mistaken but the last and only time he ever saw cells like Bucky’s was shortly after they shot Steve up with Erskine’s serum.

            Bucky thinks of Zola and his countless injections and fire in his veins and pukes right across Stark’s workbench. Stark says there’s nothing he can do. That was Erskine’s area of expertise, not his. He really doubts Bucky is immortal but he will probably live to see his 150th birthday. Bucky could ask Zola, of course, Zola who’s working for S.H.I.E.L.D. now. But he’d rather cut his remaining arm off than ever seeing him again.

            He doesn’t tell his mother nor his sister. He tries to live on as if nothing happened but it’s hard. He notices now that he heals way quicker than the average human being. He gets bonuses because he never calls in sick for work. On a sleepless night, he walks through Brooklyn and over to Manhattan and back to the docks for work and doesn’t feel tired at all. He’s----he’s like Steve now. Or rather, was since that factory in Kreischberg. He just chose to never notice.

            He sees his mother age and little Emily Sarah grow up and his own face doesn’t change at all. Sometimes he wonders if everyone he knows is going to die and he will end up alone in this world. It’s a terrifying thought. More often than not he finds himself standing on the docks after work, staring into the muddy water. Steve is down there, too. A cold, dark grave. He wouldn’t want Bucky to off himself. He would be furious. That, and maybe whatever Zola did to his body would prevent him from dying, anyway. So Bucky thinks about it but never acts on it.

            In January 1961, Winifred Barnes dies. Bucky, confused he doesn’t find his mother in the kitchen as usual in the morning, goes to check on her. She looks like she’s still sleeping but her hands are cold. Bucky sits down next to her for three hours and cries and hides his face in her neck that still smells like her. It’s only when his brother-in-law pounds on the front door because he didn’t turn up for work that Bucky gets up and calls his sister.

            They bury their mother next to George Barnes. Bucky brings flowers every week.

            One year later, shortly before the assassination of Kennedy, Howard Stark pops up out of nowhere, looking mad and excited. He talks a lot of gibberish Bucky doesn’t understand, but he gets the gist either way. Howard invented the prototype of a mechanical prosthesis that will work like a normal arm made of flesh and bone does. It’s absolutely batshit crazy. The surgery needed to implant the sensors of the arm into one’s brain will probably kill the test subject. Bucky agrees, anyway. First of all, he doesn’t mind dying. Sooner rather than later (which means in over 100 fucking years). Secondly, having only one arm sucks. He has gotten used to it, over the years, but it’s still crap. And, in the end, if Stark manages to develop a working prosthesis far superior to what they got now, all the other poor cripples will benefit, too.

            Bucky doesn’t tell his sister because she would try to stop him. She’s mad as hell at him, though, and refuses to speak to him for one month when he comes back with a metal arm (because of course, he did not die). Emily Sarah thinks her uncle is absolutely amazing. 

The arm is better than any prosthesis he had so far. It’s not a real arm but he doubts anything will be like the real thing. He keeps it covered up whenever he goes outside. According to Stark, there’s nobody else who would survive such extensive surgery. He puts the blueprints away for later generations. ‘Now is just not the time’, he says.

            Then there’s another war. Bucky wonders why on earth the United States engage in whatever is happening in Vietnam. 20 years later and everyone seemed to have forgotten about Europe. They probably think now that there’s a wall dividing Germany and thus Eastern and Western countries, they have to do their bombing and shooting somewhere else. He’s getting more and more nightmares just reading the newspapers. Steve didn’t sacrifice his life so humans could fight on another continent. But nobody cares about Captain America anymore save perhaps for stupid comics and stupid movies and stupid biographies they want to interview Bucky for.

            His mood, never back to being cheery and humorous after the war, turns even darker. There are no more mirrors in his apartment. He’s sick of seeing his young face. He knows Becca and her husband noticed, too, but they don’t say anything. Some ghosts you just cannot explain. Some ghost you just cannot understand if you didn’t see them yourself.

            His only glimmer of hope is little Emily Sarah. He lets her dance on his feet. He lets her play with his metal arm. He picks her up from school if his job allows it. He tells her about a guy named Captain America he met in Europe who was really brave and heroic and saved them all. Those stories are her favorite. Unfortunately, she also notices the comics and thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that Captain America has a young friend whose name is also Bucky. Neither Bucky himself nor her parents tell her the truth.

            Then, on a rainy day in April 1966, Bucky gets the worst message imaginable. Car accident. Slippery road. No survivors. 

            He breaks down when he has to pick a coffin small enough for a child. 

            He lays them to rest next to his parents. Carter is there, too. She puts a huge bouquet of lilies in front of the headstones and squeezes his arm. Her cheeks are wet. Bucky doesn’t thank her, cannot open his mouth because he fears he wouldn’t be able to stop screaming. She knows, though.

            Bucky has to clear out his sister’s apartment the next day. When he stands in front of the big mirror in the main bedroom and sees his youthful face, chestnut hair, the skin free of wrinkles, he puts his fist through the glass. There’s a sharp-edged shard embedded in his wrist. He pulls it out and stares at the blood oozing out and then sits down and hopes. 

            Two hours later, the wound is scabbed over and the dizzy feeling has vanished. He takes the photos and other mementos and leaves the apartment.

            Stark does not seem surprised to find Bucky visiting his Estate in Los Angeles. ‘I tried to, you know,’ he tells him. ‘To reverse the effects of that serum. But I did not succeed. Maybe smarter minds in the future will be able to.’

            Bucky stares at him, feeling all the pain of the world settling on his shoulders. ‘I can’t wait that long. I can’t. Put a bullet through my head or reverse the effects, I don’t care.’

Stark is silent for a long time. Then he says: ‘Maybe there’s another option.’ And leads him down to the basement.

            The thing that looks like an iron maiden from the Dark Ages is supposed to freeze a person like you’d put a piece of steak into the freezer for eating it later. Little does Bucky know that Howard’s idea for it comes from Arnim Zola himself. Having received a terminal diagnosis, there is absolutely no idea too crazy for Zola to extend his lifespan or survive until more advanced medicine will save him. Stark toyed with the idea himself. What if he would get sick? What if he wants to go to a future where he isn’t limited by his own time and state of research? He doesn’t tell Bucky any of that. He only says: ‘It might kill you. It will kill every normal human, that’s for sure. If you don’t die, though, maybe scientists can help you in the future.’

            Bucky needs a week to take care of his belongings, money, and the apartment. He never felt more alive in the past 20 years than this week. He only keeps what reminds him of his family and Steve. It fits in two suitcases. He offers Stark all the money he’s got and the billionaire looks affronted. It’s probably only peanuts, for him. He takes it anyway, ‘to make investments. Gonna need money in the future, pal.’

            Then, on a Sunday evening, Bucky unscrews the metal arm, undresses, and steps inside the tank-like machine. The metal is cold under his bare feet. 

            ‘Do you really want to do that?’ Stark asks one last time. Bucky looks at him, all the tiredness of the world in his eyes. Then he closes his eyes. He doesn’t feel the cold at all.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

HAIKYUU IS BACK AND SO HERE I AM 

listen folks, season 4 has come. my crops are flourishing, my skin is clear, i’ve been revived. i cried and watched the opening 4 times, i’ve watched the episodes 3x now. Kuroo has always owned me and bITCH he still does. 

as usual, i have no shame, so have this professor Kuroo x  grad student reader that turned surprisingly angsty (my heart is so full with s4 that idk how it ended that way). i dont even care how cliche this is, im so weak for stuff like this. also i have no idea if this field is even a thing but i dont care 

warnings: suggestive nsfw, angst 

will there be a part 2? who knows 😉 (spoiler, there is...and three and four)

as usual, 💖 J

~

You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting what your faculty member that you’d be working with for your graduate career to be like, but it had been more along the lines of: crotchety old man, white hair, still sporting tweed suit jackets from the seventies. It definitely never crossed your mind that a young man, probably around your age, you’d guess a bit older since he was already a faculty member, would greet you on your first day.

You also weren’t expecting him to be fucking drop dead gorgeous—and you mean ovary melting, clich�� totally swooning material. Never in your life have you felt so nervous around a person before. It really wasn’t fair in the slightest. And on top of it all, he was amiable. The two of you got along swimmingly, half in part to how close you are in age and the other half since you’re both mad about biotechnology.

You tried. You really did. Tried not to develop a crush on him. But the more you got to know him, the more days spent together, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper because it wasn’t just about looks anymore. You liked him. A lot too. You can’t even explain why. You learned rather quickly he’s no lady killer like he’s looks suggested—oh no. He’s the biggest dork you’ve ever met.  And now you’re head over heels with no hope of going back. It was a rather futile attempt to resist it.

Sitting at your desk, you rub your hands over your face trying to get those thoughts out of your head. Or at least shove them to the far depths of your brain so you can continue to act like everything is fine and not like your heart is going to overwork itself anytime he’s anywhere near you. And god—was that getting increasingly difficult. With your first year ending and presenting your research at the National Biotech Conference coming up, the two of you have been spending more and more late nights in the lab together. Alone.

You might as well dig your grave now.

Just a few nights ago the night ended early because he set off the fire alarm making a hot pocket. The two of you too enamored with the project to notice the microwave on the verge of combusting. Why the hell he put it in there for five minutes was beyond you, but he tried to explain that he was planning on taking it out before the timer ran out. The memory of it makes the corner of your mouth quirk upward.

“You bored out of your mind already?” A voice teases from behind you, making you to jolt in your seat.

Speak of the devil.

You turn in your chair to find none other than the root of your problems: Dr. Kuroo. Jesus fuck you can barely look straight at him without feeling some sort of nerves ball up in your stomach.

Giving him a weak smile, you say, “Those all-nighters are really getting the best of me.”

His eyes soften and christ—you need medical help to deal with the way your heart is stuttering in your chest. By the end of this conversation you’re going to need a defibrillator with the way he smiles at you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Riiiight. About those….” He avoids your gaze and you already know what’s coming.

“Another one tonight?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Sorry about that. We’re just really down to the wire now. I want to make sure everything is set.”

You wave him off, there’s nothing to apologize for. You knew what you were getting into here. And you know it’s only his second conference as a distinguished member of the community, so he has a standard to uphold.

A startled gasp escapes you when his voice appears right next to your goddamn ear, his warm breath against your skin practically sending you into a frenzy. “You working on the statistics?” The nod you give him is almost imperceptible, afraid any movements from you are going to give away how his proximity is making you feel. His eyes scan your screen before patting you on the shoulder. “Looks good so far, send it to me when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding when he moves away.

How the fuck are you going to survive the next year?

Hell—how are you going to survive a week-long convention with him?

As he heads back to his own desk, Kuroo glances warily around the office to make note of any suspicious onlookers. It’s been harder and harder to keep that professional line with you, and every public conversation you shared he was highly aware to not slip into his easy mannerisms he found himself indulging in during all those late nights. Because fuck him—he liked you. Why did he of all the options get assigned the one graduate student who is his age and is fucking gorgeous on top of your academic prowess?

He never stood a chance.

He is barreling straight towards an academic violation at full speed and his brakes are broken. That’s how bad it is.

But goddamn he can keep it in his pants for the sake of his job and your career.

That sentiment went to shit that night.

You’re late, which almost never happens. He can count on one hand the times you’ve been late. And you always texted him with your ETA and an explanation but tonight…silence. He knows you haven’t left, he saw you a little over an hour ago speaking to Dr. Yu, and a quick trip to your desk confirms it; all your stuff is still here.

He’s lucky to catch Dr. Yu on his way out, asking if he knows of your whereabouts. “You haven’t seen her?” His brows lift. “Must’ve gotten caught up in the library. Said she was going to stop by there before your meeting.”

Kuroo does an excellent job of hiding his confusion. Meeting? Is that what you’ve been disguising your all-nighters with him as to your colleagues?

That means you feel there’s a reason to keep it a secret.

Or is he reading too far into it?

Nonetheless, he strides towards the library, irked to find most of the lights off and it utterly silent inside. He checks the table area first, then peruses the shelf, peeking down each to see if you’re actually in here. It’s likely you already left and are now waiting for him in the lab in the time since he’s begun looking for you.

He finds you in one of the farthest corners of the library and it isn’t until he approaches you does he realize the situation he’s just put the two of you in.

Alone.

In the dark library.

You’re sat deep into an armchair, legs curled up underneath you, head resting on your hand while you flip through the pages of a book sitting in your lap. You look so picturesque he can’t help but stare for a few seconds before clearing his throat to alert you to his presence.

He scares the absolute shit out of you.

Leaping out of the chair, the book clattering to the floor, you shout, “Holy fu—Dr. Kuroo! You can’t just do that!” Then you blink, like your brain is catching up to you, then you frantically check your watch and outwardly groan. “I knew I should have set an alarm. Sorry, just lost track of time back here.” Smirking softly, he takes a step forward, bending to pick up the book sprawled on the floor. He hands it to you, your fingertips brushing his, a jolt of lightning spearing through you at the contact.

Every sense of yours is filled with his presence, your head clouded with thoughts of what if you just…closed that gap. What would happen if you took just one step forward? Would he let you run your hands over his chest, snaking around his neck to tangle into his dark hair? What would it feel like to press your body against his?

Holy hell—you need to get out of here.

It’s then that you realize you’ve been staring at him.

And that he’s holding your gaze, his golden eyes locked onto yours. The air is so charged you feel like your entire body is buzzing, urging you to indulge in the thoughts swirling in your head. You open your mouth to break the silence, grasping at any sense of logic you have left to end this dangerously tempting situation.

Kuroo’s last strand of self-control splintered the moment he caught you staring at him so intently. The same thoughts weaving through his head as yours, the fantasy he’s had for months now of holding you against him, his lips pressed to yours, is so tantalizingly close he can barely stand it.

So, he comes to decision. Before this opportunity eludes him, he has to act now. He watches as your mouth opens, your better judgement clearly still intact, and before you can get a word out, he leans down to kiss you. His hands finding their way to your waist, tugging you to him, he’s pleasantly delighted to find you sink into him. Your own hands reaching up to curl into his shirt, soft mouth moving against his own, he almost groans at how you’re reacting to him.

He’s intoxicating, the way his fingers are digging into the skin of your waist, how his tongue slips into your mouth, you can barely keep your feet underneath you. What’s even more exhilarating to you is that he initiated this.

He wanted you too.

The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

When he feels your hands travel from his collar to slip your fingers through his hair, this time he can’t help it, a deep pleased sound escaping him, rumbling through your entire body and sending heat straight to your core. Jesus Christ this man his going to be the absolute death of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands roam from your waist to cup your ass, using the leverage to press you even closer to him, letting you feel just what exactly you’re doing to him. All he can think is that he wants more, he wants you underneath him, chest heaving, moaning his name and no one else’s. With that on his mind, he splays his fingers out underneath your thighs, intending on lifting your legs around him.

The action turns your brain back on, the gears working hard through the haze clouding your mind, realizing where exactly this is going. Your sense of reason finally coming through, screaming: Stop! What the fuck are you doing?! Instinctively, you shove him away from you.

He blinks in surprise as he stumbles back into the bookshelf, thrown off by your sudden rejection.

Your heart crumbles seeing his hurt expression. It’s no use denying it anymore. You want him. So bad that you were this close to throwing all caution to the wind just now. But you can’t, not under the circumstances. He is your colleague. Your superior. What the hell were you thinking?!

Steeling your resolve, you say quietly, “Kuroo…I—That…that shouldn’t have happened.”

You can’t even look at him, too afraid of what will happen if you do.

He knows you’re lying.

He stares at you for a moment, considering all his options. Truly, he’d like to just gather you up in his arms, assuring you everything will be fine, and kissing your worries away until you melt beneath him again. But he knows that’s crossing the line. Instead, he settles on making his feelings clear. He wants you to know where he stands. He doesn’t want you to think what just happened meant nothing to him. But he’s willing to give you space to put your thoughts together.

“I need you to look at me,” he says.

You bite your lip. “I can’t.” Now your throat feels tight with the effort of keeping tears at bay. Why is it like this? Why did you have to meet him in this way? He says your name like a command, so you ball your fists in determination and raise your watery eyes to meet his.

With such surety and resolve it just about makes you burst into tears, he tells you clearly, “I’m so head over heels for you it’s not even funny.”

He’s right, this isn’t funny. It’s anything but. And he’s making it worse by being so goddamn perfect you want to scream. The universe must really be a bitch for putting you through this, making you fall in love with someone who is so off limits. You can feel your heart wilting within your chest as you plead, “I need to leave.”

He lets you go, despite every instinct telling him not to. He spends the night in the lab alone, barely getting anything done through his ever-present thoughts of you. He tries to remain hopeful, that somehow this will all work out. That on Monday you’ll come to work, and everything will be alright.

Monday morning, he finds out you’ve put in a request to join a separate project.

He doesn’t know what to do with the growing hole forming in his chest.

And neither do you.

~

part two part three part four 

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

There’s No Future Without You - AUgust Day 22

Title: There’s No Future Without You

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: n/a

Square Filled: O5: RiRi Williams for @ironhusbandsbingo

Pair: Rhodey/Tony

Link: Read on AO3

Written for: @fightingforcreativity​

Summary: Rhodey gets sent forward in time by this week's villain. He is able to return home with the help of an AI and an avid fan.

+++++++++

Fuck. I wasn’t fast enough! Rhodey thinks as he tumbles through the portal. Falling out on the other side, he stands to catch his bearings. He’s on the same street corner, but things just look… different. People are walking the streets, but their faces look digital.

 He checks his suit’s availability. HUD is working, repulsors are working, GPS? Connecting to satellites. If this is New York, where’s Stark Tower? Why are there so many huge buildings in place of what he’s used to? Was he put through a time portal? Flying straight up in the air, he quickly locates Stark Tower. Landing on the landing pad, Rhodey walks toward the doors. The familiar whine of a repulsor makes him turn. He sees an Iron Man suit built for someone much smaller than Tony.

“Who are you? And how did you get a hold of the old War Machine armor?” The modulated voice sounds feminine.

 Rhodey holds up his hands and lets the helmet retract. “Hi, please don’t shoot? Can you tell me what year this is?”

 “2080. Who are you?” “This is going to sound crazy, but I am James Rhodes, the original owner of this suit. I was fighting a villain, and they sent me through a portal. I guess it was a time portal because I’m from 2019.”

 The suit lowers its repulsors, but the voice doesn’t sound convinced. “Follow me.” It says, then mutters. “If anyone would know, it’d be him.”

 Rhodey is led into a room that had definitely not been in the tower in 2019. “Hey T,” the voice in the armor says, “do you know this dude?”

 A hologram shivers into place, a direct replica of Tony. How the-. “Yes. That’s Rhodey!” The Tony-hologram crows. “I told you he’d find us.” He tells the suit triumphantly. “Rhodey, meet Riri Williams. She’s Ironheart. Riri, meet my bestest friend in the whole wide world, James “Rhodey” Rhodes.”

 The suit opens up, and a young black woman steps out. “Can I just say that you are like my hero?” She gushes. “We learned about you in school and everything. And then Tony has been telling me about you, too. You’re the reason I created this armor.”

“Uhm… thank you?” Rhodey scratches the back of his neck. “So, Tony, is this like your consciousness coded into an AI?”

 “Unfortunately, no.” The AI Tony replies. “Tony created me after you went through the portal. Using Extremis, he crafted me. I have many of his memories, but I am not him. He passed some time ago. I’ve been helping Riri ever since.”

 Rhodey’s heart sinks. He wishes that Tony were here with him.  Tony is his lifeline, just like he is Tony’s. He doesn’t want to be here; he wants to get home. “Can I get back to my time?” He questions.

 Tony makes that sound that he does when he sucks on his teeth. “Hmm, I don’t know. We’d have to figure out how you got here. I don’t know anything about time travel.”

 “You’re welcome to stay here until we figure it out.” Riri bubbles. “I’ll get a room ready for you.” As she walks off, Rhodey hears her squeal. “I met Colonel Rhodes today!”

 Rhodey turns to AI Tony, who shrugs. “Yea, maybe I got a little carried away, you know?”

 “Typical Tony?” Rhodey grins and hold out his fist to pump. AI Tony pumps back but his hand goes through Rhodey’s arm.

 “Sorry, don’t have a corporeal form.” AI Tony smirks.

 Speaking of corporeal forms, Rhodey remembers the people he saw on the sidewalk. “What is up with people’s faces now?” He asks.

 “Does my face look bad?” AI Tony’s hands come up to his face.

 “No, no, it’s just… everyone seems to have like a digital face.”

 AI Tony opens his mouth like an O. “Ohhh, you mean the face screens? A new inventor made them and sold them at a relatively good price. Basically, everyone has one now. Instead of wearing makeup or getting plastic surgery, you can just make your face look exactly how you want it. Large steps in the beauty industry.”

 “What else can people do?” Rhodey is intrigued by the technology of the future.

 AI Tony shifts. “Well, I can give myself a body, if I want. They found a clean fuel that powers all vehicles. Also, most people don’t drive anywhere anymore. Not sure why, but they say it’s a good thing.”

 Rhodey opens his suit and steps out. Walking around AI Tony’s hologram, he asks. “Do you want a body?”

 “Only if they could make me with my exact dimensions and everything. I don’t need to be seven feet tall; you know. I’m a bit fussy with my looks. You can’t blame me, I was HOT.”

 Rhodey nods begrudgingly. “You’re not wrong there. Where are the places that build bodies?”

 “Aw Rhodey, you’re so sweet.” AI Tony “cups” Rhodey’s jaw. “We can probably manufacture it right here. But how do you know?”

 “Other than dick size, I can give you adjustments for the old Tony based off of my height.”

 AI Tony claps his hands. “Excellent. Let me show take you to the room.” Rhodey is left to follow the hologram down the halls.

 Once he figures out Tony’s height and width and plugs them into the machine, AI Tony tells him that the process will take 24 hours. “In the meantime, how about you get some rest. I believe RiRi is finished with your room.”

 Rhode slept well in the bed, but it’s nothing like his mattress at home. His mattress at home is worn down. It also is more likely than not holding not only Rhodey but also Tony. Tony used to slide in when he had bad dreams, and Rhodey would cuddle him. Those nights were bittersweet, but Rhodey loved them just the same.

 Twenty-four hours later, AI Tony’s body is created. He spends a half-hour transferring himself into the body. When he’s done, he offers to take Rhodey on the tour of the city. He suggests showing RiRi and him the exact spot he portalled in case something would help figure out how he tine travelled.

 When they don’t find anything, RiRi tells them she has to go on a mission, and she doesn’t know how long it will take. AI Tony pats her shoulder and advises her that he and Rhodey will keep each other company.

 RiRi has been gone for a few weeks now, checking in nightly. AI Tony and Rhodey are spending all their time together, growing closer and closer daily. Rhodey knows that he’s definitely in love with his time’s Tony. When he mentions this to AI Tony in a moment of truth, the AI grabs his arms and says, “When you get back, tell that to him. His worst regret in life was not being able to save you.”

 Rhodey hugs the AI, holding back tears. “I really hope I can get back. I really miss him. You’re great and all, but…” He trails off.

“I’m not him.” AI Tony finishes sadly. “I get it, don’t worry.” Rhodey lays his head on the humanoid’s shoulder, and they sit in silence.

 RiRi returns two days later. “Rhodey, I think I can send you home!” She jumps up and down happily. “You don’t understand how awesome it is for me to be able to help out my hero. I had to go pretty far to get this type of crystal. My friend wizard is coming over shortly to send you back. Say your goodbyes quickly.” “RiRi, you are amazing. I am forever in your debt!” Rhodey pulls her in for a hug. “I just have to go find Tony.”

 Rhodey finds the AI in the server room, adding some lines of code. “Hey, RiRi found a way to send me home.”

 “I heard.” AI Tony smiles sadly. “I’m happy for you. I will miss you, but I’m happy.”

 “Can I try something?” Rhodey bites his lip. “I’m gonna tell Tony when I get home, but can I kiss you? I don’t want to be awkward when I finally kiss him.”

 AI Tony nods, and Rhodey leans in to kiss him. It’s tentative at first, but quickly grows deeper. When Rhodey pulls away, he doesn’t notice the AI wiping away a tear. “Thank you,” Rhodey says sincerely, “for everything.”

 RiRi’s wizard friend arrives, and Rhodey gets back in the War Machine armor. A few chants and the waving of the crystal, and a portal opens. Rhodey waves back at them, then steps through. He lands on his feet on the landing deck of Stark Tower. Walking inside, he finds Tony in his lab.

 “Rhodey! You came back!” Tony breathes. “I hoped you would!”

 “Tony. I love you. More than a friend. Like romantic love and all that. I should have told you long ago, but I was afraid my feelings wouldn’t be returned.” Rhodey stops for a breath of air.

 Tony takes the pause as an opportunity to jump into Rhodey’s arms and kiss him soundly. Rhodey chuckles. “I’m taking that as an ‘I love you, too.’”

 “Your deduction skills are perfect.” Tony laughs.

 ++++++

AI Tony stands alone in the server room. He had known from the very beginning that Rhodey was not his to keep. But Tony had hoped, foolishly human of him.

 Sighing, he turns, preparing to leave the room, his former home, behind to face the world. Except a panel opens which he hadn't been able to open before.

 "Hey Tones, be so nice and get me a body on my own," intones Rhodey's voice from the speakers, and AI Tony sees the code that make up his friend, his fellow AI, his lover. Finally, the last firewall preventing him to remember disappears, and he remembers how Tony got Rhodey back and how he as AI had been put to sleep with the promise of never have to be alone.

[fuckinuchihas]

Cut The Love You Pieces Out of Me

KONOHAMARU X READER

NOT RATED-WILL PROBABLY END UP EXPLICIT

PART TWO

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Injury to Reader, Embarrassed Reader, Uzumaki relation implied of Reader, more to be added later I’m sure.

If I’ve forgotten anything be sure to let me know!

PART ONE

You’re cut heals over the next day or so, your leg still isn’t in any kind of running condition but you can walk on it without crying so you push forward. The quicker you get back to Konoha the better. 

He doesn’t know he’s doing it but fuck, Konohamaru is a goddamn tease and for once you wish you had Kunochi friends to vent with about him. He’s doted on you for the better part of a week now and as if that wasn’t enough to get your heart to do funny things, he seems to have also adopted the civilian clothing thing and it’s...well it’s not unflattering. 

He wears a number of pale shirts so of course the universe decides to smack you in the face with rainstorms that mean his clothes are clinging to him like a second skin. His muscles flex through the material and your eyes track it no matter how many times you force yourself to look away.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t already looked at you with those big sad eyes and told you it’s never going to happen. He’s probably waiting until you get back to Konoha so that it’s not even more awkward than it has been for the rest of the trip. 

Ugh, you’re worked up and frustrated and you can’t even let it out by sparring because of your stupid leg.

You finally start to give out, your leg was done a mile back but you pushed ahead anyway. Now you’re paying for it so you tug on his sleeve and he nods in understanding.

It’s easy for you to set the barriers now, your chakra is nearly full capacity given that you haven’t used it for much except dealing with your injury. So you quickly send up the sealing jutsu that you crafted into a specialty all your own, and you will rest easily knowing you’re safe.

After the fire is built and the bedrolls are in place you feel a little tingle in the back of your neck and you smile sadly. “How do you feel about venison for dinner?” 

He looks at you and grins, wide and open, “That would be amazing, I haven’t had- 

*CRACK* 

You drop your hand that had been making a twisting motion just a moment earlier and close your eyes, “Thank you for your sacrifice, rest in peace.” 

“Did you just-” 

“It’s a quarter mile that way, if you want to lug it back I can prepare it but with my leg as bad as it is now, I can’t go after it,” you say, pointing in the direction where the young buck gave its life. 

He nods happily and takes off through the trees. 

You turn your head and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall.

You don’t like killing, not animals or ninja, but you’ll do it when the job calls for it. 

These tears though, are a little bit of everything. Sadness over the last moment of holding that buck’s neck in your hands, petting it softly with your chakra before twisting its neck. Then there’s the emotions you’ve been holding in for the past few days that also escape out with the rest.

You’re able to track every movement within the barrier so you make sure there’s no evidence of your tears by the time he makes it back to camp. Instead you put on a bright smile and welcome him back with gusto. It probably sounds a little fake but for all that he is, and he is quite a many wonderful things, Konohamaru can still be pretty oblivious on the day to day. So you hope he doesn’t see it and comfort yourself with the reassuring truth that a lot of more obvious things have slipped his notice. 

He’s more than happy to do the grunt work on preparing dinner so you nod in agreement and mention lying down for a nap.

He stands guard as he works even if he doesn’t really need to.

You can’t sleep despite the monumental effort you’re putting in. Your mind keeps wandering back to the way he picked you up so effortlessly. You shiver at the memory of his biceps curled protectively around your thighs and back. You bite back a moan when your brain draws up the way his jaw clenched as your arms wrapped around his neck. 

It’s enough to drive you to distraction and beyond. You want nothing more than to get some alone time but if you ask for it while in camp it would be suspicious. Potentially you could send him after water when he finishes with the deer but then you’ll have to cook the meat and watch the fire so there’s little opportunity for you to take care of yourself in those following moments either. 

You doubt he’ll let you use the bath in the lake excuse again, not with how it ended last time, which is fair but still frustrating. 

Maybe if you’re really quiet… 

No, no… you can’t. He’s a ninja with excellent hearing and no matter how quiet you attempt to be, it is practically impossible for you to stay completely silent.

You groan in annoyance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, softly whispering your name as he moves closer to your bedroll.

“Fine. I’m just having a little trouble sleeping,” you say, hoping he will back away and leave you alone. With as worked up as you’ve managed to get yourself, one look from those big bright eyes and you’ll be lost.

“Oh, I see. Well if there’s anything I can do just let me know,” he says, and you could choke on the sincerity. 

Instead you let out a strangled laugh and rub at your tired eyes. “I’ll be sure to let you know if any ideas come to mind,” you lie, because you know exactly how he can help you sleep but you refuse to ask it. Not that it would matter much anyway, if he did it you’d only be able to add it to the neverending list of ways you’ve been a burden to him on this godforsaken mission. 

Three years, countless successful assignments, nearly every moment you were a consummate professional and yet less than a week by his side and you’ve proven to be nothing but another useless kunoichi. 

You don’t buy into that whole women are useless in the field ideology but there are always a couple that prove the stereotype true, it’s never you, has never been you before. 

You absolutely hate that it’s you when you’re with him. 

It’s not like you imagined things turning out in some daydream fantasy, that would be stupid and a waste of valuable time. However, the moment you saw his potential, the fire in his eyes, the raw something that he held above all others, you wanted. You ached with it in ways you’d never experienced but since that moment you’ve done nothing but cause him trouble and how would a man like that ever look at you twice if he had to spend the days you have together playing nursemaid. 

“You seem to be miles away...homesick?” he asks, coming closer still.

He’s snuck up on you while you were reliving your self loathing spiel. 

How rude of him. 

“Sort of,” you say, because you certainly can’t tell the whole truth. Though it’s not exactly a lie, you miss the you from before you knew him.

“Ah, I know what this is. You have someone special waiting for you back home that you miss, right?” he asks, smiling brightly. 

He’s completely unaffected by the idea of someone waiting for you. 

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

It hurts bad, the pain in your chest feels like a boulder sitting on top of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it..” You lie, and turn over to keep the tears from falling where he can see them. “Don’t forget to keep the organs. We’ll leave them to feed some of the local animals before we move on.” 

You swallow hard, grateful that you kept your voice steady and even despite your emotions.

Thankfully he takes the hint and leaves you to your depression burrito. 

At least you don’t have to worry about the sexual frustration anymore. 

~~~~~!!~~~~~

When you wake up to cook the meat, Konohamaru is quiet. You’re almost concerned that something happened but when you ask he just waves you off and says he’s just looking forward to the meal. You offer him a granola bar and a couple food pills, to your surprise he actually takes them and then thanks you politely. 

He goes for a swim/bath and gathers some fresh water from the lake. It’s quiet without him but when he gets back that doesn’t change and you start to feel a little on edge. 

He must realize he’s acting weird when you pass him a bowl because he smiles and tries to keep conversation but you can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes and it makes something slimy slither around in your stomach. 

What could have possibly happened while you slept? 

“I know you say everything is okay and I believe you, I do but if you wanted someone to talk to...well I’m your very own one woman captive audience,” you grin, teasing him a little as you try to poke at his cracking facade. 

He leans back on his hands, arms flexing as he stares off into the distance, oblivious to your eyes tracking the clenching of his biceps. 

‘Fuck, no...focus bitch,’ you tell yourself in your mind. 

“Oh I forgot to mention that you don’t owe me another question,” he says, as if it just randomly occurred to him and also as if you hadn’t just spoken to him before. Did he miss the interaction entirely? 

“Okay, how did I manage that...you didn’t ask me anything in my sleep did you,” you say, eyeing him skeptically. 

“No no, I uh, it’s just you answered the other question I had, that’s all..” 

You frown in confusion and your feel your mouth pull to a slight pout. “And when exactly did I answer your big number three?”

He’s turned away from you, reaching for his bowl that he’d sat down to warm his hands by the fire, “I was just going to ask if you were single, but of course you’re not. That wouldn’t make sense at all..I guess I should have thought of something better huh?” he says, scratching his head as he turns back, the slightest pink tinge on his cheeks. 

You blink at him.

He’s not-surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying…

You must have misheard. 

But what if…?

You clear your throat, nerves fluttering wildly in your belly. “Why would you care about that?” 

“Oh no reason,” he says, stuffing his mouth full of venison as he looks at anything that isn’t you. 

“I’m not, you know...I um, I kinda lied earlier,” you admit, because you just can’t let yourself take the chance that he was actually interested and you let him believe a lie to get away from it. “I just didn’t want to explain where my mind was at, y’know? It was kinda personal and I reacted. I’m sorry...you deserve the truth.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I get it,” he says, and this time he looks at you wide eyed and the smile on his lips grows wider until it actually reaches his eyes and you can’t help the way your heart goes rabbit fast against your ribs. 

“What about you… do you uh, have anyone waiting back in Konoha?” you ask, because you’re a glutton for punishment. If you’ve read this entire situation wrong you’re going to be mortified and the chances are still slim that he actually wants you, for more than some fun anyway. 

“Not really, there’s not very many kunoichi who are my type,” he says softly, like it’s kind of a secret. 

You laugh. “Oh? And what’s your type exactly?” 

You assume whatever he’s going to say next will be laughable. You’ve heard that phrase a million times over but they all still end up wanting something you’re not. Blonde, brunette, skinny, short, smart; hell even strong, which you actually managed to convince yourself you were, at least until he showed up. 

“Comfortable,” he says, and you’re thrown. 

Surprised would be an understatement in the moment.

“Comfortable?” you ask, cause clearly you’re confused. What kind of girl would be ‘comfortable’ to him? 

“I don’t really know how to describe it, I guess it’s just something I know when I see it,” he answers, and nods his head as if he’s affirming it to himself. 

“Oh that clears it up,” you say sarcastically. Are you his type or not? You’d like to think you’re ‘comfortable’ but mostly only because he hasn’t heard your internal monologue. “Like...comforting?” you ask, because that’s so not your thing, not really. 

“I mean, that’s nice too I guess, but it wasn’t what I meant...I could- I could show you,” he says, rushing through the rest of his dinner as if it's his last meal. 

“Umm...sure I guess,” you say, ‘I have a pencil and some pages..” 

“No- I,” he starts, swallows and tries again. “Just...can I come a little closer?” 

He looks nervous and that should probably put you on edge but you trust him implicitly. After everything he’s done for you over the last few days, it's the least you could give him in return. “Sure.”

He smiles directly at you over the flickering campfire and you feel your heart thump thump irregularly. You chuckle to hide the awkwardness when he moves closer. 

He sits down beside you where you’re leaned against the tree for support and he’s so close, his face is right there and your hands itch to do something, anything. 

You stop yourself before they can actually reach up, thankfully. 

But then the next thing you know his head is cradled in your lap and he’s smiling up at you. 

“Like this...comfortable.” 

You narrow your gaze but there’s no heat in it, “Someone who’s fat?” you ask, and immediately regret it. 

His face scrunches up, “I don’t like that word and you’re not, for the record; not even by civilian standards,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re strong and healthy.” 

It’s impossible to hold back the snort and you grin down at him. “You sure you didn’t hit your head back there somewhere?” you ask, because he’s obviously being ridiculous and if it were anyone else you’d be worried about hidden agendas, but Konohamaru is like the most sincere, most kind person you’ve ever met. No way would he betray the bond you’ve started. 

“You got injured, that happens to all of us. It doesn’t make you weak- Actually if it weren’t for you I might not be here,” he says softly. “That ninja...he was a lot stronger than I am. If you hadn’t sealed him I don’t know that we could have won that fight.” 

You find it hard to swallow, but you force down the lump in your throat. You breathe out a shaky exhale before you slowly start to card your fingers through his hair. “Thank you, I-I know I  haven’t been of much use since the fight but I am grateful that you recognize my strength anyway.” 

He shakes his head but when you pull your hand away he takes it gently in his own and puts it back on the soft, still damp strands of his hair. “That wasn’t meant to be discouraging...this is nice,” he says, back in that softer tone before he goes to a normal speaking voice. “You’ve done twice or three times what most shinobi would in your place.”

You don’t know how to take his compliments. They make you feel warm and flush all over but you don’t want to let on so you go back to your comfort zone. “Yeah, well that’s not exactly a compliment. Most men are useless when they’re injured,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips after the words tumble out. 

He laughs along, “We really are..” he says, and you’re both pleased and surprised he agrees with you so quickly. 

You lay there in lazy, quiet comfort for a while before you finally speak up again. 

“So when you say comfortable…” you start, biting your lip a bit as the nerves flutter wildly under your skin. “You mean someone like me?” 

Konohamaru just nods, you can feel his head move in your lap, feel the direction of it under your fingertips but you need more. 

“I need more,” you say, unable to hold it in any longer. “If this is-If I’m someone you want, I need more than a type. I want you to think about it, Konohamaru because I don’t want to scare you or add pressure but if that’s what you want, you should also know that I need more than tonight.” 

He sits up and you start to pull away but he grabs gently at your wrist to keep you from getting too far. “Hey,” he says, pulling you back making sure to lift you gently off the ground so there’s no added pressure to your leg. He whispers your name softly as his thumb brushes against your lower lip. “I’m willing to work for it, to prove myself to you.” 

“And what if I think you are unworthy,” you say, your lip trembling under the tip of his finger. You’re also particularly convinced you’re dreaming and scared he’s going to disappear right in front of you. 

“Oh I have no doubt you will, but I’m hoping that won’t stop you from accepting me.” 

Definitely dreaming….was the venison drugged?

“Okay, well...I uh, I should get to bed. You take the first watch, okay?” you ask, but don’t give him time to answer before making a mad dash, or as close to one you can get on one leg toward your bedroll and quickly fake being asleep. 

“We’ll reach Konoha tomorrow, I intend to take you out after you’ve recuperated. I would really appreciate it if you’d clear some time out of your schedule for that,” he says, with all the confidence and cockiness you’ve come to love.

You let out a fake snore but it’s not convincing if the way he laughs at you is anything to go by. 

Your cheeks burn inside your bedroll that’s pulled over your head as you quietly smile a soft, excited grin. 

You really hope this isn’t a dream, but if it is...you don’t want to wake up.

-UPDATED- READ ALL 4 CHAPTERS ON A03

[starstaiined]

Would You Lie With Me & Just Forget The World?

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: The world is a dangerous place. It can be big, scary, and almost overwhelmingly dark. But despite all the negative aspects, despite all the pain and turmoil, Katherine Howard has always found a brief reprieve in the other queens. Particularly, in her older cousin. (And as loathe as they are to admit it, the other queens have to agree with her.) Anne Boleyn can be chaotic, wild, and reckless  … but she’s also passionate, kind, and effervescent. Her boundless energy acts as a barrier against the bad in the world. But when that barrier breaks and the world turns on its head, can Kat manage to navigate the turbulent waters without her cousin by her side?  

CHAPTER ONE // 

TW: Implied abuse/neglect, Implied sexual abuse, Panic Attack, Car crash 

A/N: sorry this chapter took so long! I ended up having to trim parts out and it isn’t as smooth as I was hoping for, but this is one of the rougher chapters to set up because of all the background. (I’m setting this in my own AU verse/idea that I’m still writing up the lore for, if anyone wants to hmu for that feel free!) 

TAGGING: @the10amongstthese3s  @radcowboyalmondtree  @tonight-we-are-live  @the-queen-bee-is-here  @everything-insanity  @whoufflewhovian200311  (if you want to be added, just reply to this post, send me an ask, or hit up my ims! these are the people I know who were interested!) 

“Annie, I’m scared.” 

Anne froze, the almost inaudible admission tugging at her heart. She climbed down from the garage roof as easily as she’d climbed up. “You don’t need to be scared, Kit. I’ve got you, okay? Just trust me.” Anne smiled mischievously, shooting her brightest gap toothed grin at her cousin.

Kitty visibly relaxed, and Anne showed Kitty how to use the materials lining the side of the building to get to the top. (After it, it wasn’t more than a few feet in the air.) But as ordinary as the view may have been, it was extraordinary because they were there together. 

Anne dropped to book bag she’d brought with her, unrolling the blanket and wrapping it around Kat’s shoulders. “Can’t let the birthday girl get too cold now, can I?” She asked with a teasing grin. She reached into the bookbag, unaware of the surprise on her cousin’s face. She handed Kat some silly plushie she picked up at the store, and a (terribly smashed) attempt at a cupcake. 

“You...you remembered?” Kat asked, looking down at the presents her cousin gave her as if they were the greatest thing in the world. The genuine shock in her voice startled Anne. 

“Of course I did Kit...why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday your favorite cousin turns seven, after all.” 

“Dad and the boys sometimes forget...” Kitty attempted to appear nonchalant, although it was obvious she was upset. 

“They do what?” Anne growled, and Kitty flinched away at the change in her voice. Not now, Anne chided herself, using every ounce of teenage self restraint she had in order to plaster on the cheesiest grin she could muster. “I’m sure they’re just...planning a surprise or something.” 

“Maybe.” Kat mumbled, but it was clear she didn’t believe it. 

They sat in silence, before Anne’s lips curved back into their usual grin. She nudged her younger cousin. “Why don’t you spend the night? We can play board games and watch movies. I’ll even let you-oh.”

She’d been cut off mid sentence by a hug, and found Katherine peering up at her. “You’re the bestest, Annie! I love you.” The younger girl’s face shone with excitement that hadn’t been there moments earlier. 

Anne couldn’t help but mirror that joy. She ruffled Kit’s hair, laughing at the expression it produced. “I love you too, Kit. And I’m here for you. Always.” 

But their short moment was cut short as her father’s voice echoed up from the ground down below. “ANNE BOLEYN, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! THE LAST THING WE NEED IS YOUR POOR HABITS RUBBING OFF ON LITTLE KATHER-” 

And with that, Anne woke with a start. She damn near fell off her bed with a yell, catching herself last minute and blinking sleep out of her eyes. The other side of the bed was empty. Thank god. It meant Kat had slept with Jane instead, and she hadn’t accidently interrupted what little sleep the girl managed to get. Anne flopped back down on her bed with a sigh. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, energy buzzing in her exhausted muscles demanding that she get moving. She glanced at the alarm clock. 6:03 A.M. 

Well, that was as good a time as any to start the day, wasn’t it? She rolled out of bed, quietly, and made her way to the bathroom. She ran through her usual morning routines : brushing her teeth, throwing her hair up in a tight bun, changing out of her pajamas and into running gear. By six thirty, she was ready to run. With her headphones fixed firmly in her ears and music blasting, she let her muscles guide her. The song playing pulled up another memory, a little fuzzy around the edges but still soft enough to pull a smile from her. 

Family Christmas parties, everybody’s favorite time. Except not really. Anne dealt with it as best she could, which was ignoring damn near everyone and doing her own thing. She was choreographing a dance routine to a song that had just come out, earbuds in and focus completely on the movement of each muscle in time with the beat. Which is why she didn’t notice George until it was too late. He slammed into her side roughly, knocking her off her feet and sending her sliding across the floor. Anne stared slack jawed for a moment, recovering her breath, before yelling “What the fuck George!” 

“Careful Ninon, don’t let dear old dad hear you using that language.” George answered with a smirk, towering over her. The gleam in his eyes made it clear he was in one of his moods, which meant Anne was in for it. If there was one thing George excelled at, it was pushing her buttons. 

“Why don’t you go bother Mary for once?”

“Because Mary’s actually socializing with the family, unlike you.”

“Sorry, not sorry, but I’m trying to have fun. I’m not interested in being judged for stupid reasons, okay? I just want to be left alone.” 

“Don’t want to be judged, don’t give them reasons to judge you. It’s simple, really.” George answered with a shrug. “Besides, considering your …. reputation I don’t think they’re stupid reas-” 

“I don’t really care about your opinion, George.” Anne snapped, face immediately heating up. She pushed herself to her feet, taking a couple steps away from him. “Maybe you should shut up.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a sl-” He didn’t get to finish that thought as a pink blur knocked into his legs. It caught him off guard; he flailed his arms wildly to no avail and ended up tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass. Anne blinked in surprise. George pushed himself to his feet quickly, visibly seething. “What the fuck!” 

Ten year old Katherine Howard, about two feet shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, didn’t break eye contact with George from where she’d positioned herself; she stood directly in front of Anne as if she were a human shield. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” She deadpanned. 

“Brat.” George hissed, pointing a finger at the young girl menacingly. 

Kat just shrugged, but she could feel her hands trembling. “Takes one to know one, right?” 

Anne laughed, making her brother’s face flush six different shades of red. George, thoroughly humiliated and beyond angry, stormed off. Almost immediately Kat’s shoulders deflated. Anne pulled her younger cousin into a side hug. “KitKat, you are my hero.” 

“We’re family.” Kat answered back, her voice muffled by Anne’s shoulder. “We always protect each other, don’t we?” 

Anne smiled. “We do.” 

The memory faded. The burning in her muscles, and the unfamiliarity in her surroundings, made it clear she’d gotten lost in her head longer than she’d meant to. Crap. It took her nearly an hour to find her way back. She made a beeline straight for the fridge once she did. She gave the calendar a quick glance as she opened the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice, before doing a double take. 

November 4th. Kitty’s birthday was less than a week away! How in the hell had that happened? Anne was usually on top of these things, but between the interviews and the show and her work on choreo...she could feel guilt flooding her system. Shit. She wracked her brain, trying to remember whether or not Kitty had been acting strange recently. She’d seemed a little lethargic but Anne had chalked that up to being overworked with the show…

She didn’t think twice. She rushed up to Cleves room, flinging the door open in a panic as she shook the other girl. “Anna!” She hissed, voice low but pressing. “Anna, wake up!”

“Anne…?” Anna asked groggily. “What time is it…” 

“It’s eight.”

“What are you doing up? We didn’t go to bed until almost tw-”

“Shh, that doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to the store. Do you want to come?” 

Anne’s voice brimmed with urgency, but Anna was too tired to register it. She buried herself deeper into her blankets. “With your driving? No thank you, Miss Boleyn, I choose life.” She waved a hand dismissively, eyes never so much as cracking open. The warmth of her bed was too enticing. 

Anne heaved a sigh, but accepted Anna’s answer. She ran to the kitchen, scribbled a quick note on a post it, and attached it to the fridge. 

Need to run some errands. Urgent. Be back later. XO, Anne. 

And with that she disappeared through the door, the orange juice still sitting forgotten on the counter. 

The shopping went quickly. Or well, as quickly as it could go when Anne Boleyn was involved. She spent hours loading her cart with Kitty’s favorite snacks and movies, picked up random little knick knacks that she thought Kitty might like. (Hell, she even managed to find some cute presents for the rest of the queens.) Brimming with excitement about her haul, and eager to show it to the others, Anne was in a phenomenal mood when she hopped back in the car. She was jamming along to every song coming over the radio, grinning from ear to ear. 

The buzzing of her phone on the seat next to her snapped Anne out of her private karaoke concert. It was probably just Kat calling to check up on her. She could feel warmth spreading through her chest as she let out a breathless giggle, turning down the music and running a quick hand through her hair. She found Kitty’s worry endearing, although she half wished Kitty would realize that Anne would be fine. After all, she always was. 

She half debated it letting it ring to voicemail, just until she could answer without taking her hands off the wheel. That was….until the name on the caller ID caught her attention. 

THOMAS HOWARD.

Suddenly, all the mirth she’d felt drained out of her like air out of a popped balloon. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle in YEARS. The last time she’d seen him was the day that she had left, Kitty tucked under one arm and spare clothes under the other. He made good on his promise to ostracize both of them.

Kitty’s head is buried in the crook of her neck, tears staining the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” Kitty chokes out between sobs, barely comprehensible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Anne, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

Anne could feel a storm building beneath her skin, aching to break free and wreck every single person that had driven her cousin to this. SHE WAS A CHILD! But over the last few years, Anne had watched the light drain from her eyes. She was just kicking herself for not realizing what was going on earlier… But she can’t focus on that. Not right now. Instead she rubs soothing circles on Katherine’s back, rocking the girl back and forth. “It isn’t your fault, Kit.” Emotion rubbed her voice raw, and it takes everything in her not to cry. “None of it is. Not a damn thing. Do you hear me? Not a single damn thing.” 

If anything, that just seems to make Kat cry harder. “It is, it is Annie. I know it, and he knew it, and, and, and everyone knows it.” She’s cut off by a sob that shakes her frail shoulders. “He knew it, he said it, he-”

“He’s a piece of shit, Kit! I’m sorry, but it’s true. Your dad sucks. I wish it weren’t true, I wish you could’ve had the life you deserve. Somewhere far away from this bullshit.” Anne croaked out, a few silent tears falling as she fought to maintain a steady voice. “But you didn’t get that, instead life gave you a crappy hand and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. But I can promise you one thing.” Anne tucked Kitty’s head under her chin. “I know it isn’t much, but I’m here for you. Always. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m right here. And I’m always going to be right here, okay?” 

With a few sniffling breaths, Kitty nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, she held out a hand with her pinkie extended. In a small voice, she asked, “Pinkie promise?” 

Anne was all too happy to link their fingers. “Pinkie promise.” 

They made themselves more comfortable in the living room, still a tangle of limbs but this time a tangle of limbs under a blanket. Before drifting off to sleep, Kitty squeezed Anne’s hand. “Annie?” She asked, drowsily. 

“Hm?” 

“Earlier...earlier you said that you weren’t much...but you are. Okay? You’re the best. And I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Anne squeezed her hand gently three times. I love you. “Don’t worry KitKat, you’ll never have to find out.” 

Anne’s thoughts flashed to every time since then that Kitty’s tears staining the collar of her shirt, to the way the poor girl had trembled from nightmares that stole her breath. She remembered rushing out on errands like this, doing anything and everything to pull a smile out of her cousin, who spent the week leading up to her birthday WISHING for that call from the rest of the family. Thomas Howard failed as a father consistently over the past two years, and there’s almost no one Anne hates more. (When she thinks of him, all she can see is Kat trembling, crying out my fault, my fault, my fault. Just thinking about it makes her jaw clench.) Even now, in what she assumes is an attempt to make amends, he was calling her and not Kitty!

She reached over, answering it swiftly and bringing it to her ear. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, I need you to shut the hell up for two seconds and listen to me, Thomas.”  Anger boiled in her veins and sharpened her tongue, but blurred everything else. In the haze of her own hatred, her focus on the phone pressed to her ear, she missed the truck that was swerving on a path directly towards her.

[docholligay]

Touch prompt, "after an argument," for Avital

WOW DID I SPEND A BUNCH OF TIME ON THIS ONE. We may argue, i suppose, that it’s a waste of time, given that it’s a third string character in my less popular universe, but I enjoyed myself, so, there is that. I actually like this enough I may add it to my canon! 2,500 words, roughly. Italics are Arabic. 

“You have absolutely no reason to deny me this.” Avital’s eyes burned as she looked across the table at her mother. “You’re being completely obstructive for no reason I can bloody well think of.” 

“I said the matter was closed, Avital.” Pharah looked back down at the chicken on her plate. “You will not go. That, is that.” 

Avital tossed her fork down on her plate. “Ridiculous, you are. Let’s take an accounting. I’m prefect, I have excellent marks, I don’t get into trouble, I am,” she gestured, looking for something, her face turning a bit pink, “INCREDIBLY responsible, Mum! Also, I’ve been on a class trip before! What could possibly be your reasoning? If it’s about the money, I can earn it.” 

“If it were about the money, your uncle would be giving it to you.” Mercy did not look up from her plate. 

She loved her wife, and she loved her daughter, with a power and strength that she couldn’t have possibly realized could come from her. It was never duty, to love them, but always joy. They were both intelligent, strong, capable women, born leaders with steel in their spines. Mercy never worried about either of them simply going along with things, of just following orders. They did not fear any judgment but their own, which was the harshest mistress. She was proud of them. She was in awe of them. 

She absolutely loathed when they fought. 

For it was all true that they were intelligent, strong, and capable, but they were also both so bull-headed and intractable, when they took to an idea, that it might be easier to separate the salt from the sea, than to talk them out of being right. She much preferred when they agreed, for the quiet of it if nothing else. 

Pharah glanced over at Mercy and her helpful statement and shook her head. “I am your mother. “ 

“Totalitarian regime, then? That is literally what your approach is going to be? Really?” Her face was going from pink to red, her jaw beginning to set. “You’re supposed to be a woman of logic, and rationale, and--Mutti, you can’t agree with this.” 

Mercy sighed. “When we were having you, we agreed, if one of us felt very strongly, we would be giving our support. I wanted to raise you Jewishly--” 

“Shutting down any kind of debate on the issue is not raising me Jewishly.” 

“Avi,” Mercy set her hand on Avital’s, “I know it can be hard understanding--”

“No!” Avital pulled her hand away and stood up, pointing her finger at her mother. “I have a right to understand why you think I don’t deserve this! You’re being completely ridiculous, and I deserve a fucking answer! I’m not one of your soldiers who just goes where you want her to go, I’m almost a fucking adult--” 

“Oh, you think you are an adult, that might be true.” 

“Don’t DISMISS me, God,” she stepped back from the table, “ I can’t stand when you do this, this, shut down thing that you think implies strength, but you know what? It only shows the obvious weakness of your position.” 

“Well luckily, this is a totalitarian regime, and dictators don’t need--” 

“Enough!” Mercy cried out, hands folded in her lap. “Please.” 

They both loved Mercy more than they were angry at each other, and so, for a moment, the storm calmed. Avital stepped away from the table. 

“I won’t be doing the tidying tonight.” She pushed in her chair and headed up the stairs to her bedroom without another word, back straight, steps clear. 

Mercy turned to Pharah. “You should be telling her. I know, you have--” 

“Angela.”

“She’s right. You are being unfair, and expecting her to not to wonder.” Mercy set down her fork. “She is a very good daughter, Fareeha. You and I? Are spoiled.” 

Mercy got up from the table, walked into the kitchen, and left Pharah sitting there alone.

___

Avital paced around her bedroom, trying to quell her fury. Anger was not a friend, anger made it hard for a person to focus, to think, to act, and yet, as she thought those things, she heard her mother saying them, which only raised the flame higher. 

She should go stay with Uncle WInston. He would let her, even running the risk of making her mother angry. She flopped a bag onto the bed, and then immediately dismissed the childishness of it. To what point and purpose? To stay over at his house for a few days, and then come home, with nothing changed? 

Avital sat down on her bed, brow furrowed and leaned forward onto her knees. She had always respected Pharah. When she was a child, she had desperately wanted to be just like her. Her mother was a logical woman, who thought things through carefully, to the point where her Aunt Hana would tease her about having a pro and con list to order lunch. She rarely tried to hide things from Avital. Even when she had been very young, she had navigated difficult questions along with her. 

Her parents had always been so keen on understanding and wisdom, and now she was being treated as if she had no right to her own life. 

Tears stung her eyes. What was it about Germany that made her so angry? Pharah had happily allowed her to go up to Scotland, to France. She’d sent her to spend a few weeks in Canada, in Egypt, and those were much further than she was wanting to go now, and with much less supervision. Her grandfather would probably let her use a rocket launcher if she asked nicely, he was such a rose petal of man. 

Avital leaned back into her bed, trying to work it out in her mind. She wasn’t a poor read of people, by any stretch of the imagination, a skill she would only hone as she got older, but her youth and her frustration were covering all the things she should have been able to see. All that came to mind was her stubborn, impossible mother and her other mother acting as a doormat. 

There was a knock at the door. 

“I’m not particularly interested in talking to you just now.” Avital sat up poker straight, jaw firm, staring at the door. “But given that this is a totalitarian regime, I imagine I don’t have a choice.” 

“I deserve that.” Pharah opened the door, leaning against the doorframe. “Avi,” she closed her eyes, “may I come in, please? You may say no, and I will leave.” 

Avital let her shoulders relax, just a little, but watched Pharah warily. “Alright.” 

Pharah came in, and shut the door behind her, her voice controlled. “Would you prefer to have this conversation in English, or in Arabic?” 

Over the course of her life, particularly as she had gotten older, Avital and her mother had slipped back and forth into either, depending, of course, on who was around them, and how private they wanted the conversation to be, but based just as much on the way the wind was blowing that moment, or which language had a better description for the situation. She had not, to the best of her memory, ever been asked by her mother which she preferred. 

Pharah was offering up a type of contrition, trying to let Avital define the boundaries of her life, and as young as she was, Avital was still able to take it for the olive branch it was. 

“It doesn’t matter, Mum. Whichever one gets you to explain yourself.” It came off with an edge, and Pharah winced at the cut. 

“I deserve that, as well.” Pharah sighed. “Avi, I--here is the problem--I am--” she gave a weak chuckle, “Maybe if I keep switching, I never have to say anything.” 

“Mum.” 

Pharah leaned against Avital’s desk and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts, considering the pros and cons of each of them. Avital allowed it, simply sitting at the edge of her bed, waiting to understand. 

“I disagree with your school’s trip itinerary, and everything I think might come of it. What you will be taught.” Pharah looked back at Avital. “Some of this is only my own...I haven’t told you, much, about what happened to me. When I was captured.” she looked away, staring deep into the rug on Avital’s floor, trying to lose herself in the intricate lines of it. ‘When I was tortured.” 

“Mum,” she said again, and yet it seemed a completely different word, soft as a gentle touch, “Do you--do you want to sit?” 

Pharah nodded gratefully and sat next to Avital on the bed, silently for a moment, still staring her way into that rug. 

“You don’t have to protect me. I know more than you think.” 

Pharah put her hand on Avi’s knee. “I am protecting me. I still, sometimes...I struggle, to talk of it.” 

Avital knew many things. Her childhood was a happy but unusual one, and over the years she had patched together what had happened, never told the full truth and yet never really kept from it. She knew things her mother had never told her, she was perfectly aware of how badly she and Tracer had been hurt, how it was the thing that ended up killing Tracer, the reason her mother sometimes still couldn’t wear her arm. 

She even knew that sometimes her mother paced around the living room at night, trying to take a deep breath, trying to come back to the safety of her home. 

Avital didn’t speak of it, for two reasons. One, she loved her mother, even given how angry she was at the moment, and her mother clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Two, she had made a reasonable accounting in the world, that it was always wise to pretend you knew less of people than you did. 

But, wracking her brain, she still couldn’t find the answer. 

“You weren’t...you know, hurt, in Germany, though.” 

“No,” Pharah shook her head, “I was not. But, when I saw, that you were going to The Institute of Human Advancement, that they were offering a tour, that you would be spending a whole day--they funded Moira.” 

Pharah immediately got to her feet, hand to the back of her neck, and all the anger popped up there against. It was as if Avital could see the steam rise from her mother’s head. It had been almost twenty years, Avital would absolutely not say, and they have funded a hundred other projects, she would certainly not add, and didn’t Overwatch also fund her, she would not close with. Her mother was a reasonable woman on most topics, but on the subject of Dr. Moira O’Deorain, a thousand sort of petty hatreds and biased slights were permissible. Her tendency toward meticulousness was never better noted than in her ability to find new reasons to hate anything that had touched Moira. 

Someday, she would talk to her about that. How much energy had she given Moira over these past years? It seemed a waste. Her mother was more intelligent than that. 

“Mum, I don’t know what it is you want me to say.” Avital shook her head and stood, a rush of frustrated English spitting out. “Assuming they decide to offer up propaganda on a woman who has since been disavowed by the medical community, who killed one of the heroes of London, to a group of kids from London, I have the bloody discernment--” 

When we are in the thrall of youth, we occasionally forget that our parents are human beings. They are imperfect, and tender, and foolish in all the same ways they can be wise and loving and strong. When we are teenagers, our parents often become a cliff to be scaled, an obstacle to overcome on our climb upwards. 

But then, there are moments, frightening ones, where we see their humanity completely. 

“I want you to go.” Pharah’s voice was quiet surrender, and she did not look at Avital when she said it, sinking into Avital’s little desk chair. Avital wasn’t sure if she even heard herself. “I am very sorry.” 

Avital looked down at her mother, a twinge forming in her chest. Sometimes, she would reflect in her diary this evening, we get exactly what it is we want, only to discover that the getting it was less fun than we imagined. She hadn’t wanted to see her mother’s wound, still tender after all these years, all the pain she carried. Everything she had read about the incident suddenly seemed meaningless, nothing but bullet point facts, faced with her steadfast, determined mother quietly murmuring in a small wooden chair. She knew the details, but did she know how it had felt? 

She remembered how much gentleness she had shown her Uncle Winston, when he had cried recalling the day they broke them out. She was so tender with her mother when she cried about not being able to save Tracer’s life. Pharah had been there, had taken the torture for days, and Avital had assumed that it had simply been something for Pharah to remain angry about. A kind of historical inefficiency, same as her ranting about how London chose to do civic improvements. 

Her mother felt pain as keenly as anyone, and Avital felt a deep level of shame for not recognizing it. Her mother had been a goal of hers, once upon a time, but she had forgotten even as her goals had shifted to allow her to be fully human. Pharah was not an ideal. She was not a virtue. She was a nearly 50 year old woman, who loved her wife, who was generally an excellent mother, who worried and cared and worked, and, as it turned out, cried. 

Avital, quite without even realizing she was doing it, threw her arms around her mother, and held her tightly. She wanted to ask her to tell her everything, to explain what it had been like, she wanted to buy her mother a pint and have her recount the entire incident as it seemed to her. She wanted to hear about all the things that had only been hinted at over her childhood--the fear Pharah must have felt, the pain, the deep well of guilt she did not deserve, because Tracer had died, and she had lived--but she would not ask them today. Today, she would table every language she had ever learned, and hope the silent one of touch spoke loud enough. 

They were an argumentative and bullheaded pair, the both of them, filled with their own sense of righteousness and honor. Pharah had no reason to deny her this. It was all still true. But suddenly, Avital didn’t care too terribly much. Class trips were mostly a waste of money anyhow. 

There were a million other chances to see Germany.

[cagestark]

Would love a vengeful Tony - those who ignore, insult or hurt Peter in any way find that texts intended for mistresses are sent to wives, their names go missing off guest lists for important events, shady business deals are exposed, etc. Those who are kind and thoughtful to Pete reap rewards, their businesses thrive, their children gain scholarships, etc. Everything is done quietly, discreetly. Nothing can be connected to Tony, but Peter is a genius too - he knows and loves Tony all the more. 😍

Read on AO3 here. 

Hope this is okay

Warnings: dark!Tony who will do anything for his precious boy. Explicit sexual content. Peter is 18+ though. Violence. Dark stuffs. But it’s still pretty soft IMO

-

Alternate universes are infinite. That means that there are an infinite number of worlds out there where Tony Stark does not own Peter Parker. In those worlds, Tony’s must be soft-bellied, burden with consciences that bow their backs over things like right and wrong. Maybe the attraction is there still, the lust for a boy with curls and eyes like liquid cedarwood. He probably jerks off in the dead of night for a kid less than half his age and then cries about it afterwards.

Tony feels sorry for those poor sons of bitches.

He has no such qualms. When Peter applies for the Stark Industries internship, freshly eighteen years old, Tony sees, wants, and takes. Finding out that his boy is also a super hero feels like kismet. Peter adores him. Its visible in the wide wet eyes, the flush that still blooms on his cheeks when he sees Tony naked even months after the first time. And maybe a little begrudgingly, Tony begins to feel the same way about him. His worth to Tony grows exponentially until he can no longer ignore that the boy is the most important thing in his life. Peter is precious. He is kind-hearted (foolish as kindness is), thoughtful, and intelligent.

And he is damaged.

It is months into their growing relationship when Peter finally confides in him, but Tony is no fool: he knows the signs of a bruised apple when he sees one. Peter is shy to the point of insecurity, apologizing for his enthusiasm, for the way his body looks naked, for using the wrong size coffee grounds in the French press. Tony himself has never felt the need to apologize for his own existence, so the habit in his young lover is particularly unfathomable.

Then they get drunk. Peter isn’t legal to drink—not in this country—but if he’s responsible enough to fuck who he wants to, he should be responsible enough to partake. Tony drinks scotch, but Peter coughs his face red when he takes a sip. Instead, he prefers the softer, sweeter or sour liquors and mixed drinks. They have a full bar, so Tony spends the evening making one of every kind of drink he knows just so Peter can take little sips of each, flushing with alcohol, eyes shy as he proclaims it’s good, if he like it and it’s alright, if he doesn’t.

They end up on the couch together, Peter reclined between his legs. It’s there in a soft, trembling voice that Peter begins to cry in his drunkenness and admits the love he had before, the one who bruised him.

“Tell me his name,” demands Tony.

Peter shakes his head.

“He never like, hit me,” Peter says. “But he did slap me sometimes. It didn’t really hurt, but it was so embarrassing. Like I was a, a child. Or a dog.”

Tony just hums, waiting. On the back of the couch, his hand in clenched into a fist, but still he waits. A sniper holds his breath when he needs to steady the scope.

“We went to school together—” yes, yes, go on, Tony thinks. “—he bullied me for a while. Innocent stuff. Then one day we had a heart to heart and he admitted that his animosity towards me was because he was gay. He didn’t know how to express himself, I guess. Or maybe he resented me, because I was out and he wasn’t. I don’t know. We started dating in secret, and I thought—god, I’m such an idiot. It sounds so stupid now—I thought that it was cute. We were like, enemies to lovers. Like the stories. But it wasn’t a story. Not a good one.

“Even after he came out, it felt like no matter what I did, he wasn’t happy with me. Sometimes, it seemed like he enjoyed being unhappy with me. My body was always too scrawny—this was before the bite—and I was always doing things wrong. He said that I embarrassed him. Maybe I did. I don’t know. He’d invite his friends over, the ones who used to bully me with him. They would make fun of me and he, he never stopped them. They’d say the m-most humiliating things to me. Why didn’t he stop them, Tony?” Peter asked, voice cracking, weeping into Tony’s chest.

“A name, darling. Be brave for me. Give me names.”

Peter turns to look at him, eyes red and glazed from alcohol, cheeks wet. He is painfully beautiful. “What will you do to them?”

“Nothing, my sweet,” lies Tony. Some lies are necessary things. “Nothing, unless you tell me to.”

He gives names. A whole list of them, and Tony doesn’t need his artificial intelligence recording to remember them. He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to remember them. They are burned into his brain along with the image of Peter now only thinner, cheeks wet and red because he was slapped like a dog.

Peter cries himself to sleep. Tony carries him to bed, undresses him with glazed over eyes. His mind is miles away. Once the covers are pulled up snugly against Peter’s chin, a wastebasket beside the bed should he wake and feel sick, Tony goes down to his lab, still buzzed, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. The air is cold, but he doesn’t feel it.

“FRIDAY, baby?”

“Yes, boss.”

“We’ve got work to do.”  

-

Peter is naked in his bed, artfully covered by a sheet still damp from their lovemaking. Belly down, he props himself up on his elbows with a Stark tablet in front of him, scrolling through news stories, filling Tony in on news articles involving him.

“This article says you’re trying to create a new world order,” Peter says. This is like after-play for Tony. Besides his cock, his next favorite thing to have stroked is his ego. When he hears Tony snort, the younger man glances over, lips still swollen from the tender abuse they suffered between Tony’s teeth. Peter smiles. With a flick of his finger, the tablet goes dark. He nudges it onto the end table and rolls so that he can spoon his naked body against Tony’s side. When he speak next, he sounds sleepy. “Can you imagine that, Tony? You ruling the world?”

He hums. He can imagine that. He does. Sees it in his dreams, knees bending in supplication to him, wills bending to his way. “Can’t you, Pete?”

The boy presses a hot kiss to one of Tony’s pecks. It’s amazing how little water can help a blossom to bloom, and for Peter, he would bring down a veritable rainstorm. Look how far he has come from days when he would hesitate to brush their fingers as they watched a movie together or were in the back of the car together. He is becoming a diamond, Tony’s crown jewel. “I can see you as a king,” Peter says.

Tony grins. “And where are you, my sweet?”

Peter hums. His hand drags across Tony’s flat stomach, gently scraping blunt fingernails against where stomach becomes pelvis, feeling the muscles beneath it twitch to his whims. The boy has come twice in the last hour, but he is already hard against Tony’s leg. “I don’t know,” he says, voice low. The hand drifts lower and brushes his soft cock, which makes a valiant stir. “Maybe I’ll be your—paramour. Your willing slave. At your feet to take care of all your needs.”

Tony frowns. He leans away, loathing even the brief look of anxiety on Peter’s face at his withdrawal, the cheeks flushing with anxiety, wondering did I do something wrong, did I sound stupid? Taking the softly pointed chin in his hand, he brings them so close their noses almost brush. “You are no servant, and I don’t intend for you to be anywhere near my feet. You will be my queen.”

And like that, his blossom blooms a little more, leaning forward to press their mouths together, soft and sensual as rose petals.

-

The galas are a treat since he’s starting dating Peter. They make games of them, usually delightfully sexual ones that have them tugging their dress pants down in the limo on the way home so Peter can sit on his cock—though there was that one lovely night that Tony took him into the bathroom during the speeches, locked the door behind them so he could bend his boy over the sink and rim him within an inch of his life. For the rest of the night, Peter hadn’t been able to look away from his mouth, blushing and adjusting himself.

Tonight, Peter is wearing a plug. Watching him shift restlessly at dinner has had Tony half-hard for the better part of the evening. Desperate for a reprieve to clear his head, he stalks to the bar to order them drinks: a glass of champagne for Peter and a scotch on the rocks for himself. If they know he is giving his underage date alcohol, they don’t dare say anything.

It’s there leaning up against the polished bar that he overhears Peter’s name spoken from a group nearby. His hearing is excellent, and it takes little effort to block out the white noise of the room to listen in to the conversation taking place among three heads ducked together. He recognizes them: the man is CFO of a private security franchise in upstate New York that made several attempts to offer Stark Industries security services. Tony had humored him for far too long, asking detailed questions about the company’s capabilities before turning him down—and why shouldn’t he know what techniques the little guys are using? It’s smart strategy. Hacking into the man’s private servers to read his emails had been purely for entertainment. All work and no play would make Tony a very dull boy indeed.

Beside him are two women, most likely a wife and a secretary, probably interchangeable.

“—look ridiculous together. Like father and son. If he wanted to feel twenty years younger, a prostitute could have done the same thing for him and with half the work.”

“He’s a cute kid,” the secretary or wife says.

The CFO snorts. “Have some taste, Margot.”  

Tony doesn’t see red. His hands don’t turn into fists, his teeth don’t gnash. He doesn’t get angry, he gets even, wracking his brain for the most insignificant details, anything that he could use to his advantage here—and then he remembers, something about a food allergy, berating the PA who went out to the local bakery for breakfast and brought pastries back to the office.

“Three more glasses of champagne,” says Tony, leaning against the bar. “And tell me. Do you have strawberries?”

When Tony appears behind them, drinks in hand, CFO’s soul nearly leaves his body. All the blood leaves his face. Even the secretary wives look anxious. One of them can’t even meet his eyes. There are probably rumors about the kind of man that Tony is and the kind of business he conducts. When his reputation does half the work of intimidating scum like this, then he considers himself thankful for it.

“Drinks?” Tony says, passing around flutes. “It’s an open bar. Please make sure to partake.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Margot says. Sensible woman. If only she kept better company.

When Tony returns to the table with Peter’s champagne and his own scotch, the ice hasn’t even begun melt. “That was fast,” Peter says. This is his second glass, and he is already looking more relaxed, eyes a little lidded. Whether it is from the alcohol or the plug inside his ass, Tony doesn’t know. What he does know is that he himself is unbearably hard, has been since the strawberry idea came to him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests.

It’s as they’re leaving that the other shoe drops. It must have started as a tickle in his throat, maybe the buzz of numb lips. By the time CFO realizes he’s having a severe allergic reaction, his throat has swelled and his face is turning purple. A crowd gathers, and he and Peter are part of it, the boy pressed against him back to Tony’s front. From what he can gather, the man has an epi-pen that his secretary carries, but she has left it in the Rolls Royce. By the time the valet finds her car among the sea in the parking lot, the man is unconscious.

“Is there anything we can do?” Peter asks, watching as the paramedics administer an emergency shot of epinephrine.

“I’ve done quite enough already,” purrs Tony. His hips give a tiny aborted thrust, cock aching. Peter’s chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly. It’s a warm enough night for them to shed their jackets, holding them over their arms and in front of their erections like the gentlemen they are.

But nothing they do in the limousine on the way home is gentlemanly, and that’s the way Tony likes it.

-

There are three names Peter gives him. By the time FRIDAY is done working her magic, Tony has entire life histories, not just for the three boys who graduated alongside Peter at Midtown High School, but for their families. Their ancestries. Tony doesn’t know where inspiration will strike, so he has FRIDAY compile everything. He reads the files leisurely in the evenings when Peter is lounging between his legs watching television or even in bed when the boy slumbers next to him.

Of the three, he knows that Flash will receive the worst of it. Tony will be the old testament God, cursing Flash and four generations of his descendants. That is where he puts his true energy, drawing from that dark well inside of him where is wrath pools. It makes him giddy, wondering how far he is willing to go.

The inspiration is endless, with Flash’s life laid out in front of him. After graduation, he went to a second-rate technical school in New Jersey after a series of rejected applications to MIT. Had he been trying to follow Peter?

Afterwards, he moved north to Maine where he works for the Gulf of Maine Research Institute, probably spending his days smelling of salt water, working on electric monitoring systems meant to replace human observers on commercial fishing boats.

Digging into his criminal record is where it gets personal. Because there is very little. One domestic violence charge, the plaintiff being the State of New York, but it takes only a little elbow grease to see that it is Peter. Flash had pled no contest. He served no time in jail, just faced parole for 18 months and a required anger management class.

Besides that, there is nothing. No more charges. Tony tells himself that the vast majority of such personal crimes go unreported—and really, would it make Peter feel any better? To know that it hadn’t been personal, it hadn’t been just him that Flash had abused?

Tony has never been a victim of abuse. While he usually doesn’t have difficulty imagining how people will feel, even in such instances of heightened emotion, Peter is an enigma. The consequences of being wrong, of hurting his boy. It’s too much to bear.

Still, he digs deeper. Flash is married to a native Maine woman. FRIDAY has social media photographs included in the file, and they look—like a couple. He won’t say a nice couple, because he desperately wants them dead. But they would probably look lovely in side by side burial plots. The smiles look genuine, arms wrapped around each other. Pictures of them together on the beach looking out at the bleak Atlantic Ocean. But he knows the kind of masks people put on for the public. He’s more interested in knowing about Flash’s relationship when the camera is off, pointed elsewhere.

“Get me their phone conversations, FRIDAY, baby.”

But whatever he expected; it wasn’t this. The tenderness between them. The loving messages sent in the middle of the day. The largest argument they have is over what they will have for dinner after Flash comes home from work, and the boy apologizes for his terse messages within twenty minutes of sending them. He sounds contrite. He sounds genuine. He sounds in love.

Why does that make it worse? Why does that make Tony angrier? Tenderness existed inside this Flash the whole time—why wouldn’t he give it to Peter?  Tony logs off, turns off his systems, shuts down the lab for a while. Sometimes the wrath he keeps deep in that well inside him swells up like the tide, swells up like a spring after rain. It no longer feels like the well is inside him, but that he is in the well, looking up through a haze of fury towards a sky he can’t see.

He doesn’t want to act in anger.

The kind of justice Peter deserves is cool and calculated.

-

His boy is in his lap, confident enough to crawl there while the movie they were watching draws on behind them, their kissing a sensual soundtrack. Peter is so beautiful like this, when the slightest arousal melts away his inhibitions. It is animalistic, the way they lick into each other’s mouths, the biting of lips and gnashing of teeth. There is a restlessness though, a rising fever that isn’t being quenched quickly enough. More is needed. His boy needs more.

“You’re going to top tonight,” says Tony lowly, dragging his teeth across Peter’s hairless, cut jaw. He’s close enough to hear the boy’s breathy gasp. He clams up, going tense, drawing away. When they meet eyes, Peter is already anxious, unsure.

“Why would you want that?” he asks.

Tony frowns. “Why do you like having someone in your ass?”

Peter flushes. “I just—I guess I always thought that the person who. You know. Received—it’s, like, a power thing. People top because they’re stronger.”

“Are you not strong? Do you not want power, Pete?”

“I—I’ve never. I was always the one who. You know.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tony assures. He presses his palm flat against the boy’s clothed chest, feeling his heart hammering away. When his thumb brushes the pebbled nipple, Peter shudders, eyes fluttering. “But you have power here. I’d like to show you.”

Peter swallows. “I’ll try.”

Tony blows him first, just to take the edge off. Peter’s stamina, while better than it once was, isn’t legendary. With the taste of cum in his mouth, he kisses his lover, legs spread and Peter propped between them. The amount of lube he slathers on his fingers is overkill, but it makes Tony warm: the innocence, the desire not to hurt his partner. How someone could hurt this sweet creature, Tony will never understand.

The first finger Peter presses inside him, the boy groans like he’s fingering his own ass. It’s been a while for Tony, but Peter’s pace is slow bordering agonizing, thrusting in carefully, catching softly on the rim as he pulls free. Two fingers feel fuller and Tony groans. Could he convince the boy to take him like this, half-prepared so that it might sting? But half the joy is the look on Peter’s face, eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack as he crooks his fingers to rub so gently against Tony’s prostate. When Tony moans, Peter’s entire body shakes, his cock hard and leaking, giving aborted little thrusts against the bed.

“Take me, Pete,” he asks. “I’m ready. How do you want me?”

“I—I don’t know,” Peter whimpers. He’s already gripping the base of his cock, knuckles white, wincing at the ache. Tony strokes his back to let him recover giving him the time he needs. Maybe he should suck him off again—but now he’s getting desperate himself. Let the boy come quickly. That in itself is a turn on.  

Desiring to watch, Tony just presses a pillow underneath his hips to improve the angle, holds his cock and balls in one hand, and lets Peter press forward, the head of his cock nudging Tony’s rim.

“Jesus,” Peter gasps, even though he hasn’t even pressed in. “I can’t do it Tony, I can’t—”

“You can,” Tony says, low and dark. “Fucking look at yourself Peter. So goddamn strong. So powerful. You could pin me to this bed and fuck me half to death if you wanted to, and god do I want you to. You could snap me in half, couldn’t you sweet boy? Take me. Overpower me. You’re strong enough.”

Peter keens. Wet and warmth hits Tony’s hole as the boy’s hand flies down, too late to stop himself and instead wrapping around his shaft to jerk himself off, strings of cum spurting onto Tony’s cock. He watches, half-amused and more than half-aroused. Wiping a hand through the cum, Tony wraps it around himself and fucks into his fist to spill onto his own abs.

“What did I say?” he says afterwards, pressing a kiss to Peter’s embarrassed face. “So powerful. God that was hot.”

“I didn’t even get inside,” mutters Peter.

“We can try again. If you want.”

He feels the boy smile against his chest. “I—think I’d like that.”

-

Justice starts closer to home than Tony thought it might, because on the first page of FRIDAY’s report about Flash Thompson, Tony discovers that Flash’s father works for Stark Industries and has for years. With thousands of employees, it isn’t difficult to fathom that a well-off man growing up in New York city, but it still irks Tony to know that at any time coming and going, Peter might have crossed this man, might have had to remember. Harrison Thompson is a consumer relation’s specialist working in their marketing department. The man looks trepidatious when he enters Tony’s office bright on Monday morning.

Tony can see the resemblance between father and son. He knows a lot about this man too. His record is not nearly as clear of domestic violence charges as his son’s. Abuse is a vicious cycle in which the offended can become the offenders. The seed of violence in Flash was probably cultivated for years before he met Peter—then again, after remembering the graphic images of a battered Mrs. Thompson, Tony can’t deny that Flash’s DNA probably came from the seed of violence.

The man sits, looking like he’s ready for his own execution. “Mr. Stark.”

“Harrison,” Tony greets. “Have we met? Tell me, in all the years that you’ve worked here, have I ever bothered to meet a little pissant like you?”

“Once, sir,” Thompson says, slow. He’s sweating. “We spoke on the phone.”

Tony coos. Inside his top desk drawer is a stack of papers, which he draws out onto his desk. Forging them took no time at all. He must look unhinged, eyes glittering like hellfire is just behind the pupils, grinning the way he is. “What a shame then, that we’ve had to meet under these circumstances.”

-

Everybody is talking about it, Peter texts. Tony is in a meeting when he sees it, but he has no qualms about answering his boy when he should be listening to shareholders complain about the way the media is spinning Stark Industry’s image.

Talking about what, baby?

An employee you fired yesterday.

From 5th floor.

Caught him stealing from me, baby.

Firing him was just the start.

Wait until the police get their hands on him ;)

Tony. You must know.

Know what, my sweet?

Peter doesn’t answer. If he is worried that the boy will be cold to him when he returns to the penthouse for the evening, his worries were for nothing. There is dinner on the table, with candles. Dinner is only half eaten when they end up in the bedroom, and after undressing him, Tony finds that Peter has shaved. Everywhere.

“Wanted to do something nice for you, daddy,” he gasps while Tony rims him, shifts to mouth at his tight balls.

The sweetest boy.

-

Flash himself, Tony never even meets. Tony has maids to take out the trash in his penthouse, custodians to take out trash from Stark Tower, and Bucky to handle the more personal refuse that Tony would rather not dirty his hands with. He has a thing about his hands.

It is handled all through phone calls from his untraceable line. Bucky is one of the only men in the world besides Peter that Tony would admit he likes: the man listens twice as often as he speaks, has incredible loyalty, and also takes initiative. “How bad do you want him?” Bucky asks.

“Use your discretion,” Tony says, feet braced up on his desk. That’s code for let him live, but not easily. Through the glass walls of his office, he sees Peter getting off the elevator, waving cheerfully to the secretary. When they spot each other, the boy blushes softly, and Tony winks. “But I’m sending you a little extra compensation. There’s an additional detail that’s very important to me, and I want to see it come to fruition.”

The others are child’s play. Via anonymous tips, he alerts the IRS about one of the boys’ fraudulent tax returns. The other keeps his nose cleaner, but that is no problem for a man who doesn’t mind playing dirty: Tony empties his bank accounts, trashes his credit score, and sends several fake incriminating messages to his wife. It barely scrapes the surface of what they are owed, but he figures that there will always be time to expand on a solid foundation of misery.

The pictures arrive one after the other an hour after the sun sets on the East Coast. The boy is barely recognizable: face swollen nearly to bursting from the shattered cheekbone and orbital fracture. Bucky’s gloved hand is visible in the last picture, clutching a head of dark hair to pull the boy’s head back so his throat is visible, wreathed in livid bruises. But the dog collar looks good.

Pet Supply, Bucky says. $4.99.

Tony sends him five grand. Then he saves the pictures on a private server that FRIDAY is under orders to destroy should it be breached or should Tony die. He’d delete them altogether but…one day, Peter might want them.

And he would give Peter anything he wanted.

-

“Boss, you’ve received a text from Peter.”

“Read it to me, baby,” says Tony, welding mask on, sweating. FRIDAY’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the blowtorch.

“It’s a news article, sir, from Portland Press Herald, dated this morning. The headline article is titled GMRI Employee Left Paralyzed After Overnight Attack.” Tony turns off the blowtorch. He takes off the mask to reveal his smile. Peter knows how much Tony loves to hear news about himself. “Shall I keep reading, boss?”

“Please do.”  

-

Peter never mentions it, but sometimes Tony catches him staring. The look on his face is one that isn’t easily read. On anyone else, he would expect to see fear, but this boy is finally starting to grow into his own. He is finally starting to see how he should be treated, and the ramifications he—and Tony—can rain down on those who treat him poorly. Instead, Peter looks hungry for him. So, fucking, grateful to him.

“Do you want to try topping again tonight, my sweet?” Tony asks in bed. “Do you want the power?”

Peter plants a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the mattress. Eyes heavy, he is sure the boy will finger him open, thrust desperately inside him to completion. Maybe he won’t even pull out, just rest his cock there until it hardens, and then Peter will take him again. Until he is strong and satisfied.

Instead, Peter throws a leg over Tony’s hips and sinks down on his cock. The look he gives is positively devilish, resting his hands on his thighs while he begins a brutal, perfect rhythm. He smiles, impish, delighted. Bruised apples are soft, riper and all the sweeter in spite of it.

Peter says: “I already have it.”

[kleml]

Geralt’s Curse

Title: Geralt’s curse

Ship: implied OMP/Geralt

Prompt day: 3 Curse, 1 Ostracism

Medium: Netflix, Books

Warnings: verbal abuse

Summary: My take on book Geralt's lifestory, as if he'd look like Henry Cavill his own life. Blaviken is based on the books too (where I'd say Renfri was kinda just as evil as Stregobor).

Timeline is all wrong, witchers are not hated per se, Kaer Morhen still stands.

Geralt is around 30 during Blaviken.  

Word count: 2698

Author’s notes: Planned as crack, turned out more serious. Please criticize :)

@geraltwhumpweek

...

They loved to call him pretty.

Other wolves.

People in the villages.

Partners he took to bed, smiling and tracing his face features.

And as much as it should have been great to be considered beautiful, it was a big obstacle in his life.

All the kids brought to Kaer Morhen underwent the Trials. Trials of Grasses took place as soon as they got strong enough.

From the "before" Geralt remembered lots of food. That it was nice and cozy to sleep among the other kids, even though many kicked under the blankets or snored, catching runny nose in the cold castle corridors. He remembered there were many of them, so many they had huge kid tables, and that they were washed in groups by adults who promised to cut their hair if they continue to complain about the process.

He remembered thinking his mom will return and take him back. Same did the others, telling stories about their parents. How they loved them and read stories to put them to bed.

It was a blur.

Geralt didn't remember much.

The white hair, the heightened senses, quickened reaction and constant hunger - all of it came after the Trials. But he was sure his face stayed the same. His hands looked just as they looked before too, and the scars on his knees were still there, even though he wasn't sure how he got them. He also didn't feel like he himself changed in any way.

When he lost all memories so terrible his mind couldn't stand to keep them.

When common big beds became smaller, and suddenly there was only a handful of them sitting at the table.

When they made them eat sickening mushrooms and drink strange juice before they were allowed to eat normal food.

When he started his life as a witcher.

And it wasn't all bad. There was a lot of training. They learned how to fight, how to survive, how to recover. They studied all the creatures big and small, writing, reading and some manners.

He was ten, when he woke up with hair gone all white at the roots, paler skin and sense of smell so sharp his head got dizzy.

Some teachers treated them harshly. Others knew how to make studying exciting.

Autumns were the best time of the year. Traveling wolves returned home, bringing sweets and stories, laughter and tons of food, more than Kaer Morhen's fields and gardens could ever provide.

It wasn't until he turned fourteen that he got called pretty for the first time.

Extra Trials meant he had to be better. Meant he was better at many things, mastering challenges faster than others. It was all fun and games until the other

boys started to hate him for it.

"Ksemir! Hold your stance! You're doing it again!"

They were sparring with training blades, circling each other in the yard. Geralt huffed his hair that started falling out of the tail onto his face, and waited while the teacher explained things again.

"You cannot do that. You just cant, you don't have enough speed nor strength to pull it off. You should be staring less at the adults' training. Concentrate on what I'm telling you. Hey! Are you even listening?"

Ksemir was, indeed, staring at older wolves, dancing with proper swords further from them. Varin, the second fencing instructor who prepared to the Trial of Medallion, screamed at them every single time they made a mistake, and Geralt silently wished to stay fourteen for a little longer. Vesemir was on the Path this year, taking his time off teaching, and they had a replacement, Lestek. He was trying to kick some sense into Ksemir, but failed because of young age and compassion.

"Geralt did it but a minute ago!" another boy screamed. It was Ivur. Geralt didn't like Ivur and Ivur didn't like him back.

"You're not listening again. Geralt is faster, he can do that without getting hit. For the rest of you, it's too risky, hence, don't fucking do it!" Lestek was getting angry.

Geralt raised an eyebrow to Ivur and shrugged.

"Why is he always so fucking special?!"

"I'm not special, you just suck at fencing," Geralt got offended.

"Oh excuse me, and you suck at making potions. Do you think you'll stay this pretty long if you don't know how to treat your wounds?" Ksemir pointed back.

"What?" Geralt knew he looked fine, but what it had to do with anything? Why call him that as an insult?

"He's not gonna be a witcher, he's gonna be a whore like his mother. Look, he even grew his hair like a girl," Ivur jumped over and tried to jerk the tail Geralt's been growing for several years to be more like Vesemir. Vesemir was swell and ladies liked him a lot.

"Kids, shut up! What are you even talking about? Ivur, sit back!"

Geralt didn't pay any attention to that, stretching out to hit Ivur in the face.

It was ugly and quick. Ivur managed to rip off some of Geralt’s hair and received a slap across his cheek and nose.

"Look, he even fights like a girl!" Ivur cried out with a nosebleed.

Geralt got even angrier. And his head hurt. He threw his blade without looking in the direction of Ksemir and rushed away, heading to the tower.

"Geralt, come back at once. You're grounded!"

"Fuck off!"

Maybe he was pretty. Maybe he was special. He didn’t ask for that, nor he asked to be grouped with Ivur and Ksemir today.

Eskel said Ivur was jealous because he himself was ugly as shit, and his mother actually was a whore. Eskel also told Geralt he did sometimes act like he was better than all of them.

It took him time to think it over - during the punishment was as good as ever. He decided he wanted to be not only better, but the best. Learn potions. Learn to braid his hair so no one would be able to touch it. Learn to fight so good no one will ever get in his reach.

Felix got back the next autumn. They had sex on the very night he returned, and it was so much better than jerking off alone. Felix kissed him and fucked him and called him pretty. And Geralt didn't mind, because Felix was beautiful too. He maybe fell in love with him, lighting up with a smile every time he spotted familiar red hair in the halls, and that love lived in him for several years. They stilled called him pretty and special. Felix rubbed his nose over Geralt’s neck and asked “so what?”

"You'll make it. They trained you well, didn't they?" Felix said, and Geralt believed him.

Trial of Medallion only left four of them alive. Ivur died. Geralt didn't feel sorry.

They started to study signs after that, their medallions humming on their chests warm and pleasant. Eskel suddenly turned out genius at it.

Geralt forgot about potions and started to spend more time in the library, reading Monster books and History. He copied the stories about knights on their writing classes. Kaer Morhen only had so many books in the library because witchers wrote them themselves, page after page. Geralt did it well enough they even let him copy a small bestiary with drawings.

He trained more. Got good enough they let him enter their annual fighting contest, with witchers of all ages competing in front of others. He had learned enough potion recipes to survive. How to help wounded people and wounded witchers. Funnily, he also got excellent at scything, making sure Kaer Morhen's horses always had enough grass for the winter.

The first time he's been to a contract with a mentor, it went well. The first time he went to clean a wyvern in the mountains, he came back with not a drop of blood.

When he turned seventeen, Geralt met Felix. He had no idea why they never spoke before. Felix was five years older and has already spent his first year on the Path. They spent evenings on the castle walls, talking about everything, starting with the stars and ending with the upcoming Trial.

He could not make a Quen just as steady as Eskel's, but his Heliotrope worked well, and it's not like there were many bruxas out there.

With a newly chosen name (sadly not the one he wished for), he was ready. Or so he thought. Because aldermen had different opinion.

"Alderman Mislaw? You've written you have harpies nesting nearby. I can..."

"Do they have girl witchers too, now? Get out of my sight! Thank god a normal witcher already took care of them."

Maybe he had to break his nose of something. 

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm here about your contract. It says you have a wraith. I can help."

"Sorry, boy, I guess I wasn't clear enough. Get the hell out of here."

"But it's a wraith. You need a witcher for that, I know how to deal with them. You are the contract issuer, right?"

"And a witcher we'll wait for. You are no witcher."

"I am! You see my medallion?"

"I don't care who they give those to these days, but you look younger than my son, and he's fifteen. Get out and stop wasting my fucking time."

The son was taller than Geralt and had a small beard. At fifteen. Kids these days...

"I've killed a cockatrice just a mile away from here. Is there a reward for it?"

"A cockatrice?"

"Skoffin? Kurolishek? I don't know how you call it, but it's there, too big to carry here. I have its feathers and claws with me, if we could just walk..."

"You say you killed our skoffin? Sorry lad, don't believe you. He's a tough one, our skoffin. And you should better go ask for a place in a brothel. All better than to try and portray a witcher. Feathers, huh. I can take those from my chicken and say I killed a skoffin too!"

He had to buy a horse. Absolutely had to. Or get better knives, suitable for ripping off cockatrices' heads.

It took time, but he got there. Started to be recognised around Kaedwin. Used connections other witchers had, spreading their tale about people the same way people talked about them. Geralt had a good reputation and almost felt he became a bit of a knight from those tales he loved once.

And Blaviken stayed that way. Even with the massacre that happened on the market, people were safe. Stregobor left, Renfri was dead as well as her henchmen. People will bury them, clean the blood off the streets, forget it ever happened and live their life in peace, as earlier.

But it all changed so much after Blaviken. So much he never thought it could.

Blaviken used to be a nice place. A place with friends, with good folk who were friendly on the streets and treated wounded witchers well. Caldemeyn, the alderman, knew him thanks to several contracts and always made sure he had a place to stay. It was a peaceful town. No serious monsters around.

There were no real monsters in the world. Only the ones created by humans and humans themselves.

Geralt trailed away, deeply affected by the turn of events. He didn't care about Stregobor's fate. He didn't care that Caldemeyn despised what he had done. But Renfri, the Shrike, and her choices... He only had himself to blame, really. Blame the hope, the belief he had in people. He trusted her to leave town, trusted her to step back and be reasonable. And now he had blood all over his hands, hers and of those murderers, she brought with her.

It wasn't his fault. She had her chance to leave. She was the once making the wrong decision.

Roach got left in a nearby village. He walked there, buried in his thoughts, happy that all the potions and possessions were there, and that he had a paper about that donkey will be returned with him. Getting problems in the village as well would have been a nightmare.

It felt like a dream. The cozy evening they had a night before with alderman and his wife, Marilka asking stupid questions five-year-olds asked. The sex. The morning, the realization.

Snow was late this year, so he made it in time. The castle met him with familiar noise, hugs, warm bathhouse, cellars full of grain and wine, and children, jumping around in excitement. His story about what happened only got one reaction: advice to stay the fuck away from humans, Geralt, when will you learn. It was home, warm evenings, the silence of the land covered in snow and nights not so silent. When the spring came, he almost forgot about it, pushed far enough away not to think.

Eskel, Emir and Geralt left together. They took a contract together too, taking care of a huge and mad troll near Ard Carraigh, and split up, deciding to meet in several months in Tridam, to make a run for Kovir with its never-ending gold.

It was a good year. Until Geralt got to Tridam, as planned.

Roach, his good old Roach, smelled familiar and grounding. Geralt explained the donkey cart situation, thought about everything for a moment, collected his stuff and rode away, now to Holopole instead of Yspaden. After Blaviken, he wanted to spend the winter home.

The nickname followed him from a town to town. Ironically, he was now known as a Butcher in the northern part of Nothern kingdoms, the areas surrounding Kaer Morhen. In Temeria, Lyria and Cintra people didn't care much. Maybe Vesemir was right all those years ago, and saying he was from Rivia was indeed a good choice. He now spent most of his time further and further from home, avoiding the villages who's managed to learn the word of mouth. Only fifteen years later he passed by Blaviken, heading up to Kovir. Rode his horse cautiously and listened carefully to people murmuring around.

"Geralt! You're here too. Come over, join. Lech, this is Geralt, Geralt, Lech is a genius in gwent. You need to play with him. I lost twice already, and his cards aren't even good! Come."

It was good to see Emir again. The Path was lonely, but with other witchers around, it was easy to feel included. Normal.

Lech was already drunk and sent Geralt a wink.

"How bout strip gwent?"

Geralt smiled, unsure of what to answer. He set his saddlebags down, planning to sit down next to Emir on the bench, when someone pushed him forward. The push was strong enough that the table shattered, making Emir's ale fall on the floor.

"What the fuck," Geralt muttered and turned around.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? I payed for that!" Emir raised to stand.

"We don’t want him here."

"What do you mean?" Geralt held Emir's shoulder.

"I mean, we don't want your kind here!" the man, who appeared sober and pissed, spit on the ground between them. It attracted attention and the tavern turned almost silent, deafening after the noise it usually produced.

"What do you mean, our kind?" Emir has met some witcher-haters, but he wasn't in the mood.

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him," the man pointed to Geralt. "He killed half a village in Blaviken. Everybody knows that. A witcher with white hair. He's a monster! A butcher!" the man screamed.

The murmur around got louder.

"Hey, it's my brother you're talking about! Geralt is a decent man!"

"But I haven't... I killed the Shrike. Blaviken was safe," Geralt muttered.

"I've heard that too!" a woman from the crowd screamed suddenly. "My son was there, he helped to bury the bodies. It was a massacre!"

One by one, food started to hit them. The man pushed Geralt again, and suddenly the whole tavern became a pitfall. Geralt grabbed his bags and squished through to the exit door, followed by Emir screaming out blusters back. They had to run to their horses, axiing them and as many people around as they could, and abandoned the Tridam on full gallop, hearing the screams thrown their way.

"This is the Butcher of Blaviken," the village boy whispered to a girl who looked like his sister.

"Are you sure?" the girl whispered back.

"Yes. It's him. White hair, you see, pale as a witcher, and the two swords."

The girl's eyes went round as she blushed.

"Oh. I just didn't expect him to be so pretty."

Geralt hid his smile by lowering his head. Well, maybe it wasn't a curse after all.

There was a man standing behind him with a determined look on his face.

[doritopaw101]

Arc1, book 2: Chapter 6

"I want to kill the sun" his quick and blunt words made Graypaw jump. Raveneye was used to his words by now.

Raveneye and Dustpelt finally earned their warrior names. Good thing too, Icebelly was getting bored without Raveneye around.

It was how they got their names was what interested Icebelly. Ravenpaw and Dustpaw had to fight their mentors or parents, apparently that was the tradition but it had been getting lost lately. Robinwing very much pushed for this

"You've already let Embereyes, Nettlemist, Gingerblaze, Sandstorm, and Icebelly get their names without honor, you will not do the same for my kits, it was fine with Cherrycloud and Chestnutclaw because of the Shadowclan attack, there's no excuse for this Bluestar" she had spat which was shocking news to Icebelly that she actually called Raveneye her kit.

Leopardstorm and Redtail were fine with it and so it went.

It was shocking true for Thunderclan tradition to fight your mentor to receive your warrior name. If you lost you'd have to keep fighting til you won.

However things were sort okay at the moment, thanks to the weather, he visited Princess every day recently, slipping away to see her between patrols and hunting but he drew the line with Cinderpaw's training. Tiger-roar's talk drove that in his mind. However he finally managed to convince Gingerblaze to meet Princess and they met was...interesting. It was like another version of Luna and Princess trading insults, he was doomed.

He was worried when Flamepaw and Moonclaw finally met Gingerblaze.

Willowpelt's kits had just been apprentices: Rosepaw to Frostbite, Ebonypaw to Raveneye, Petalpaw to Redtail, and Owlpaw to Leopardstorm.

He's been to Riverclan once but that was understandable. Swanlight was kind and he got to spend some time with Condorpaw and Lakepaw as well as Silverstream, he even got to watch Silverpaw and Mosspaw's ceremony a few moons ago.

-Flashback-

Icebelly felt Greenflower's kits curling into his belly fur. It helped ignore the glares he was getting from the other Riverclan cats. Suneyes and Blackclaw were staring him down with hate in their eyes as they passed the nursery, or at least that's what Flamepaw described them being.

"They sure love you" Greenflower purred.

"It's like this in the nursery back at Thunderclan I swear" he replied holding Poolkit up when the kit slipped down to his neck. Flamepaw chuckled, Tidekit climbing on her head.

The nursery walls were lined with a fresh batch of lilies and lotus. It helped to brighten the already lively nursery, helped match the beautifully colored camp. It was a great contrast to the dull Thunderclan camp that Icebelly lived in.

"Well you are a fluffy mess so I don't blame them" Silverstream purred, rubbing himself against him, the tabby curling his tail around his own. Icebelly tried wrapping his paws around the tabby's neck, when he began to Silverstream smirked at him "Can't keep you paws off me Fluffball" Icebelly stuck his tongue in return "You're a handsome tease, I will get you back" he wrapped his paws around Silverstream's neck, nuzzling into Silverstream's fur.

Him being so close to Silverstream was sort of a test between the tabby and Greenflower, to know the cat who her lover was with. Greenflower nuzzled Silverstream softly "He's right when he says you're a tease Silver"

Silverstream stuck his tongue out at them "Ya'll love me anyway"

Greenflower licked his check "Indeed I do"

"All cats old enough to swim, gather round the high rock for a clan meeting" Stormstar called

"Should I go back to my camp?" Icebelly asked

"I don't see why you should" Swanlight mewed as she padded by, Condorkit and Lakekit following close behind her.

"Yeah besides Silverpaw and Mosspaw enjoy your company, they'll be grateful that your here to see their ceremony" Silverstream added

"Our ceremony is today" Lakekit burst out "You said you'd be here"

"Yeah but Blackclaw-"

"Say no more" Icebelly mewed "I'm glad I stopped here today"

"Really?" Lakekit mewed, she came up to his neck at full height

He licked her ears "Really"

Icebelly slowly stood up, letting Greenflower collect her kits and padded out with Flamepaw on his right and Silverstream on his left. He sat at the back, to draw the least attention to himself.

"More company" Flamepaw purred "Vixenpaw and Grasspaw are crude"

"Hey don't forget Shadepaw and Bluepaw" Silverstream mewed "Shadepaw's great"

"Too much energy in that cat" Flamepaw replied, her moss scarf shaking slightly "I can't deal with that and Bluepaw's a seer in training" she looked ahead at Mosspaw and Silverpaw "What kind of names will they get?"

"Probably -ripple, -creek or dive for Mosspaw, she's one of our best divers so far or -pelt for her fur and probably -tide or -river for Silverpaw, he's a trickster and he's a great swimmer"

"We gather here today for a warrior ceremony of two apprentices: Silverpaw and Mosspaw" Stormstar lowered his gaze, his flower crown slipping a little but was knocked back. "Mudbelly Mistyfoot do you believe these two are ready for warriorhood?"

"I do Stormstar" Mistyfoot mewed

"He's ready Stormstar" Mudbelly agreed

"Very well, Silverpaw and Mosspaw step forward"

The two apprentices stepped forward, both looked ready to burst with anticipation. Silverpaw hid his scar with his head fur well, cars still got him and Silverstream confused.

"Mosspaw from this day forward you shall be known as Mosspelt, your clan thanks you for your abilities in diving and fishing and Silverpaw from this day forward you shall be known as Silvertide, your clan thanks you for your abilities in fighting and good spirit"

"Mosspelt Mosspelt Silvertide Silvertide"

Stormstar straightened up "As is tradition, these two warriors will do The Great Night Swim, they will catch the night scaled fish and bring it back to camp as proof as well as anything else they find worthy"

"May you do well young warriors" Oakjaw mewed

"Come on you two" Fallowtail purred, her red smithstone ear rings gleaming in the light "Me and Frogleap will lead you" Silvertide and Mosspelt quickly followed their parents out of camp, determined to complete the swim.

"Otterstrike going to join them?" Icebelly heard Grasspaw ask, he glanced at the heavyset warrior. Strong muscles that he very much didn't get from Frogleap or Mallowtail.

Otterstrike huffed "Can't, Oakjaw wants me on otter patrol"

"Can't we just chase them out" Grasspaw drawled

"I wish" Otterstrike replied "at least they bring some prey"

"Someone's too sun-eyed" Silverstream muttered

Icebelly glanced at Silverstream and Greenflower "How was The Great Swim for you two?"

"Amazing" Silverstream mewed "I found a big one, Willowheart had to help me carry it since it was too heavy to fit in the vine bag I had. I also found some great shells"

"You gave them to the kits" Greenflower purred "Eelkit wouldn't let one go"

"Of course, my kits deserve only the best" Silverstream puffed his chest in pride "I'm the spoil parent"

Greenflower rolled her eyes "Clearly"

"Greenflower?" Icebelly asked "What about you?"

"Mine was alright, I was the only new warrior at the time and I'm not clanborn so the pressure was greater. The fish were small but still valuable though. I remember when Dawnscale made them into a necklace for me, I have it in my nest"

"Don't forget the challenge I had to do" Flamepaw called

"Challenge?"

"Yep, some of the clan wasn't fine with me just blindly joining so they called for The New Fish Challenge"

"What did you have to do?"

"They taught me a few things then sent me out to bring some items back, so show what it means to be a Riverclan cat"

"Not as tough as it can get" Greenflower added "It could've been much worse"

"That is not all Riverclan" Stormstar continued "We have two new minnows ready for apprenticeship: Lakekit and Condorkit, step forward"

The two kits stumpled forward, both held smiles of excitement.

Reedtail sat beside Swanlight, tails entwined "Already know who's Lake's mentor" he mewed

"Did you sway Stormstar or Oakjaw to tell you?" Swanlight smirked

"Maybe"

"Lakekit until you have received your warrior name you shall be known as Lakepaw, Voleclaw, you were an excellent mentor in Suneyes and I know you'll pass on all your skills to young Lakepaw and Condorkit until you have recieved your warrior name you shall be known as Condorpaw, Whiteclaw you are ready for your first apprentice. You have excellent training from Leopardclaw and I know you'll pass on all your skills to young Condorpaw"

Voleclaw and Whiteclaw padded over to the apprentices, they were holding two ends of an otter pelt bag, they tossed it up revealing white roses and rosebuds that showered over the new apprentices.

"Lakepaw Condorpaw Lakepaw Condorpaw"

-Flashback ends-

Icebelly smiled at the memory, the beauty of Riverclan would always interest him to no end.

"Why do you hate the sun?" Graypaw asked breaking his thoughts.

"It burns my fur constantly" he replied simply "Why do you think I go to Riverclan this often? To laze around and braid my fur"

"That's what Lionheart says you do" Graypaw muttered

"Lionheart can spend the day at the bottom of the river for all I care" Icebelly replied, tail high

"Can the fish eat him too?" Raveneye asked with a smirk

"Oh absolutely"

Graypaw rolled their eyes. "You two hang around Yellowfang to much"

"Not enough if you ask me" Icebelly mewed

"You're just glad she's there to help you deal with Robinwing"

"Not really, I can handle myself it's more my entertainment"

-Flashback-

Icebelly didn't like being treated like kit, he was a full grown warrior for fucks sake but here he was, being fussed over by Frostbite and Goldenflower.

"How's the feathers?" Goldenflower asked "Got them from a dove"

"They're fine" Icebelly mewed

Frostbite sniffed the nest "Needs more"

"No no" Icebelly scrambled to sign |It's fine, It's good|

He moved on his limp leg and winced. He fell back down but the feathers didn't do much to fall back on.

"Icebelly?" Frostbite mewed

"Is it too soft?" Goldenflower asked

"A little..." They were already off and out of camp. Icebelly would be more annoyed at them if they didn't have good intentions. He could only image what it'll be like when he has his kits.

"I don't believe it" Icebelly turned his head to see a pissed Robinwing, her ear was cut which made most of her feathers fall from behind her head.

"Believe what?" he replied, confused as hell.

"There's no way my Chestnut would mate with you, these aren't his kits"

Icebelly rolled his eyes "I can give you details of what we did but I'd like to sleep tonight" he flicked his tail "Never said they were his, but he is a likely sire of some, I can't throw out that possibility"

"A flea ritten outsider, traitor's kit, a river lover and a lier. You keep piling on" Robinwing sneered

"I stopped being an outsider the moment I beat Fogtail, your son" Icebelly retorted "You're just jealous Riverclan can actually tolerate me unlike you and I think your head's to comfortable up your ass to realize the obvious in your face"

Robinwing scoffed "You really are Dewflare's son"

"Last I checked, Frostbite declared me hers so no" he mewed bluntly "if you try to pull the blood is thicker than water shit, Fogtail isn't your kit by blood, he's Dappletail and Stormtail's son"

"Please, Dappletail was so happy to dump him, dumb bitch she was, I saved him" Robinwing replied, placing a paw to her chest.

'She's gone mad' Icebelly thought

"Are you trying is cause the miscarriage of your grandkits?" Yellowfang's voice while raspy at times still held great terror in it "or are you trying to kill yourself with an infection from that bleeding ear?"

"Piss off shadow cat" Robinwing growled "Go back to the rathole you crawled out of"

"Could say the same for you stone cat" Yellowfang replied swiftly "As they say, takes one to know one" she padded over to Icebelly "Now, if you don't mind, I need to do a check up"

-Flashback ends-

"How's Embereyes?" Raveneye asked

"And Miststrike?" Graypaw added "Will Yewkit really be okay?"

It had been somewhat recent, Miststrike, Leopardstorm, Tiger-roar, and Willowpelt were all in a new relationship and Graypaw and Cranepaw were already attached to Tiger-roar and Leopardstorm. Miststrike more so since they were already close to her in their kithood from what Gingerblaze mentioned. Nettlemist was basically their older brother, a nicer and polite version of Darkstripe in Cranepaw's words.

Cranepaw and Graypaw were all over Swiftpaw and Lynxpaw and were ecstatic when Goldenflower announced her pregnancy.

He heard Graypaw refer to Leopardstorm as dad and Tiger-roar as father, both fitting.

"What did they call Featherwhisker and Thrushpelt?" he whispered to Raveneye

"Featherwhisker was papa and Thrushpelt was papa bird" the black tom replied "They stopped at five moons"

"How is it so easy for them to replace them?"

"Why is it so easy for you to replace Dewflare?" Graypaw retorted overhearing his words "Before you found about the wolf attack"

Icebelly curled his lip slightly "My relationship with her is much different than what you had with Thrushpelt and Featherwhisker, best remember that"

Not everything could be calm, greencough was still present in the camp. Adderkit and Leapkit's deaths were evidence of that:

-Flashback-

He had just finished a training session with Cinderpaw, Lynxpaw, and Willowpelt, while Leopardstorm did oversee the training it didn't stop Lynxpaw from trying to do something reckless.

Spraining her paw in the process.

Neither Willowpelt or Leopardstorm was impressed.

Goldenflower had been all over her kit, questioning what had happened and Icebelly explained the whole ordeal. Swiftpaw complained at not being able to watch to which Tiger-roar cuffed him over the ears.

Icebelly had left Lynxpaw to get fixed up and lectured by Thymeroot. He started to pad over to the nursery but Gingerblaze stopped him.

"It's Adderkit" the ginger and white tom mewed "I don't think she's in a good state, she might lash out"

Icebelly nuzzled his brother's cheek "I understand but she might need someone and I'll be that cat if no one else"

Gingerblaze looked worried then sighed "Please just be careful, I don't want you to get sick either"

Icebelly touched his nose to his brother's "I will, relax blaze"

In the far corner of the den he heard small sobs, from Embereyes.

The blue-gray queen was sobbing into Adderkit, Volekit, and Doekit, their little coughs were barley audible. Icebelly didn't exactly know what to do but he followed what his gut told him. They padded over to the queen, sat next to her and curled their tail over her back. He slowly licked between her ears, trying his best to comfort her.

"Yellowfang told me...it's not likely they'll survive" Embereyes whispered

Icebelly felt his heart go out to Embereyes. No deserved to lose a kit. He continued softly groom her "If that's what's going to happen, let's make sure they have unending love til the end"

Embereyes buried her head into his chest, crying softly. Icebelly saw Adderkit stop moving, Volekit kept coughing and Doekit looked still as a twig aside from the small rise and fall of her chest.

"Ember...Adderkit"

"He's gone, I know" she replied

A thought came into Icebelly's head, he didn't know if it would work but he had to try. "Embereyes, I think I know of a way to help"

Icebelly had been surprised when she agreed even more so when Miststrike overheard them and told them to take Yewkit. They took Doekit, Yewkit, and Volekit to Barley's barn. He met with Violet,Barley,and Mary who took them to a house close to the barn. Violet told to visit in a half-moon and would tell them what would happen. Volekit and Doekit were old enough to know what was happening and they in their weak state said they hoped he got better for Embereyes which made the dark gray and white molly cry with sadness and love.

The clan had a burial for Adderkit and Icebelly saw Rosetail come to collect Adderkit. Rosetail told him to make sure Embereyes didn't blame herself for this and he would. Embereyes told the clan what she had done and why and Icebelly backed her up. The clan was shocked and many spat at of how she could do something like that

"Have you no faith in your clan" Darkstripe had hissed

"Not in this moment I don't, I don't want the others to die" Embereyes had spat "I'd rather give them away and they live than them staying here just to die"

Icebelly slept with Embereyes in her nest in the nursery that night. She practically begged him to not leave her alone and they wouldn't say no.

-Flashback ends-

"Embereyes and Miststrike will...survive as will Yewkit, Doekit, and Volekit now" lack for a better word seemed nothing but unsettle Graypaw even more about Yewkit.

The nursery was still full and there were few cats that didn't have apprentices at the moment. Bluestar might put a stall on apprentices for now.

He walked with Graypaw and Ravenpaw along the short trail to the sandy hollow where Cinderpaw and Ebonypaw would be waiting.

"I hope more clouds come" Icebelly mewed

"Let's hope rain won't come" Graypaw replied. Icebelly knew how much the their thick-coated friend hated rain-when Graypaw's fur got wet, it clung to them and stayed damp long after Raveneye's shorter fur had dried off. Icebelly's fur was fluffy but not to Graypaw's level, unlike Graypaw though he enjoyed the rain, it felt so good on him especially if he had been in the burning heat all day which was rare.

They arrived at the edge of the hollow just as Cinderpaw pounced on a pile of frosty leaves, sending them flying in all directions and Ebonypaw catching a few. Cinderpaw leaped and twisted to catch one as it fluttered back to the ground.

The three toms glanced at each other, amused.

"At least Cinderpaw and Ebonypaw will be warmed up and ready for today's assignment" Raveneye observed.

Ebonypaw stood up straight, her eyes wide "Good morning, Raveneye, Icebelly, Graypaw" she mewed "What is today's assignment?"

"A hunting mission" Raveneye told him. He padded down into the hollow, followed by Icebelly and Graypaw.

"Where?" mewed Cinderpaw, dashing toward them. "What are we going to catch?"

"We're going to Sunningrocks" Icebelly mewed "And we'll catch whatever we can"

Bluestar told all the cats with apprentices to make sure they are battle ready first and hunting can come after with Shadowclan and Riverclan at their heels. Icebelly didn't need to be told this because he followed Tiger-roar's method of training to a T. He once saw the two-colored tabby watching them train and he nodded in approval. Cinderpaw's training had been going very well, they were shaping up to be a good fighter managing to beat most of the other apprentices aside from Lichenpaw and Lynxpaw.

"I'd like to catch some voles" Cinderpaw declared "I haven't tasted vole yet"

"Now now Cinderpaw, everything we catch has to go to the elders, queens, and sick cats to help fight off their greencough" Icebelly warned

"But I'm sure if you asked the elders nicely, they'd be happy to share" Graypaw added with a purr

"Okay" Cinderpaw mewed "Which way is Sunningrocks again?" They bounded up one side of the hollow and peered into the forest, their tail sticking straight up.

"This way!" Icebelly, leaping up the opposite side.

"Okay" Cinderpaw raced down the slope, across the hollow, and up to Icebelly's side, sending fallen leaves flying everywhere. Graypaw followed with ease while Raveneye leaped up and caught one it drifted past his nose. He pinned it to ground with a purr of satisfaction and saw Ebonypaw staring at him "Er, never miss chance to practice your hunting skills" Raveneye told her quickly

Ebonypaw chuckled "Sure Raveneye"

The five cats made their way along the familiar scent trails to Sunningrocks. The sun above the trees by the time they emerged into open territory. Ahead of them, a slope of rock rose out of the soft earth, its smooth surface lined with cracks.

After the shade of the woods, the flat rock face reflected the sun with dazzling glare. Icebelly hissed in pain, in pain from burning his fur to his eyes. He dashed into the shade in an instant.

"This is Sunningrocks" Raveneye announced, blinking. "Come on!"

"Mrrrrr! It feels nice!" Cinderpaw mewed as she raced up the stone slope behind him. Icebelly knew Cinderpaw was right but was not going to burn to feel the warmth.

Icebelly watched the others rest at the top, where the far side fell away steeply to the forest. Icebelly listened for the gentle bubbling of the river that followed the Riverclan border, flowing down from the uplands. It touched the Sunningrocks before turning to run deeper into Riverclan territory. He could barely hear it-perhaps the water was low after the scalding dry weather.

Graypaw joined Raveneye "Come on" he mewed "Make most of the sun while it's here"

"Is this where Sweetheart died?" Cinderpaw asked

"Yep, Blackclaw and her fought and ender up cracking her head open" Icebelly replied "Fucking bastard"

Raveneye prickled his ears. "Hush" he hissed "What can you hear?"

The two apprentices strained their ears forward.

"I think I can hear some scrabbling" Ebonypaw whispered

"It might be a vole" Graypaw murmured "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"Over there" Ebonypaw mewed, leaping to her paws. The scrabbling noise became more furious and then disappeared.

"I think it heard you" Icebelly remarked.

Ebonypaw looked crestfallen. Cinderpaw purred with amusement at their friend's clumsiness.

"Never mind" Graypaw mewed "Now you know that it's better to creep up slowly, especially on voles. They're fast!"

"Fast little pricks" Raveneye grumbled. He was a tree hunter, made for the trees and hunting birds. That's the one and only thing he and Robinwing will ever get along with.

"Sit still and listen" Icebelly advised "Next time we hear something, work out where it is and then begin to move toward it very slowly"

The cats remained where they were, no one daring to move until they heard the scrabbling sound again. Icebelly's ears pricked, Icebelly rose and crept forward, biting his tongue when he felt his pelt sting, he placed each paw noiselessly in front of the other until he reached the edge of a small crack that ran across the rock face. They paused. The scrabbling noise continued. Icebelly lunged forward and reached down into the crack with a forepaw. Their fur and skin were burning as he scooped out a fat vole that had been hiding in the shadows and flung it onto the bright stone. It squealed as it landed, but the hard ground stunned it and Icebelly finished it off quickly.

"Wow!" Ebonypaw mewed "I want to do that!"

"Don't worry; you'll have plenty of chances. For now, let's get back to the forest" Graypaw mewed

"Aren't we going to catch anything else? While we still have sun" Cinderpaw protested

"Nope" Icebelly replied "There's only so much sun I can take"

"Also did you hear the vole squeal?" Raveneye cut in, the apprentices nodded "Well, so did every other creature around here. They prey will be hiding for while."

"I should caught it and killed it before it made a sound" Icebelly said in embarrassment

Graypaw rubbed himself against him, whisker twitching with amusement "It's fine Snowy"

Icebelly chuckled through the dead vole. Graypaw had been calling him this nickname for the past half-moon and Icebelly couldn't help but laugh and call Graypaw his fluffy pigeon.

While Icebelly could hold a facade, it had to come down some time. He felt his fur heat up, his skin boiling, eyes starting to blur. He dropped his vole and screeched in pain. Raveneye and Graypaw knew what was wrong and tried to calm him down but Icebely wasn't having it. The shade wouldn't help now, he needed water. He broke into a run, Raveneye and Graypaw's calls rang on deaf ears, literally as his ears started to ring. He followed his nose to the river.

"Icebelly, the river's frozen!" Graypaw called through the ringing but Icebelly didn't stop. He wanted this to stop, he was numb to everything. He tripped and fell onto the ice, sliding a little.

"Icebelly don't move" Raveneye mewed

"What is going on?" Ebonypaw asked

"Icebelly's pelt is burning and he's having another episode" Raveneye replied

Icebelly felt the ice crack a little but he was to out of it to be concerned. "Relax" he heard Graypaw mew as he picked him up by his scruff

"Graypaw, get off the ice your too heavy you'll-" but Raveneye's warning was too late. The ice gave out with a terrifying crack. Icebelly tried swimming but his vision wasn't coming back so he didn't know what to do and Graystripe's weight wasn't helping.

They were moving raping lightly that Icebelly knew, being carried downriver.

Icebelly thought them and Graypaw were sleeping with the fish, they almost were if not for two sliver tabbies. He felt Raveneye grab his chest fur and pull him up. Icebelly laid there coughing up water and Graypaw doing the same beside him. Even though he almost died, at least he wasn't burning anymore.

"You idiots!" Silverstream spat "What were you thinking?"

"Drowning?" Graypaw replied

"Can't you drown in your own territory?" Silvertsream mewed, his eyes flickering with amusement

"Yeah but who would save us there?" Icebelly purred

"Starclan help us" Silvertide chuckled, licking the top of Icebelly's head.

"That was awesome" Shadepaw mewed jumping beside Silvertide.

Raveneye sighed and turned to them "Look, Icebelly Graypaw, we've got to get out of here"

"We can't have you freeze to death" Ebonypaw advised

They said goodbye to the Riverclan cats and made their way back to their camp.

"What do we tell the clan?" Cinderpaw asked

"Just say Icebelly was trying to teach us how to fish" Ebonypaw suggested "From what Riverclan taught him"

"I doubt they'll work" Icebelly muttered leaning against Raveneye

"What are you fools doing this time?" Tiger-roar's voice was powerful as always, though it sounded more tired than annoyed.

Fuck

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

"That was fun" Shadepaw purred, tail waving

Silverstream rolled his eyes at his apprentice "Let's hope it happens again" he said sarcastically. Silvertide chuckled.

Shadepaw's eyes dark blue eyes widen "Really?"

"N-...sure" Silverstream replied honestly done at this point. "Should've let that Thunder drown" He heard Blackclaw drawl "They don't know swimming if it came and swallowed them whole"

Oh how Silverstream wanted to rip him apart. He knew Blackclaw as nothing but a fishbrain in his opinion, others respect him as one of their best warriors and honor his words and methods. Mistyfoot and Blackclaw have a little rivalry going on their pretty neutral to Blackclaw but hate his methods. Stonefur and Blackclaw decided kits were what they wanted and were having Skyeyes surrogate for them, glad it wasn't Suneyes who was Blackclaw's first choice.

Silverstream did worry for his cousin's choice in a mate after Splashsong. It seemed to break something in him, only really holding himself for Shadepaw and Bluepaw. Him taking Blackclaw as a mate didn't help Silverstream's concerns at all, they didn't really even do a courting process according to Mistyfoot.

At least the rest of the clan was still normal. The clan was booming with Swanlight and Fallowtail announcing their pregnancies. There was also the addition of a molly named Soot joining the clan and was expecting Stormstar's kits. Not to say Silverstream wasn't excited about being a big brother, he very much was and Sootwhisker was a lovely molly to be around.

"We're already on Thunderclan's bad side when you decided it was a good idea to attack and kill at Sunningrocks" Silvertide pointed out with a hiss

"They killed Beetlestrike" Blackclaw retorted "Suneyes had to raise Vixenpaw and Grasspaw on her own and now they've killed Splashsong"

Shadepaw's ears and tail dropped at the mention of her father, her head hung low.

'So you actually admit that Stonefur had a mate before you' Silverstream thought bitterly "After you killed Sweetheart, on purpose and a patrol killed two more of their warriors, what did you expect to happen?" Silverstream shot back

Blackclaw scoffed "Whatever, how's training been?" changing the subject. 'Your views will get you killed' Silverstream thought 'And I will be laughing 'I told you so' during your river ceremony when that happens'

"Awesome, Silverstream's been showing me some fishing techniques" Shadepaw replied, her cheery attitude returning

"No swimming?" Blackclaw's amber eyes narrowed "Did the great Silverstream not want his paws wet" he muttered the last part and only Silverstream heard him.

"He's been teaching me some swimming techniques" Shadepaw mewed cheerily "It's fun"

Silverstream was glad for Shadepaw's more calm and cheerful nature and didn't catch the insult in her step-father's words. Seriously how was Skyeyes his sister? Rippleclaw made sense to be his son but Whiteclaw is a different story since the gorge attack.

"Hey Silverstream Shadepaw" Silverstream was glad for the gift in Stonefur and Morningriver who was behind him.

"Hey Papa hey Auntie Morning" Shadepaw purred padding over to them

"How's my niece doing?" Morningriver mewed as she rubbed Shadepaw's head

"Great, I saw Thunderclan cats today"

"Really now?" Morningriver chuckled

"Silverstream and Silvertide saved two from drowning" Shadepaw added with pride

"Drowning would have been better" Blackclaw growled

"We've already killed three warriors from Thunderclan we don't need more Blackclaw" Morningriver said coolly

"Come on let's head back to camp" Stonefur quickly mewed

"We need Sunningrocks back if the fish continue to disappear and die" Blackclaw replied falling beside Stonefur who carried Shadepaw like a kit. "Shadowclan taking the good fish doesn't help either"

"And when we need it Stormstar will give the word" Silverstream cut in "Simple as that Blackclaw nothing more nothing less"

Blackclaw curled his lip but said nothing.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Whitethroat laid on his side numb to the whole world. He ignored the wails and moans of the camp. He was lost to it all or he was if not for Marshshadow bringing him out of it with Wolfstep's help. Beepaw was mostly being trained to deal with wounds by Brokenstar's orders and Palecloud could only handle so much.

"How're you feeling?" his mother mewed softly, her scent still soothed him even now in this fucked situation.

"Tired and sore" he replied. He saw Wolfstep glance at his kits "I haven't named them yet" he mewed

"Are you gonna wait for Mossclaw to get back?" the black tom asked raising an eyebrow "I made a pelt nest for you but I don't know if Mossclaw will..." he trailed off for a moment "I mean I made one for Hollowpaw before got apprenticed and Burdockpaw and Rippedkit before he..."

His oldest kit, apprenticed to Barkfoot. Already covered in scars and being breed, to her it was her purpose. It hurt watching his daughter to this willingly. It hurt more that he couldn't do anything to stop it. Burdockpaw wasn't much better with her mentor being Nutwhisker. It felt strange to lose his only son so soon after his birth, he expected sadness but it wasn't there.

"Could I train to be a pelt-maker under you?"

"I'd love that" Wolfstep replied "I'll have to see if Brokenstar will even let you"

Brokenstar didn't allow for any ceremonies of kits, they were too weak for Shadowclan so they didn't deserve a proper send off. Palecloud brought the kitten skulls to an area in the graveyard as far as Whitethroat was concerned.

Whitethroat was about to say yes to Wolfstep but caught himself on what he was doing. This wasn't like him at all, he was fiery, rough, and tough and he'll be damned before he lets Mossclaw get into his head like this again.

It was hard to think since Brokenstar decided it was a good idea to mate with him. It was bloody and he ended up passing out with Littlecloud and Wetfoot dragging him back to camp. It didn't help with Mossclaw adding onto harshness and Brokenstar told him he needed to be a good breeder for the future of Shadowclan if Dawncloud, and Darkflower ever finally give out.

Not like Dewflare made anything easier. The only thing she made easier was that Brokenstar didn't seem interested in Fernshade as much. Leaving her to raise her third litter with him mostly in peace. Dewflare was expecting another littler already. Marigoldpaw was different story. If there was one thing Brokenstar seemed to like, it was tortoiseshells. Did it matter that it was his own kin he was breeding, of course not. If Brokenstar wanted something, he'll get it.

"No screw him" he answered gazing down at the little ones suckling at his belly. Two black kittens, both mollies.

"Hollylock-kit and Dark-kit" he mewed

"My lovely granddaughters" Marshshadow purred

'Let's hope' He'd rather not think of the other option.

Whitethroat was glad however that while the elite grew, the other clan's tolerance for Shadowclan was thinning in Thunderclan and Windclan's case. Riverclan has been submissive at the moment.

"Move it breeding stock" Dawncloud was shoved to the ground by Mossclaw. The dark brown tom displayed new scars on his shoulders and back from the recent Windclan attack, it was hilarious that he got them from an apprentice, Runningpaw from what he heard from Clawface. Palecloud had told Brokenstar it wouldn't work but Brokenstar ignored him and told Mudfoot and Deerfoot to attack the medicine cat but not kill him. Palecloud could barley stand on his own now but always made the painful walks out of camp with Tangleburr's help, just to get away even for a moment.

Poppyflower and Darkflower jumped over Dawncloud, protecting her in case Mossclaw tried anything else. "You don't attack us unless you want to lose valuable members Mossclaw, even Brokenstar says that" Poppyflower hissed.

"Duh because that's all you mollies are good for, cats that have miscarriages like Poppyflower are failures to Shadowclan, like my lovely Whitethroat" Mossclaw sneered as he padded over to Whitethroat. He looked down at him, his green eyes locked on the kits.

"What are those?"

"Your daughters dumbass" Whitethroat replied, gently licking the kittens.

"Daughters? I wanted sons" Mossclaw snarled, his tail lashing "Rippedkit was a disappointment, I want proud sons"

"Too bad" Whitethroat spat, anger filling him at the disrespect of his son's memory "it's an equal chance for both, you're just sore because you didn't get a son from raping Houndbelly" the molly in question seemed to shrink at her name, trying hiding in between Whitethroat and Marshshadow.

Mossclaw's eyes narrowed, he lifted his unsheathed paw. Whitethroat covered his kits with his tail, teeth bared.

A rush of white appeared in front of Whitethroat and shoved Mossclaw away.

"B..Blackfoot?" Whitethroat mewed in shock

"Enough" the pointed black tom stated

"Excuse me?" Mossclaw spat, rushing back to his paws

Blackfoot fluffed up his fur, he towered over the dark brown tom. "I said enough Mossclaw, Are you going to argue with your elite?"

Mossclaw glared at Blackfoot but said nothing. "Deal with it later" it was Nutwhisker who mewed that "Brokenstar wants Whitethroat in his den and wants Marshshadow for day watch with Blackfoot"

Whitethroat felt his skin crawl "I'll watch them" Dawncloud mewed. The young queen had just given birth to her third litter of Hemlock-kit and Cloudykit sired by Toadpelt.

Whitethroat rested Dark-kit and Hollylock-kit into Dawncloud's paws and headed to Brokenstar's den. He entered quickly, he was used to the smell.

He spotted Brokenstar leaning against the den wall, Whitethroat never forgot how large his uncle was for a Shadowclan cat. He had Blossompaw taking his cock, pushing his hips upwards. Marigoldpaw was rubbing against Brokenstar and what made horrified Whitethroat the most was Hollowpaw was there as well.

"Clawface told me about your recent birth" Brokenstar mewed "Two mollies, great job"

Whitethroat nodded stiffly

"I want you to be one the front lines rather than kit making"

"Why?"

"My kin deserve the best" he shoved himself fully in Blossompaw at the best

"What do you want me to do?" he tried to ignore Hollowpaw cleaning Brokenstar's paw pads

"The overseer role is back in the clans once more, I want you and Lizardstripe to be ones" Brokenstar groaned, placing more pressure on Blossompaw's hips "I already have an apprentice in mind for you, Batkit"

"Alright, I'll train her well"

"I expect so" he groaned as he finished inside Blossompaw who moaned her own release. "Come along" he mewed

Blossompaw and Marigoldpaw followed silently. Hollowpaw glanced at Whitethroat

"How are you?" it was all he could ask

"Living" his daughter replied

He licked Hollowpaw's forehead softly, not being able to do much else. He walked outside with Hollowpaw leaning against him. He sat next to Badgerfang, his cousin was covered in blood but seemed unbothered. Blossompaw sat close to Palecloud and Beepaw, Whitethroat raised an eyebrow.

"All cats gather around for a clan meeting;" Brokenstar called "Time to raise our cats, Goldenpaw, Pinepaw, Foggypaw, Foxpaw, Hollowpaw, Viperpaw, Blossompaw, Marigoldpaw, and Whisperpaw come forward"

The apprentices did.

Brokenstar had been...well...going more bat-shit insane than normal. He and Bluestar had fought and Bluestar had took one of his lives and left him with a bad chest scar. He seemed to want to declare that he was still strong and had control over his clan.

Brokenstar had been encouraging cats of his elite to 'make sure the young ones stay in line'. Mossclaw followed his words to a T when he decided to rape Houndbelly. The young molly had gotten pregnant and gave birth to three kits, she was too young and her body couldn't take it well, one was born still, another died three days after birth and the only survivor was Batkit. Whisperpaw had been attacked by Toadpelt and was knocked out in the medicine den for a half-moon.

Brokenstar has been trying to increase his bloodline to no end. Dewflare's new litter on the way. Dawncloud's expecting again, Darkflower already had Scorchfang's kits, Redkit and Emberkit was now expecting Brokenstar's kits again.

Brokenstar has been expanding his connections through Dewflare trying to round up new members for the clan. Duskthorn was a good start but Whitethroat knew it would expand in time.

"Goldenpaw you will be known as Goldendusk, Hollowpaw you shall be known as Hollowheart, Pinepaw you shall be known as Pinetail, Whisperpaw you shall be known as Whisperleaf, Foggypaw you shall be known as Foggyclaw, Foxpaw you shall be known as Foxtrot, Viperpaw you shall be known Viperfang, Marigoldpaw you will be known as Marigoldcloud you will become a permanent queen and I've already offered myself as your mate. Blazefang, since Viperfang and Marigoldcloud have shown promise you may return to your warrior duties for the next 3 moons"

Blazefang just stared at Brokenstar but said nothing. There was nothing really to say if she didn't want to be killed.

"Blossompaw you shall be known as-"

"Wait Brokenstar" Blossompaw cut in, her voice was honey sweet

Brokenstar's gaze snapped down to the white molly "Yes" he said this with gritted teeth, he didn't like to be interrupted. What he liked was watching cats in pain or below him.

"I want to be a seer, I've been having dreams lately" Blossompaw mewed

"It's true, we've been talking" Palecloud mewed "She picks up signs better than Beepaw at the moment Brokenstar"

Brokenstar drew his unsheathed paw to his face, seeming to fight a hiss. "Fine, Palecloud you may train Blossompaw"

The gray and white tom padded over quickly, touching noses with her and leading her away into the medicine den with Beepaw following after them.

"Anyway" Brokenstar growled "Dirtkit you will be known as Dirtpaw and Goldendusk will be your mentor, Rottingkit you shall be known as Rottingpaw and I will mentor you, Elderkit you will be known as Elderpaw and Hollowheart will be your mentor, Lizardkit you will be known as Lizardpaw and Cinderfur will mentor you, Muddykit you shall be known as Muddypaw and Viperfang will mentor you, Adderkit you shall be known as Adderpaw and Mudfoot will mentor you, Copperkit you shall be known as Copperpaw and Turtleshell will mentor you, Pricklekit you shall be known as Pricklepaw and Sootmask will be your mentor, and Batkit you shall be known as Batpaw and Whitethroat will be your mentor"

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Cardcaptor Sakura S1

For faithfulness reasons, I’ll forgo rewatching in English even though I’m Jared 19 and never learned how to read 

I will say the original English dub had a BANGER of a theme song and I do miss that

"I’m a Fourth Grader at Tomoeda Elementary” I know I watched this like when I was age 7 or smth but SHE’S LIKE 10?? OH MY GOD who is letting this ten-year-old roam the streets

“I’m gonna stomp on him” [Lucille Bluth voice] good for her

I fully forgot Sakura had a dad I was ready to accept her Grade 11 brother raising her

Sakura’s roller blades give me visceral memories of my barbie skates

Lmao is Yuki’s ability to throw a piece of candy at a child from a moving bicycle backwards foreshadowing his superhero abilities

Okay having checked this scene in both English versions and Japanese, my opinion no one asked for: the Aminax version is bad voices on all counts, Japanese has a better voice for Toya and original English dub has a better voice for Sakura and Yukito (who they called Julian lmao) I am not accepting constructive criticism 

Tomoyo and Sakura sound so similar I could not even tell that Tomoyo was speaking omg

“There isn’t anything cuter or more interesting than you Sakura-chan” Tomoyo is really honest with her feelings I guess ten-year-olds be like that sometimes

“Is someone there” home invasions are what happens when you don’t lock your front door

This is not a study lmao this is a personal library there is hardly a workspace just aisles of shelves

Oh shit The Clow WIND RAIN SHADOW WOOD SWORD POWER THUNDER SLEEP CARD CAPTORS OF THE CLOW EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED NOW

Wait if this is hanging out in her dad’s study was her dad the last Cardcaptor lmao

Or probs her mom, since she’s gone the way of all anime moms

Sakura is accepting this whole “tiny magical flying lion” thing p well

“I accidentally fell asleep” “For how long” “30 years” same

“Stand right over there” Kerberos does not ask permission before magical girl transforming you lmao

“Why are you acting so wimpy” bc she’s 10 and you’re asking her to fight a giant ghost bird???

Honestly I love a good quest-to-collect-important-items maybe Inuyasha and DBZ ruined my taste but it’s a great formula 

“You’ll be a better adult if you have all sorts of experiences in your life” r u going to take career counselling advice from a tiny flying lion Sakura

I do kind of miss Kero’s slightly unhinged young man energy

I like that whenever Sakura’s brother is rude she steps on his foot or kicks him fkjhjgkh excellent little sister depiction

I was expecting more secrecy but it is very funny to see Tomoyo try to convince her friend to be a superhero

“Do a flashy one” kfhkjdhkj Kero supports the use of magic powers for showing off

“Trademark poses and skills are the basic parts of being a magical girl” oh my gooood

I mean if I walked into my school and there was a mountain of haphazard desks waiting there I too would be threatened 

Sakura is the only one in this group who has a reasonable understanding of what ten-year-olds should be allowed to do

LMAO @ Tomoyo’s team of bodyguards dropping her off to break into the school ONLY TO DRIVE AWAY

Tomoyo and Kero’s friendship is killing me the SHENANIGANS

I’m not sure I accept this light logic bc you need light to cast a shadow

Sakura’s “heart-racing first date” ur TEN oh my god

I mean it’s nice that Sakura wants to save the penguin but why did it take that for her to get upset it was going to drown a whole adult woman

Did Toya just RIP APART a WHIRLPOOL with his BARE HANDS

I wonder how Toya feels that his little sister has a crush on his boyfriend lmao

This cell phone is really top of the line for 1999 lmao I love it 

U know if I were a high school student and my friend asked my 10 year old sibling out to lunch instead of me I’d be confused

"They’re not even gonna hold hands? Kids these days” This is a VERY weird vibe for an episode

You know I guess if you never watch the second episode you never have context for all of these superhero outfits LMAO

None of these locations have security cameras I guess the 1990s was a lawless time

Will all of Yuki’s magical advice be delivered in the form of mysterious field trips

LMAO @ YUKITO ALWAYS TAKING SAKURA TO TOYA’S TEMP JOBS

Say what you will about the ominous influence of the other card, I think Wood is being fairly polite since it’s contorting around her house instead of destroying it lmao

“I was planning to film ‘Sakura Dances in the Jungle’ in the park today” I love Tomoyo 

Every little girl in this show sounds so similar lmao this is not good for my distracted watching style 

Wow Ms Maki is really unloading on these two fourth grade girls 

Since Tomoyo clearly interacts with even the more spirit-like Clow Cards I really have to wonder why no one else in this town is seeing these giant ghost monsters loom around the city

Well I guess this episode is a direct response to my previous comment 

“I can’t stand scary stories” says the girl who spends her nights going into isolated areas and fighting magical ghosts

Seeing Sakura activate her Fly card really gives me overwhelming nostalgia for the days I wanted nothing more than to be a Cardcaptor I used to wave around a toy broom like that magic key ahhhhhhhh

In the absence of the first English voice and with the added gentle Japanese intonation for his speaking, I am constantly forgetting that Yukito’s character is a 16-year-old boy 

Toya is really casually bomb-dropping the fact that he used to see ghosts and Yuki’s just like ‘dope are there ghosts around now’

Omg Kero’s sad face as he dropped the flower in Sakura’s lap 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I want to see if she wants to tell me something” like maybe ‘don’t run around town at night chasing ghosts ur 10!!!’ 

UHHHH AGAIN TOYA REAL CASUAL ABOUT THE GHOST THING 

Yukito Tsukishiro: Chronic Aid-er and Abet-er of Pre-teen Mischief 

Also if I’m right his name means something like “Ice White Moon?” Very heavy-handed foreshadowing lmao

“After we left, I went to the museum again and borrowed one” TOMOYO U CASED THE JOINT KJDHFKJHF

WHY IS EVERY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL KID IN THIS TOWN ABLE TO BREAK INTO THIS MUSEUM SO EASILY

Tomoyo is eerily well-prepared for this mission it’s like she has been planning to burgle a museum all her life

They really made an executive choice to have both a Yuuki and a Yuki that was a decision that someone made

Oh hey it’s the other pre-teen supehero!!! That guy!!

The more I think about it, the stranger the height difference between Sakura and her brother becomes bc compared to him she’s really like 2.5 feet tall they did not pick a proportion scale

U see this what I mean by gentle intonation, Syaoran somehow sounds older than Yuki simple by roughness of voice

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH TOYA U DEFEND UR SISTER

“Here, a steamed pork bun” Yuki sure nows how to de-escalate lmao 

“That is made out of an insulator as well” Tomoyo is really prepared for any and every situation

It’s not fair of Li to compare what is probably years of magical training from his family to ‘trial by fire for eight weeks with a plush toy who doesn’t explain anything important until critical moments’

I’m really not sure what’s happening with Rika and the teacher but I DON’T LIKE IT

“I just want to be with you as long as possible” [cut to floral pattern] Tomoyo is aiming to supersede Yuki as Gentle Shojo Protagonist Sakura Fixates On looool

I’m sure there’s NOTHING significant about this familiar-looking sword brooch

Kero biting Li whenever whenever he says something rude to Sakura kghkjghk direct feminist action

What IS THIS business with Li running away flustered like that are pre-teen Cardcaptors ONLY allowed to have a crush on Yukito

“I guess I’ll have to beat him up once” Toya has zero qualms about fighting a ten-year-old

Two fourth graders giving Yukito chocolate while he peacefully hangs out with his boyfriend is the funniest version of executing this weirdness that could happen

What I’m really wondering is how the hell they cut out or explained away Li’s crush in the first English anime

“You were just a fledgling teacher and you married one of your [high school] students!!” u did WHAT what the FUCK MR. KINOMOTO I’m on Sonomi’s side

“Mother got married when she was 16″ MR. KINOMOTO CANCELLED! BANNED! THE HELL IS THIS!

“It was I who was granted time with Nadeshiko from her 16th to 27th birthdays” GO 2 JAIL DO NOT PASS GO 

This episode has added a lot of layers to this show none of which I like

“What kind of person was my dad” someone who should be banned from teaching

“Your father is a disgusting person” WELL

SONOMI I KNOW UR TRYING TO BE NICE BUT HE HAS AT LEAST ONE MAJOR FLAW

Lmao they’re not even giving context why Yuki is around anymore he’s just an accepted artifact of the Kinomoto household

How is that the Time card is Li’s but not Thunder since he also returned that one to its original form

“Their fastest confirmed speed is over 100km/h” Yamazaki leave Li alone he just wants to adore the sloths jhfkhgjhgkhg

Ahhhhhh Li helping Sakura get the Power card?? These motives are quite hard to read but it seems sweet

OMGGG @ TOMOYO MAKING SAKURA DEADLIFT A PLAYGROUND

“I heard a rumour that everyone who asked Kinomoto out has been denied.” Well. [x]

“It’s one of the seven strangest things at this school, that both Kinomoto and Tsukishiro don’t have girlfriends.” WELL. [x]

AWWWWW YUKI DOESN’T LEAVE THE OTHER PRE-TEEN FAN CLUB MEMBERS OUT OF HIS KIND GESTURES

[Hannibal Buress voice] I was so caught up in euphoria of festival arcs, that for like a minute I lived in a world where the rest of this anime didn’t exist 

TOYA BEING THE STAR OF DRAG CINDERELLA... OP UR MIND

I have no idea what the premise of the next Clow Card is but I really hope it’s “turn u into whatever ur acting as” bc I will LOSE my mind

I have not heard Yuki once intone as passionately as he did when he thought Toya was going to fall 

“You like someone else” 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

“I didn’t promise anyone else a dance” Can I just say I LOVE TOYA?

The moment of stillness before Yukito revealed who he was asking to dance lmao... the repressed teenage wlw inside me LIVES

Yuki and Toya tag-teaming as the Sakura Support Team my heart!!

Geolocating someone from a fax... the incredible 90sness of this act....

I seriously don’t understand this world in which you leave 5- and 10-year-olds unattended for hours where are your child welfare laws

I am really choosing to ignore how absolutely bananas the concept of Tomoyo having a hidden Sakura Movie Theatre is

Speaking of weird, are we just trusting that this old man is normal? Is everyone doing that? I’m still not ready to trust yet the Sakura’s dad situation really burned me

“Girls look their best when they smile” a sweet thought that would not fly if an old man I just met told me that lmao

I’m REALLY not trusting this old man dressing up this girl in his dead (missing?) granddaughter’s clothes and staring broodily when she mentions there is a parent with her

“My great-granddaughter seemed happy” YOUR WHAT NOW 

Their school trips seem much more fun than ours were we never went to the beach or fishing or got disappeared briefly in a cave

It continues to be funny how Sakura and Li have 0% tension re: Clow Cards, 99% tension re: Yukito who is already in a committed Something or the Other with Sakura’s brother

“Why were you on the roof” “Because it’s nice out today” LOL YUKITO

There’s no rhyme or reason to these card types huh some are like “I will destroy an entire zoo for fun” and other ones are like “mood lighting :)”

Sakura really isn’t out here to teach us any lessons lol it’s really a ‘get others to do your homework if you can get away with it’ episode

Rounding out the triad of superpowered pre-teens with Meilin I suppose

“Syaoran is my fiance” I have had it up to HERE with this anime cousinfuckery I don’t CARE if it’s cool in Japan or Hong Kong or whatever STOP BEING WEIRD WITH YOUR COUSINS

Poor Syaoran he was doing so well with getting along with Sakura until Meilin got here

"It was done by a girl again?” Oh my god is Meilin beating up grown men in parks for street cred

“It seems our relationship chart has gotten rather complicated” Tomoyo probably means astrology chart but here’s my understanding so far:

Speaking of complex relationships I wonder how Meilin will react to Syaoran’s crush on Yuki

This rivalry between Sakura and Meilin could not be more one-sided

I really was wondering for a second if the card was going to split in half

I love the vibe of Sakura and Toya teaming up to help their creepy dad but even MORE SO I love that Yukito is In This Household

“The contents are already up here” This episode really doesn’t hit the same way now that cloud storage exists and also what were all those floppy disks for if not to save your work Mr. Kinomoto

I love that Tomoyo always pulls her weight in her superhero sidekick role like she is here to support and help whenever needed 

Sakura using her powers to impress her crush with a ghost duet lmao these priorities 

“Sakura’s Little Adventure” I see what u did there

Kero’s little shoulder pat with his paw to let Sakura know he’s there aw

Omg this Clow Card is so cute “Is it your fault I’m so small now?” [nods pleasantly]

It is very bold of Sakura to be doing magic so casually when her brother and Yuki are right downstairs 

I like that this show recognizes the inherent intimacy of allowing someone to cut your hair

“Information about you has gotten around to the cards” well this is an ominous start to this funky tarot reading

Well the experience of seeing his little sister try to murder him has got to be traumatizing for Toya I hope he doesn’t remember this

UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM DID TOYA JUST FALL OFF OF A CLIFF

“Can you give me a break... and stop looking like Sakura” EXCUSE ME

“My mom’s up there too, so say hi to her for me” OH MY GOOOOD TOYA REALLY DOES SEE GHOSTS AHHHHHHHHHHH

WAIT SO IT WAS A CLOW CARD DOES TOYA HAVE MAGICAL POWERS TOO

Omg @ Toya feeding Yuki from his bed this really is an intimate episode

I kind of appreciate the slow build of this show like it took them 25 episodes to introduce meaningful stakes

“But it might be tougher than the earth going ‘boom!’ Depending on who you are...” Well hello threatening figure in sunglasses standing outside Sakura’s house what’s up

“I’ll look the other way” Ms Mizuki is literally this meme:

I can only assume that if Toya knows Ms. Mizuki then she must be a ghost

Personally if Mizuki gives Syaoran the heebie jeebies I trust his instincts

“Um... do you like Yukito too?” Oh my goooood they’re sincerely discussing being Not Straight in middle school in this 90s anime that I watched when I was 7 I cannot believe

“And it’s been a year since you told me you loved me here” WHY DOES EVERYONE IN THIS FAMILY WANT TO DATE SOMEONE TOO OLD FOR THEM WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING DATING SOMEONE TOYA’S AGE MIZUKI

Also I have to rethink every thought I had about Toya being gay. I mean bi is great too but my thoughts..... racing...........

“Because the next time I see you, you’ll have someone else that you’ll be in love with” Yukito BF confirmed but oh my GOD this relationship chart IS complicated good lord

If there’s anything the episode “Sakura and Her Shrine of Memories” has taught me it’s that everyone in this show is bisexual and all teachers in their neighbourhood should be in jail

I understand that Meilin is a kid but poor Syaoran he is constantly being harassed 

I love Yuki’s bottomless stomach lmao

Syaoran and Sakura have such a genuinely supportive relationship but it is very funny how they try simultaneously to get Yuki’s attention with the exact same words

“I’ve been thinking for a while that Mr. Terada is a lot like my dad” oh thank you Rika for someone finally being normal in this show

“Well it’s a harmless one” You see this is what I mean the dichotomy of Clow Cards is like... “I’m going trap you in a maze until you perish” or “I’m gonna give you a sugar rush :]”

I like that Sakura and Syaoran are starting to partner up as a duo on purpose like yessss I love a 1-2 finish and friendship development

Ahhh poor Syaoran he’s realizing that Yukito’s #1 in his life is the Kinomoto fam

We’re all familiar with the eternal struggle of whether using ur superpowers for school sports is cheating 

AWWW SYAORAN USING HIS POWERS FOR MAGICAL PEP TALKS AFTER HE HELPED TURN REI’S PET FOX INTO A POKEMON CARD THAT’S MY BOOOOY

“I will stomp on him” it’s been 31 episodes let Sakura stomp on her brother

Oh my GOOOD does this Big card mean that Sakura WILL FINALLY STOMP ON TOYA LMAO

Ur telling me that no one else in this ENTIRE TOWN notices this altercation of a giant preteen vs a dragon

Why does the logic for how voices travel based on size apply for the Little card (when Toya was speaking) and not for the Big card (when Sakura is speaking)

Sgskdhgkhkgjh honestly body switching as a trope will never not be funny

Syaoran blushing and running away from Sakura oh how the turn tables

Every domestic scene that Yuki and Toya have adds ten years to my life we love some gay/bi teens about to be gay/bi adults

Ffskhhfkj I absolutely cannot relate to this Southern Hemisphere nonsense of finding ten degrees celsius arctic cold like BRO that is a normal spring day here

“We’re not frozen because we have magical powers” I know that cutaway was to confirm Mizuki’s magical powers again but this would’ve been a hilarious time to reveal that like Yamazaki the Compulsively Lying Classmate had powers

Awwww he likes her now that’s cute 

“I got work that day” I will bet someone ten dollars that Toya is working at that quiz rally

Update from 5 minutes later: PAYPAL ME $10

Kero keeps whispering to the moon when in fact some iteration of the moon is right around the corner (literally)

GOOOOOOOOD SYAORAN REALIZING HE HAS A CRUSH ON BOTH HALVES OF THAT TEAM KILLS ME SWEET BOY

Shared Gaze of People Who Have Dated* Toya and Have Magical Powers They Haven’t Revealed Yet

*Go to jail Mizuki

I am really going crazy wondering when they’re gonna reveal stuff about Yukito like bitchhhhhhh I know you’re a moon man when will u tellll usss

How many more times will Sakura have this same threatening dream before she realizes her math teacher is probably going to try to kill her

Update from one minute later: I guess it was exactly one more time

“That’s right, Yukito’s birthday is on Christmas day” is this coming to be a coming of age where he like suddenly sprouts wings at age 17

I’ve been thinking this for a while but this show makes it seem like Japan has a much more fun approach to athletics than my school experiences

Yukito really is unflappable about hanging out with a bunch of kids half his height huh he’s like the Fourth Grader Whisperer

I KNEW IT YUKITO NEVER GOES WITH SAKURA ANYWHERE UNLESS HER BROTHER WILL ALSO BE WORKING THERE DFHKDFHKJ every time it’s just “Hey Toya :)”

“This kid...” HAHAH TOYA HAS JUST REALIZED THAT SYAORAN HAS A CRUSH ON HIS LITTLE SISTER AND HIS BOYFRIEND THE UTTER SUSPICION IN HIS TONE

“Wind become a binding chain” Whoops Sakura foiled by 4th grade knowledge of the elements

Oh shiiiit love a world-building moment now we have two card combos in play ayyyyy

Lmao @ Kero using his returned powers immediately for fireworks mood lighting is a serious Clow Card priority

“I would like to come again this year” everything in this show feels like foreshadowing for dramatic irony

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Eight

Warnings: swears, smoking (which is real bad kiddos, but I couldn’t help it, it looks so sexy)

A/N: we’re back to some good ol’ fashioned ben content here folks, and it’s all unrequited fluff (that is a term i have coined, feel free to use it, i think it’s perfect).

w/c: 3.5k+

Chapter Eight

The next week went by in a blur. You were filming the Japan tour, which made you hellishly busy. Having so many extras in one room, along with all the lights and sound tech, kept you on your toes constantly. You hung out with the guys when you could but often you were called away the second you sat down. You would always groan and roll your eyes exaggeratedly, but part of you was glad for the work. It kept your mind off everything. Ending things with Matteo, even though they had been so short-lived, weighed heavily on you.  It brought all the memories of the first time tumbling back in like a crack in a dam, and the effort of not getting sucked under the waves was exhausting. On top of it all, the lack of any possibility with Matty sent your mind reeling back to Ben, and it didn’t help that he looked so fucking good in the costume. That white, fringed waistcoat had you all but drooling, and kept finding yourself staring at the necklaces that fell against his chest, bouncing softly with the rhythm of his drumming. After all the emotional turmoil of the last week you were exactly where you started, with an inappropriate crush on a colleague, only now you had the trauma of a past heartbreak woven in. Great. 

On the plus side, Josh seemed to finally be getting the hint and leaving you alone to do your job, even if he was a little sulky with you.

“Y/N, can you come help us for a second,” you heard Joe call, as they waited around for Rami to sort something out with Polly. 

“What d'you need?” you asked when you reached them. 

“We have a very important question we need your considerable expertise to answer,” he continued.

“Does this top make me look more like a dove or an albatross?” Gwil asked with absolute solemnity. You had to smile to yourself at their blatant efforts to spend time with you.

“Oh, for sure an albatross, you’re far to big to be a dove,” you confirmed, mimicking his tone. Joe gave a triumphant, “I knew it.” 

“But I’m so graceful! Albatrosses are such lanky things,” he pouted.

“Um, I believe the plural is albatroi,” Joe teased with mock snobbishness.

You smirked, ignoring him and turned to Gwil, “I think they’ve very majestic. Just because something is big it doesn’t make it less beautiful,” you cooed, standing up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. You turned to leave but as you did Joe moaned, “Where are you going?” 

Before you could respond with a sarcastic, “To do my job”, he complained, “We’ve barely seen you this week, we miss you, Y/N.” 

Ben piped up for the first time, “Are you really so busy that you can’t have a conversation with us?”

You felt guilt washing over you as you met their eyes, the three of them looking at you like abandoned puppies, desperate for attention. 

“I’m sorry guys, I’ve just had a lot on my plate the past few days.”

“Exactly, that’s why you should be hanging out with us, your friends, to take your mind off it all.”

“It’s not like I don’t have any work to do,” you defended. 

“Not in the evenings! You keep blowing us off.” 

“Next time, I promise.” 

“Tonight, my place,” Ben said assuredly, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment you were distracted by a trickle of sweat running down the hollow where his collarbones met. “I live not far from here, we can get in some beers and snacks, have a chill one. Most of us don’t have to be in tomorrow.” Only Rami was due on set the next day.

You nodded, knowing full well that there would be no getting out of it even if you wanted to, but the thought of spending a night with the boys was actually quite a comfort. I would be good to relax and let loose a bit, have some fun.

“Okay, tonight.” 

Nervous energy infected Ben for the rest of the day. He was exited to spend time with you again, especially outside of work. You’d been distant, and he missed your tenacity, your unbridled excitement to work, to be part of the family that was celebrating something so wonderful. He missed the way you had always showed up to work grinning, infecting the rest of them with your enthusiasm. As much as it pained him to see you so deflated, he couldn’t deny his relief when you’d told them about breaking things off with Matteo. It made him finally realise that he had to do something about his feelings for you, even if you rejected him; he couldn’t keep pining after you, wishing something would happen between you but never trying to make that a reality. He couldn’t risk seeing you with someone else again, at least not without telling you how he felt. If you met someone else and he lost his chance he’d never forgive himself. 

As he let you all into his apartment he thanked God that he’d recently cleaned. Lucy had been invited along too, and arrived soon after you guys got there from set. She’d only done a few days with everyone but she was already fitting effortlessly into the group. And you could see they way she and Rami looked at each other, even if they couldn’t yet. You looked around Ben’s place, a little nervous at the intimacy of it — being in his home, his private space. The front door opened to an open-plan living room and kitchen with a large island separating them, and a couple of sofas clustered round the TV. The corridor led to two other others rooms, you presumed the master bedroom and a guest room, and the bathroom. The decor was minimalistic, mostly white and grey with some bright green notes from a couple of houseplants, but there was a ruggedness to it, like a layer of venire was hiding something more unkempt. It looked like him. 

You noticed a couple of dog bowls in the corner of the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me you have a dog!” you squealed. 

“Yeah Frankie, she’s a beagle. My parents are looking after her while I’m filming.” He showed you a picture of him with a very young looking puppy laying in his arms. He seemed so soft in his hoodie with his tousled hair, as he looked down at the little pup, holding one of her paws affectionally between his fingers. What a precious dad. 

“That’s adorable.” You were talking about Frankie, of course. Ben didn’t need to know that you really meant him. 

“Who wants a cold beer?” he called, taking cans out of the fridge and restocking it with the ones you had bought on the way there. The chucked one to you, which you caught and tapped the top to get rid of the bubbles. While the others opened their drinks and made themselves comfortable on the sofas, you instinctively went to the cupboards to help. 

“You can sit down, you know,” Ben said, glancing you over his shoulder. 

“I know,” you shrugged, “Where do you keep your bowls?”

He motioned to a cupboard and you got a couple out to serve the snacks in. 

“I thought I was supposed to be hosting.” 

“Everyone can use an extra pair of hands,” you smiled, popping a peanut into your mouth. 

“Chuck me one of those,” he said, so you did. He tried to catch it in his mouth but it hit his chin and bounced onto the floor. You giggled, “Here, try agin.” The second time he caught it and grinned widely, “Nailed it.” 

“Dream team.”

You started to make your way over to the others, hands full with snacks.

“Bring my beer with you when you sit down, will you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied. 

You were sat on the floor beside Ben’s legs due to the lack of sofa space. You didn’t mind, Rami and Lucy were curled up together on the smaller sofa (apparently they did know it, because they could barely keep their hands off each other), Gwil was on the armchair, and Joe and Ben were on the bigger sofa. You could have squeezed on but you were more comfortable on the floor, your legs curled up to your side, leaning ever so slightly against Ben’s calf.

“Okay, so who would win in a fight between Freddie and Lady Gaga?” joked Joe.

“Excuse me, why on earth would they be fighting?” you interjected with incredulity.

“Hypothetically,” he said rolling eye eyes emphatically.

“Hypothetically, they would hug and fangirl over each other and probably sing a beautiful duet in perfect harmony.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he relented.

“I’ve got one,” you said, shifting your weight, “who would win in a fight between John Deacon and Eugene Sledge?”

“Ooph, that’s a tough one,” Joe hesitated.

“Sledge, surely,” Ben reasoned, “he’s a trained marine.”

“Yeah but Deacy is scrappy, I think he could hold his own,” you hummed. 

“Okay, what about Angel versus Roger,” Joe offered.

Ben grunted, “That’s not fair, Angel has superpower wings.”

“Rog v. Walter?” you suggested.

Gwil roused from his sleepy silence, “Who’s Walter?” 

“From Woman in White.”

“You watched that?” Ben muttered, looking down at you with mild astonishment.

“Mmm,” you hummed affirmatively. “You look good in period costume. I particularly love the sideburns,” you joked. 

“Oh fuck off,” he nudged your arm with his knee. You giggled, but the image of Ben in those baggy white linen shirts lingered in your mind’s eye.

“Gwil, wake up,” Joe scolded, throwing a bottle top at the welshman. It hit him in the face and he jolted upright. “Sorry, the beer’s making me drowsy.”

“Let’s put some music on,” you proposed, and Ben motioned to his speaker, inviting you to play something.

You played Dancing With Myself by Billy Idol, and instantly started to sway your hips to the drum beat, letting the rhythm travel up your body once the guitar came in. 

“Excellent choice Y/N,” Joe praised, tapping his foot appreciatively. 

True to the lyrics, you danced around the middle of the room, kicking your feet and unapologetically enjoying yourself. Before long Rami and Lucy got up too, and shimmied around together, laughing adorably as they tried not to step on each other’s feet. 

You glanced at Ben, only to see he was already watching you. You beamed, shaking your hair out and you pointed at him, “Get up here, Hardy.” He shook his head with a laugh, but you weren’t having it. The beers had loosened your inhibitions and you wanted to dance with him, so that’s what you were going to do. You leant down, still swinging your hips and grabbed his hand, taking his beer and putting it on the table. You pulled him to his feet and purred, “Dance with me.”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” he whined, but you didn’t care. You pulled his body close to yours and let your hips loose. You ran your hands through your hair, letting hang down over your shoulders, and bopped your head to the beat. Shimmying round in circles, and pulling Ben along with you when he got too static, you laughed and smiled, letting your heart soar for the first time in weeks. 

“You look happy,” Ben murmured. 

You smiled, “You said that’s what I deserve, right? Someone who makes me happy?”

“Right,” a wistful smiled pulled at his mouth. Bright green met your eyes and confidence seemed to flash there as he said, “Who made you this happy?”

A grin split your face, and you tugged at your lip with your teeth. “Me,” you beamed and rushed to  play Good as Hell by Lizzo. That song was exactly what you needed, and you belted along, tossing your hair and grinding your hips unashamedly. You watched Ben over your shoulder and smirked at the look of awe and hunger painted over his features. Seducing him would of course be a terrible idea, and you definitely weren’t trying to, but you couldn’t help but shimmy a little harder when you saw him watching. In the end though you were dancing for yourself.

When the song ended you were sweating and decided you needed some air. 

“I’ve got a balcony, here I’ll come with you,” Ben said after you had inquired.

You followed him, grabbing your beer as you went. You shut the door behind you and sucked in the cool November air. It was crisp, a welcome refresher. You took a sip of your drink and watched as Ben pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He slipped one into his mouth and, raising an eyebrow to you, offered you one. 

You nodded, “Cheers,” and leaned in towards the lighter he held up. Puffing lightly, you watched the flame dance in the moonlight. With the cigarette lit you inhaled deeply, letting the tobacco burn your throat a little and the nicotine make you lightheaded. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ben mused as lit his. The way he sucked in his cheeks, the cigarette dangling from his lips, had you all but dripping with desire. 

“I don’t,” you responded, “But I went to uni.”

He nodded, understanding the implication, “I’m trying to cut down. Smoking kills and all that.”

You simpered, “It just looks so damn sexy though.”

“Right?” he chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. He raised his hand to his mouth to inhale, lifting his chin and extending his bottom lip as he did. Your eyes skimmed over the veins in his hand, protruding like a Renaissance sculpture. You licked your lips and took a drag.

“So tell me Benjamin, how’s it going with this crush of yours?” you pried, “You know, you still haven’t told me who she is. Assuming it is a she, of course.” 

He scoffed and shook his head, “It’s a she.” 

“You laugh but it could very easily have been Joe,” you giggled. Ben just took another drag, and looked out over the city below.

You persisted, “The fact that you haven’t told me who she is makes me think I must know her.”

Still he refused to look at you, so you nudged him with your elbow. 

“You could say that,” he mumbled. Triumph and envy swelled in you in equal measure. “I’m still not telling you who she is.”

“You told her how you feel yet?” He shook his head, dejected.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked with genuine curiosity.

“A sign she likes me back.”

“Ben, how could she not? Have you looked at yourself lately?” you said, incredulous. He gave a bitter laugh. “I mean it Ben, seriously. You’re kind, and smart, and passionate. I’ve seen your capacity for love, I can see it in your face when you talk about her, and she would be so lucky to be loved by you. Whoever she is.”

Smoking the last of your cigarette in silence, you looked up at the cloudless night sky, and admired the stars. You shivered as the bitter chill infected your skin.

“You cold?” 

“It’s my own fault,” you shook your head, “I should have brought a jacket.” He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, offering it to you. You took it gratefully and hugged it around your body, letting the heat still held in the fabric from Ben’s body envelop you. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms to warm you further, his biceps tightening where they emerged from the sleeves of his tshirt, and the veins in his forearms swelling. 

You hummed, “Thanks,” and met his eyes. They glistened, pupils blown in the dark, streetlights reflecting like constellations. There was something twinkling in them, something tender and inviting; you wanted to swim in them.

“You’ve got goosebumps,” you breathed, looking from his bare flesh to his face through your lashes.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. Little you knew, the bumps on his skin were as much from the cold as his proximity to you and the way you looked at him.

You unwrapped the jumper from around you and took a step towards him, leading his arms to wrap around your waist and then pulled it closed behind him. He shivered infinitesimally from your heat. Every inch of your torso was pressed against his, muscular arms pulling you so tight, but still you didn’t feel close enough. You let your head rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his deep, steady breaths. You inhaled the scent of him, natural and elemental, like a forest after rain. It was a forest you wanted to get lost in. A contented hum resounded somewhere deep in your chest and the vibrations of your body syncopated with his. Your eyes drifted shut and you succumbed to him, allowing him to infuse into your senses.

“You know,” he cooed, you could hear the smile in his voice, “We could go inside.”

“Not yet.”

You stayed like that for a little while, indulging your desire for intimacy, until the chill penetrated and you shivered. You followed Ben back inside, and when you offered him his jumper back he declined, saying, “Keep it on, it looks good on you.”

Your cheeks flushed discreetly. He took his seat on the sofa and you settled yourself beside him, squeezing into the gap between him and Joe.

“What have you lot been gossiping about then?” you said as you tucked your legs beneath you. 

“That guy Josh who kept hitting on you,” Rami explained. 

“That must have been horrible, Y/N,” Lucy gushed sympathetically. 

“It’s okay, I think he got the message eventually.”

“How come you said no? Just cause you work together?” Gwil questioned. 

You shrugged, “I mean I wasn’t attracted to him, but working together basically put paid to it from the start.”

“Would you ever break the rule?” Joe asked.

You had to stop yourself from glancing at Ben, but the urge was instinctive. “If had an absolute guarantee that it wouldn’t come back to bite me then sure, but no one can guarantee that.”

“What do you mean, ‘come back to bite you’?”

“Say I slept with you Joe,” you ignored his self-satisfied smirk, “and maybe one of us developed feelings for the other, or it got awkward between us, or we fell out, that could cost me my job and my reputation.”

“Oh come on, you wouldn’t get fired for hurt feelings,” he scoffed. 

“No Joe, you wouldn’t get fired for hurt feelings, I very much could. I’m expendable. If you kicked off and it damaged the on-set environment, the easiest way to solve that problem is to remove one of us, and it sure as hell won’t be you that gets sacked.”

The guys seemed shocked: they had clearly never thought of it from the perspective of those on the other side of the camera.

“Surely they wouldn’t just fire you though?” Gwil reasoned. 

You scoffed, “Producers like quick, easy solutions. Firing me and hiring one of the hundreds of people who would cut off their arm for this job is quick and easy. Believe me, they would.”

“You’re not expendable, Y/N,” Ben asserted. You opened your mouth to retaliate, but he cut you off, “You’re amazing at your job, I’ve never felt so at home on set and that’s down to you. You understand people, you know how to get the best out of everyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if this film collapsed without you.”

You smiled bashfully, a little embarrassed but warmed by his words. “Thanks, Ben,” you breathed.

“Okay, so if there was one person you’d break the rule for, who would it be?” Joe pressed. 

Ben’s name danced on your tongue. “Oh Hardy, for sure,” you smirked at the look on Joe’s face, “Tom, that is.” 

“Tom Hardy?” 

“Yeah, I’m really into the whole rugged bad boy thing,” you grinned. You looked pointedly at Ben who ran his tongue over his teeth under pursed lips.

You chatted aimlessly for a while, until Rami and Lucy made their excuses as they both had to be on set the next day. The scene featured just the two of them and only required a limited crew, so you’d been allowed the day off. However, you, Ben, Gwil, and Joe stayed up for hours, talking about everything and nothing. Despite the extra space you stayed curled up with Ben, at one point you laid your legs horizontally over his, and his hand rested easily just below your knee. You were vaguely aware of Joe and Gwil eyeing the effortless propinquity between you, but you didn’t care. A welcome, carefree contentedness had settled in you, and for the first time since Ben had tumbled drunk into your trailer so long ago you let yourself feel the way you did, and it set you free. Your feelings for Ben weren’t going to disappear straight away, so until they did you would just have to feel them, along with the inevitable longing that accompanied them when you reminded yourself that you couldn’t have him. But eventually they would pass, and you would move on.

tags: @anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland @mrsmazzello @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @devin-marie  @luvborhap @mercurycrowley @spaghetittiesbcimgay @valeriecarolinaw @saint-hardy @caborhapch @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud @drowse13 

(let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

[imagineyourworld-old]

Mischief Managed?

Loki x Reader 

Summary: After months of being away on a mission you return just in time for the annual Stark Industries gala, and to meet the newest member of the Avengers, who is... not from this world

NO SPOILERS - SET IN KIND OF AN AU WHERE NEITHER INFINITY WAR NOR ENDGAME EVER HAPPENED AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY

You fell into the soft seat and threw your dirty, sweaty and bloody jacket in the corner. 

“Couldn’t you have picked me up like ten minutes earlier? And maybe in a car or something, not a fucking jet!”

Your mission had been tough at first, getting members of various gang to trust you so you could unite them against their common enemy only to have most of them kill each other and arrest the survivors. Sam, Okoye and Maria Hill were supposed to pick them up and deliver them to various authorities. But then Clint and Bucky just had to fly in with their stupid Quinjet minutes before you could hunt the last gang member down and have her brought to justice. 

“Sam called and told us you were following one of them and that she had a large knife, you didn’t even have pepperspray!”, Clint defended their decision to pick you up too early rather than too late and in pieces. 

You rolled your eyes and watched Bucky turn a few switches before starting the engine and taking off. Meanwhile Clint was going over details for something, they were talking to low for you to understand. Okoye spreading a bright blue creeam on one of Maria’s nastier wounds. 

You just sat in your co-pilot seat and stared straight ahead. As if an untrained woman with a knife was reason enough to rush in and save you, a trained spy and assassin. The rescue attempt had lead to her and a few other villains getting away. 

“We said we’re sorry. We know you worked long and hard on that mission and had no right to do anything without your consent”, Bucky said with a side glance to you. 

You scoffed. He was right, you had asked Sam, Okoye and Maria for help, not the two dorks. But you also knew you had to forgive them eventually, mostly because both Bucky and Clint could annoy you to no end until you gave them what they wanted. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t secretly hold a grudge. 

A few hours later you fell into bed. Clean, but exhausted. 

You were about to fall asleep when a knock on the door woke you up again. 

You mumbled some words, unable to move or even open your eyes. 

The door creaked and your matres sunk next to you. A soft hand pushed the hair away from your face. You felt yourself smiling before you knew it. 

“Bruce... What is it?”

“Tony wanted me to personally invite you to his Stark Industries gala tonight.” 

Slowly you opened your eyes. Much like you, Bruce looked like he hasn’t slept much the past few days.

“And if I refuse?” 

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. 

“You know Tony, don’t you? The music and gossip and laughter will be so loud, as long as your on the premises you will always feel like your in the middle of the dance floor.” 

A sigh escaped your lips. You knew Bruce was right. 

“Black tie, I assume?” 

Bruce nodded, his unruly curls jumping up and down. 

“Natasha took the liberty of choosing a dress and shoes and whatever else for you, it should be in your closet.”

That’s when you really knew there was no way to escape this event. But if you had to attend you might as well sleep for a few hours before getting ready. 

“When does it start?”

Five hours later you entered the living room. A buffet was spread over the length of the large room, with a bar at each end and people standing and talking all over the place. 

“I’m glad you could make it.” 

The familiar voice made you turn around. 

“I can’t believe you came all the way from Wakanda for this”, you grinned. 

T’Challa shrugged. 

“Tony can be very persuasive.” 

You nodded and started making your way to the buffet, you hadn’t eaten all day. T’Challa followed you and fixed himself a plate as well. 

“How have things been these past few months?” 

The king piled salad on his plate, thinking about your question. 

“Nothing has changed much. Okoye really admires the way you handled your mission. And Shuri says she misses your fashion advise.”

You smiled at the memory of helping the young princess picking out various new outfits during your short visit to Wakanda last summer. 

“I see your still into elaborate dresses.”

T’Challa gestured at your dress. 

Natasha really had done a great job choosing a dress you would have brought yourself. It was a simple black dress with a few lace details around the arms, waist and knees. By contrast the shoes and the necklace were both sparkling in silver. 

After a few more minutes of conversation and finishing your dinner you excused yourself to catch up with a few other friends. 

It was getting darker by the second, so Tony ordered everyone outside to watch a firework show he had designed for this occasion. 

That’s where you finally bumped into the host himself and the Norse god beside him. 

“The food, the music, the decoration, everything is simply magnificent, Tony.” 

With a slight bow he accepted the compliment, but before he could say anything Thor started talking. 

“(Y/N), have you met the newest member of our team yet?” 

You opened your mouth in shock and glared at your friends. 

“You allowed a new member without consulting me? I thought we were a team!”

Tony opened his mouth to reply but once again Thor interrupted him. 

“I don’t think you will object because this new member is very special to me, has excellent manners and very useful skills.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

Thor turned around and dragged someone in a dark suit towards your small group. 

“Excuse me, I was talking to Wanda and-”

“See, great manners”, Thor interrupted the man. 

You looked at the blond, deciding not to say anything about his manners, before looking at the other man. 

He was tall, long dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Incredibly familiar. 

“Loki?! You’re an Avenger? They let you be an Avenger?” 

Thor just smiled and nodded. 

“Isn’t that great? I’ll let the two of you get acquainted.”

With a smile he dragged Tony away with him and left you alone with the god of mischief. 

You had many questions, many concerns. 

“How?” 

Loki looked around at all the other Avengers, business people and everyone else Tony seemed fit to invite. 

“Maybe we could talk somewhere more quiet?” 

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, this could not be a good idea. But then again, you had survived so much and even if you went somewhere more private there was no way Loki was stupid enough to kill you with all of the Avengers around. 

He lead you through the crowds still watching the fireworks towards a bench at the back of the building. 

“It’s a long story, but I’m gonna give you a summary: I was king of Asgard, Thor showed up, our sister is evil, we spend some time in space, we fought our sister, lost our home planet and landed on earth. During all that Thor and I started to talk, really talk and we made up. You may not believe me, at first no one did, but I really am trying to be good and do good.” 

You looked at Loki and he seemed... sincere. There was something vulnerable in his eyes, a lot of cover hurt and hope. 

“You know I have no reason at all to trust you.”

He nodded. 

“You tried to rule this planet.”

“That was a long time ago, I wasn’t myself back then.”

“You killed thousands.”

“I am really sorry.” 

You opened your mouth but no words would come out. 

Loki looked straight into your eyes and carefully took your small hands in his large ones. 

The touch send a shiver through your entire body, made your blood boil and freeze at the same time. 

“I did terrible, terrible things. I can’t take them back, I can only apologise and try to make up for every mistake I made.”

You were usually good at reading people, but Loki? Another chapter. 

“So I’m supposed to believe you left all your mischief behind you? Even though you are, you know, the god of mischief?”

A small smile spread on Loki’s face. 

“No, never. I’m not there yet, but I’m trying to focus on pranks, jokes, harmless mischief. At least in the long run. I might hurt people, be mean or cruel, but I’m working on that.” 

That, at least, was something you could believe. 

Loki squeezed your hands and moved a little closer. 

“You know, my mother always said that a clever and pretty woman would one day bring out the best in me.” 

He smiled at you. A smile full of innocence, hope, mischief and admiration. 

“I take it you know all about me?” 

He shrugged. 

“I read all the files, but I’m sure there are stories you could still tell me, character traits I could get to know. Things you could teach me.”

He said the last part in a low, husky voice that made you question your sanity. 

But you couldn’t deny that he was very handsome and intriguing. 

“You know, my mother always said the best way to judge a man’s character is by the way he dances with the woman he fancies.” 

Without missing a beat Loki got up from the bench, bowed down a bit and offered you his hand. 

“My lady, may I have this dance?” 

You couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Your brother did say you have good manners.” 

You laid your hand in Loki’s and put the other on his shoulder. He pulled you closer. 

“There are other things I’m good at”, he whispered in your ear. 

You threw your head back laughing. 

“You sure are a charmer, but how about you buy me dinner first?” 

Loki twirled you around, your hair flying around your head and your necklace catching both the light of the full moon and your partner’s eyes. 

“Tomorrow at seven?” 

You just smiled. 

“Usually I don’t go out with guys who wanted to take over my planet.” 

Loki pulled you father away from the bench so the moon would shine directly at your dance.

“I’ve never danced without music before either.” 

He just smiled. A smile that reached both his lips and his eyes. 

“And I’ve never felt so close to someone I just met before”, you admitted in a whisper. 

Suddenly Loki stopped moving, getting you to a halt as well. 

He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your lips and his hair on your cheeks. Your eyes looked. 

“I never met a human as brilliant as you. I never danced with a woman as beautiful as you. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you.” 

Gently he pressed his lips against yours and pulled your body even closer to his own. 

Time stopped and moved faster at the same time, you were happy in your own little bubble, away from the noise of the gala, away from missions, away from both good and evil. 

You pulled apart to catch your breath, but Loki didn’t hesitate to rest his forehead on yours, once again your lips were only centimetres apart. 

“I wanted to be good, for my brother, my newfound friends, to right all my wrongs, but now I feel like I only want to be good for you.”

You smiled and pecked his lips. 

“I don’t mind a little mischief every now and then.”

I feel like the part before the reader meets Loki is way too long and the reader just gets over Loki being an Avenger way too fast, but the story just came to me and I wrote it down without really thinking, so I hope that, in a way, it will still seem natural. 

Anyway, I hope you at least somewhat enjoyed it, thanks for reading