#(not that there’s much risk of that. narrowing down my focus choices was just as hard)

[danielnelsen]

having a LOT of fun recreating my warden and hawke using the ttrpg system

[vampsquerade]

i need angst so bad in my life

horangi with a reader that gets mortally wounded in battle trying to protect him only to find out that horangi’s been shot regardless and they both die next to each other?

ACTUAL ANGST IN MY INBOX TOO??? sorry for uploading this so late and making it so graphic. The fic will be under the cut and will be marked appropriately due to the graphic content.

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Horangi x GN!Reader: We Can Only Do So Much

Trigger Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT, heavy angst, angst with a sad ending, very minute hurt/comfort, graphic depictions of gun violence, death, excessive bleeding, fatal injuries,

Contracted to KorTac back in 2022, you’d just so happened to find your other half there. Hong-Jin ‘Horangi’ Kim was the kindest man you’d ever met. Sure, he had a bit of a troubled past and he might have fucked around a bit too hard and accidentally found out; choices have consequences, blah, blah, blah…but all of those consequences subsequently lead him straight to someone he had loved. And that someone? Well surprise, it just so happened to be you! And now here you were, 4 years later and in the second year of your newfound relationship. Life felt so much better with him, even though you were just some mercenary that joined to have a better shot at having high value targets.

More risk, more reward; that was your personal motto.

The two of you were to set off on an off-the-grid duo mission, one that would take out an infamous drug-lord. This very same drug lord was from South Korea and…well, you can see why Hong-Jin was borderline afraid of the day this mission would come. He practically was never allowed to go back home purely for his and his family’s safety, confiding in KorTac for such a thing. And having to go back to hopefully kill the drug lord he made a bet with? It terrified him to his very core. You’re quick to notice the shift in your boyfriend’s demeanor, and you walk up to him. Gently grabbing his hand, you lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s okay to be scared, alright..? But you and I are going to do this together and I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” You reassure him. Hong-Jin sighs deeply, squeezing your hand gently. “I know but…this guy is completely crazy and serious—he wants me dead. I-I can’t help but feel scared, and I’m glad you can understand that. I just…thought I would be strong when this day eventually came,” he says in that same hushed tone. “And that’s perfectly fine. The two of us are going to get him and take him down once and for all,” you reassure him delicately. “And what happens if we don’t?” Hong-Jin asks. The bluntness of his tone catches you off guard, and your shocked expression just screams this. You can feel his eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, staring at you sharply.

“Then let’s just not think about that and focus on the mission. This is the closest we’ve been to finding him—we have to do this…for you, and everyone else that man’s taken advantage of,” your words bleed confidence as you speak. Hong-Jin nods, removing his sunglasses briefly to look into your eyes. You can see the fear he has, but also the slight relief of knowing that you’ll be with him is more than enough to ease his mind. “Okay…okay. Let’s go then—we have a bastard to kill,” Hong-Jin firmly commands. The two of you then head off into an armored truck in the dead of the night. There were about to be several casualties tonight; whether they be civilians or not, blood was going to rush down the streets like a river.

You follow the vehicle you had tagged at a distance, your fingers gripping onto the steering wheel of the car tightly. You were determined to make sure Hong-Jin faced his demons and get out of there alive, no matter what. But it was no use; there were more demons out in the world than there were the two of you. And they were already well aware of your pursuit of the drug lord. Two unmarked black cars then pulled out of an alleyway and followed right behind you. “Fuck…Horangi, get ready to hold on tight and open fire. I’m about to get us the fuck away.” You say with confidence, calling your boyfriend by his callsign now that you were out in the field and didn’t want your identities compromised.

The car you were pursuing then suddenly speeds up, causing you to do the same to keep up the chase. Without hesitation, Hong-Jin peeks out and begins to fire his M4 with incendiary rounds right into the cars behind the two of you. Shots are fired back, and the two of you make sure to keep your heads as low as possible to ensure your safety. Hong-Jin then shoots the armed man in the passenger’s seat before firing at the engine. The incendiary round ignites within, blowing up the car. The tires screech a lot as it goes out of control, hitting the back of the car slightly and forcing you to stabilize it before you continue your pursuit. “Seriously?! It manages to hit us and not the other fucking van?!” you exclaim through clenched teeth.

“Just drive! We can’t afford to lose the target!” Hong-Jin yells over his own gunfire. He pops back in and out constantly, switching mags like a madman. You’re sure to cover fire as best you could, going so far as to shoot through the windshield enough that it just shatters. Hong-Jin manages to successfully shoot the tires of the other car behind you, causing it to swerve from side to side before crashing into a building. You see innocent people getting hurt all around you and it distracts you. Innocent people aren’t the ones who should suffer this; that’s why this drug lord must die. Suddenly, as you’re lost in your thoughts, a bullet suddenly lodges right into your shoulder and causes you to lose your handling of the steering wheel.

“FUCK—HOLD ON!” you exclaim through gritted teeth as you try your best to get control of the wheel. Hong-Jin quickly comes in and helps you get control of the wheel, checking your wound. “Shit—it went through you completely! Are you sure you should still be driving?!” he exclaims, ducking when more bullets come towards you. “I’m not losing him! This is our only chance!” you exclaim. One of the front tires of the car you’re in is shot out as well right after you turn, causing the car to flip over. “Get out and get cover behind the car!” Hong-Jin exclaims. He quickly helps you out of the car, getting the both of you to cover behind it. “Are you crazy?! The tank’s leaking gas! We have to find cover somewhere else!” you exclaim.

“Dammit!” Hong-Jin yells, grabbing you and helping you to cover. The car then explodes after a molotov aimed towards you two as you ran away ignites the leaking gas, sending metal flying everywhere. It grazes Hong-Jin’s bicep, slicing it right open. He growls out in pain, almost like the tiger he claims himself to be before turning and opening fire. The enemy then pushes back, allowing for the two of you to push forward and continue to pursue your target. You fire a few shots from your pistol, managing to shoot the target in the ankle and in the left lung as well as killing two of his guards. He falls to the floor, trying to crawl away. Neither of you even notice it on time, but he has an Uzi on him as you approach.

Once the two of you are close enough, he turns over and opens fire. Everything that transpires seemingly happens in slow motion, as you turn to use your body to shield Hong-Jin from harm. You can feel every single bullet pierce your body, all except for one, which grazes Hong-Jin’s neck right where his jugular is. Time seemingly resumes normally and the two of you fall to the ground, with you on top of him. Blood is swiftly filling your lungs and it becomes harder to breathe as you begin to choke. “Not…many have lived after they attempted to kill me…but nobody is going to live once they have…” the target says as he lays there now on the floor.

You look up at Hong-Jin, who’s also struggling to breathe. “H…Hey…I’m so sorry…I love you…” You wheeze. “Don’t…you dare apologize…” Hong-Jin says. He then brings his hands up to gently wrap around you, holding you weakly against him. “I love you…I have loved you…And I will always love you…” Hong-Jin whispers. He then lifts you up, as if in denial that you’re past the point of saving. “Let’s go home…” he says softly. Putting one foot in front of the other, he carries your lifeless body closely to his chest. Fatigue then takes over from the excessive blood loss and he sits with you in an alleyway, leaned up against a wall. “I love you…” he breathes weakly. There, in that lonely little alleyway, the two of you expire; your attempt to protect him failed

The tragic lovers are no more.

[gardensnakie]

You always seem to have really interesting thoughts and perspectives when asked about various theories, stories, and concepts (I started reading The Summer Hikaru Died thanks to you /pos) so I’m curious: What do you think of hanahaki?

(Oh yay, it's a good story ^^)

For the hanahaki trope, I've never gotten an interest in it but I've heard the idea every know and then. I haven't read anything about it, but I got the basics of how it works so my opinion is based off surface level ideas and my elaboration

The disease that can only be cured if someone's love for somebody else is reciprocated is scary. I'm sure in some cases it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic love that would cure someone, but I'll focus on it because that's the main idea for most stories with hanahaki.

If someone close to me had hanahaki disease and it was getting worse because I didn't reciprocate that love, I would try my best to reciprocate it the best I can in that situation because I don't want this person to die.

I think there can be many possibilities and scenarios. My thoughts are running around trying to narrow down at least one outcome.

There can be aggression, a person demanding openness from the infected other so they know how to love them in a way they want so they won't die. The person can care endlessly and be determined to save the infected other, but still couldn't imagine kissing or marrying them among other things. I'm not sure how to explain it, since I'm not interested in romantic relationships and I honestly lean more into the idea of queer platonic relationships.

I dont think I could ever develop hanahaki disease if I lived in a universe where that happened. It's a trope that would give plot holes unless authors elaborated on it because I don't believe in the idea that there is only one person in life for someone else- soul mates basically. But I never experienced romantic love for someone so I wouldn't know how that feels.

If there was a character like that, with a lack of romantic interest in people but desperate for connection, I think they would do anything to save the person who is dying from their love for them. Even if that love is so different.

Yes, that character would cuddle with them, hold their hand, give them gifts, care, spend time with them, and they would have to believe it would be enough because they are so happy having someone else who loves them too- but again, that love is different, leaving the infected other to long for something they can't have

"Do you feel unloved?"

"What can I do?"

"I really do love you, why... " why aren't you getting better?

Is there any room for compromise? If moving on isn't a choice and the infected other dies, what would all that effort mean? A refusal to kiss should be better than an ingenuine one. Was this love not enough, was that love too much?

What makes it so different? Was it physical, was it emotional, what did it lack? All love is different and people see it in different ways and it is so vast, so even if one tries their absolute best there is always a risk of it failing and leaving to grave consequences. Does openness amount to the value of love? Would sharing our feelings cure it all, how vulnerable can somebody be and still fail to convince another they truly love them?

Its like- a spiritual force to cure the disease I think. What does the disease rely on, is it the victim's beliefs on what love is and what love they receive, does the disease find it different or is it the person first? Can it be reversed if the person just 'moves on'? It's never that easy.

I also think it's easy to grow cold toward a person with hanahaki disease and is in love with you. Like a 'you can hate me instead of love me' kind of idea. Forcing somebody out of love so they can be cured is a more cruel solution. Being set on being apathetic should at least make some difference. But it brings question of codependent victims of the disease. There's a lot! There's a lot of possibilities and I think it could be very interesting, and I'm sure there might be stories like this but I've never tried seeking them out.

[krikeymate]

you're the flame that keeps my soul alight

fire fic. it comes with art!!

- - -

Heat.

An acrid taste sticking to her tongue, her teeth, her lips.

Her throat is an arid wasteland.

Breathing becomes choking.

Eyes burn through closed lids.

The floor is hard and bruising beneath her bones.

She wants to move, tries to move, but there’s a stickiness coating her body, her hands, her face. It leaves her stuck to the floor. Her skin tingles, alight with a warning she can’t quite grasp. Her head is so heavy and there’s a voice in her head telling her it’s ok little one, you can rest now, you can sleep, I’ll watch over you.

But there’s something… wrong with it.

The voice in her head usually sounds a lot less like her mother and more like…

Sam.

Where’s Sam?

Find Sam. She’ll help.

Tara struggles to open her eyes; drowsiness had set its hooks in deep. But eventually, she does, and regrets it immediately.

Around her a fire rages, the room ablaze and coated with a fog of heavy smoke.

Well shit.

Not for the first time, Tara feels the urge to just lay down and die. Why not? I’m already more than halfway there, it would be so easy, she thinks, head rolling to the side.

Ah, that’s why.

Her vision narrows in on the shape of her sister through the smoky haze, slumped unconscious against a wall with her arms pulled upwards and tied at the wrists. Whatever would you do without me? Tara muses, rolling onto her stomach.

The effort of climbing to her hands and knees feels unattainable to achieve, but regardless, she persists, spurred on by the sight of her sister. If she doesn’t help her, who will? And Sam deserves a better death than this. Preferably one very far into the future, surrounded by people who love her as much as Tara does. A part of her hopes she isn’t around to see it, she doesn’t even want to think of a world without Sam Carpenter in it, let alone live it again.

The slow crawl forward feels eternal.

Breathing feels impossible, but she doesn’t have a choice. She has to breathe, to keep moving, to help her sister. She can’t focus on the thumping in her head or the tackiness of her hands as they cling to the floor with each step. Just think about Sam, focus on Sam.

3 meters feels like a marathon in the desert.

Despite the circumstances, Tara finds herself relaxing at the feeling of Sam under her hands; a reflex as inconvenient as it is a lifeline. She pushes herself upwards with what must be a bruising grip on Sam’s shoulders and reaches for the bound wrists.

Fuck.

The knot is unyielding between her clumsy fingers.

She doesn’t have time for this. The room is on fucking fire. They are choking to death.

FUCK.

Ok. Stay calm. Stay calm. Cut the rope. Find something to cut the rope.

She can barely see, barely think.

Propelled on by only the thought of her sister, Tara manages to survey the room for salvation.

The world must not be done with them yet, because she finds it.

A jagged piece of something, hot and sharp and perfect. She won’t risk Sam’s wrists, if the fresh blood flowing down her palm says anything about its suitability to the job. She saws at the rope tethering Sam to the ceiling pipe instead, cutting into her own skin all the while. It takes too long; her body slow with lethargy. She can’t stop coughing now; the blade slips through her fingers and clatters to the floor.

Sam’s arms fall and Tara barely manages to catch them. She lowers them gently and reaches for Sam’s shoulders to pull her away from the wall. Her sister’s stature is usually a comforting presence looming over her like a protective shadow, but right now it was nothing but a nuisance and a hindrance as Tara tries to drag her across the room. She doesn’t get very far, Sam slipping from her hands as she falls to her knees, unable to find the strength to carry on.

“Sam.”

Tara throws a lazy slap to her sister’s cheek with one hand, leaving a bloody handprint behind, and does her best to shake her with her other. “Wake the fuck up.”

No dice.

The flames feel closer. She can barely keep her eyes open.

It feels hopeless.

“Sam,” she cries. Her fingers lose their grip.

“Please.”She won’t wake up. Her knees buckle below her.

“I need you.” She’s so tired.

The last thing she recalls before the darkness takes her once again is the feeling of Sam beneath her.

- - -

Sam wakes up gasping.

A thump to her stomach had pushed the air from her lungs, it seems, if the weight across her abdomen and the sting in her chest were anything to go by.

There’s an old familiar fogginess in her head and a dryness to her throat, one she hasn’t missed. It’s been, what, 7 years, 8? Since before she ran away, anyway. The mixture of booze and pills certainly feel good at the time, but the comedown is always its own special brand of hell.

Sam wishes she could remember why she had relapsed. She’d been doing so well.

What was the last thing she remembered?

Tara.

She was smiling at her. They were… dinner? They’d ordered takeout, right? Celebrating?

Shit.

Why was this so hard. How can she think with the temperature this high? It’s always higher than Sam would like; Tara feels the cold so easily, but this is ridiculous. She knows her sister doesn’t want to waste their money on new clothes, but she’s going to have to draw a line. She’s going to buy her some new warmer threads whether Tara likes it or not.

It’s only when she tries to move that she remembers the weight pinning her.

It takes a surprising amount of effort to lift her head, and she just about recognises the figure of her sister sprawled out on top of her through her blurry eyes.

Oh. That’s right.

They had been celebrating Tara’s 3-months-of-therapy-versary. Her sister had rolled her eyes and told her she was being ridiculous, but the blush on her cheeks and the shy way Tara had avoided eye contact and fiddled with her hands told Sam she was doing the right thing by making a big deal out of it. She wanted Tara to know how proud she was of her, to know her efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed, to begin to make up for all of the achievements she knew had been unobserved and disregarded after she left.

How the hell did they end up like this?

A heavy cough escapes her lungs and Sam finds herself curling to the side from the harshness of it. Tara slips from her lap and that’s when Sam begins to realise that something is very wrong here. And not just because her hands are tied, although, that is a very concerning discovery.

Blood? There’s blood. On Tara’s hands, on her face, down her neck.

Sam scrambles to get up off the floor in her rush to put a hand on Tara’s chest.

Heart beating? Check.

Breathing? Check.

Thank fuck. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Later, she’ll wonder how it took her so long to notice the fire raging all around them.

Needless to say, the revelation is quite a shock.

The deafening popping from burning wood triggers Sam into action. She begins to pull at the rope around her wrists with her teeth. When that fails to budge the knot or fray the rope, she frantically scans the room instead. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just a whole lot of fire.

Fire.

She stares at the flames for a moment before glancing down at her wrists. Ah, fuck. She makes her decision. It’s not even a choice really, it’s the only option available if she wants to get out of here alive. Or, more importantly, if she wants to get Tara out of here alive.

Sam clambers to her feet and sidesteps her sister, heading towards the nearest flames – an on-fire couch. The heat is extraordinary, she feels like she’s burning alive just in its presence. Taking a deep breath – a mistake, she realises, as her lungs protest – and shoves her hands out towards the fire.

She bites her tongue as her jaw clenches from the pain, blood filling her mouth. With a scream, she rips her hands apart, the burning rope withering away as it drops to the floor. Fuck, let’s never do that again. Sam quickly spins on her heel, turning back to her sister and crouching down. She takes a moment to breathe through the pain, head bowed, before pulling the smaller girl into her arms.

With one hand under Tara’s legs, and the other cradling her back, Sam heaves herself upwards. Her hands throb where they hold her, skin red and wet and already swelling. She grips Tara tight regardless and pulls her in close. The way to the door is mostly clear, but she finds herself stumbling clumsily around alight furniture on the way. A misstep has her tripping, leading her too close to the flames. She barely has time to react, turning away to protect her sister. The move leaves her back burning in a way that can only be described as agonising. She doesn’t even try to hold back her tears.

Sam almost kicks the front door down before she remembers how much that could be a terrible idea. Bracing Tara against her, she reaches for the doorknob with the back of her hand and prays.

It’s hot.

But it’s not ‘there’s a fire on the other side of this door’ hot.

Probably.

Hopefully.

She wonders if she has time and somewhere safe to put Tara down before she opens the door, but the ceiling is beginning to collapse far too close to where they’re standing, and Sam knows she’s out of time.

Trust in your instincts. Her intrusive thoughts are beginning to sound a lot like Tara these days, and irritatingly affirmative. She wouldn’t have it any other way, her sister outshines her father in every way, even in her head.

Sam kicks the door open and steps out into the blissfully fire-free complex hallway.

She almost collapses in relief.

Free from the roaring of the fire, she can now hear the sound of sirens and raised voices from outside the building. She begins to carefully make her way down the steps, leaning heavily on the wall as she descends. Her breath catches in her throat at every movement.

She’s halfway down when she meets several firefighters on their way up. One tries to take Tara from her, and Sam lurches backwards, determined to stop them. The movement has her falling, back hitting the wall and sliding down. She finds her legs no longer want to cooperate, and her tongue feels too heavy to speak. She thinks she manages a “no.” They’re talking to her, maybe, but she can’t make out what they’re saying. It’s hard to hear anything over the white noise blaring in her ears, the pain in her back is excruciating.

Sam’s so tired it makes her feel delirious, she can feel laughter bubbling up inside of her. All she can think about is how Tara won’t be able to complain when Sam buys her new clothes now.

The last thing she feels before the darkness takes her is Tara’s hand slipping out of hers as the weight disappears.

- - -

Sam wakes up to the smell of antiseptic and soap. The hospital. She hates how familiar she’s becoming with this environment.

There’s a brief moment of panic where she remembers Tara being pulled from her arms, before she recognises the small hand cupping hers, and the familiar weight of a head against her legs.

The position can’t be comfortable, Sam notes. Tara’s leaning on her right arm, facing Sam, hunched in a way that gives Sam back pain just looking at her. Her right hand is bandaged – as is her head – and her left clings to Sam’s. An orange inhaler rests on the bed, nestled safely between their bodies.

Sam’s helpless to do anything but smile as Tara mumbles in her sleep, head nuzzling against her leg. She concentrates on that, on her sister being here with her, instead of the pulse from her wounds and the way the bandages itch against her sore and burning skin. She doesn’t think of their apartment, now destroyed, or of their lost possessions. Tara is here, and that’s the only thing that matters. She’ll lose anything else, everything else, so long as she still has her sister.

[ihateoc]

Break-In

(word count: 1,894) (shadow is attacked by an old colleague)

Shadow, known for being a light sleeper, awakens abruptly one morning, alerted by the faintest noise emanating from the other room. Something is off. A sense of foreboding washes over him as he narrows his eyes, only to find a knife aimed directly at his throat, halted just inches away. 

"Nothing personal, Shadow," An oddly familiar voice spits out. 

"Ember," Shadow acknowledges them by name, his face impassive, "You say it's not personal but ya came all this way just to stick a knife in me," His eyes meet Ember's with an uncanny calmness, even while at the brink of having his throat slit open. 

"Tenchi wants you to come back. And he ordered me to kill you if you refuse," Ember explicates bluntly, their tone emotionless. 

Of course, Tenchi would've sent someone after him now that he's out of their control. He wasn't surprised. No, he was slightly annoyed. Even more so that he sent Ember, a true professional. And they were smart enough to cut the lights so he couldn't take control of them through their shadow. 

Shadow smirks, running his tongue over his lower lip. His voice echoes the mockery and disdain he harbors for Tenchi, "So, it's either go back to being someone's pet killer or die? Not much of a choice there." 

"He thought you might say that," They hiss as the knife plunges towards his neck. 

In a swift movement, Shadow manages to roll out of the way just in time. He hears the knife bury itself into the mattress where he was earlier, "Have you ever considered getting another job? You're too beautiful for this shit," He says, trying to buy himself some time as he scans his surroundings for something that could be utilized as a weapon. 

"You're so damn insufferable but I guess domestic life hasn't changed you. How annoying," Ember retorts as they pull their knife free from the mattress, moving to swing at him again. 

"Yeah, domestic life is annoying!" The dark-haired man counters. He doesn't miss a beat as he kicks out their leg, attempting to catch his assailant off guard and buy himself some more time. His eyes dart around the room once more, zeroing in on one of his discarded guitars. 

'Looks like I'm gonna have to risk damaging one of my precious babies. Sorry, darling, it's either you or me right now,' He complains to himself, his eyes darting back to Ember when they speak up. 

"How about this? Come with me or I'll kill your roommate," Ember taunts him apathetically, "I know you don't live alone." 

Shadow's eyes darken at the mention of Bennett, "Lay one fucking finger on him and I'll make sure you regret it," He grits out, picking up his guitar and wielding it like a makeshift weapon. 

"Shit-" Ember dodges his attack, bringing their knife down on the guitar and denting it, "Why are you wasting your time here? Tenchi took care of you." 

Shadow grimaces at the damage inflicted on his instrument but doesn't lose focus. He gives a cynical laugh, eyeing Ember with murderous intent, "Taking care of me? Is that what you call it? I was his goddamn puppet." 

"I knew the pay for this job wouldn't be worth it," They mutter to themself, dodging Shadow's oncoming assault, "You and I both know this lifestyle isn't for you. Just save us both some time and come with me." 

"Sorry to disappoint you, Em," Shadow retorts with a sardonic grin, attempting to disarm Ember by hitting their wrist with the neck of his guitar. 

They absorb the attack, groaning in discomfort but holding their knife steadily, "Ugh, this is just like that time with Rubi. If Tenchi hadn't put a stop to that, who knows where you'd be?" 

"Rubi..." The dark-haired man's voice dies in his throat as a rush of memories comes flooding back. The taste of her lips and the sound of her laughter had all been replaced with a bitter sense of abandonment when she supposedly left him high and dry. He tears his gaze away from Ember to stare out the window, "You're saying Tenchi lied about Rubi?" 

How many more lies had he based his life on? What else did they take away from him? 

"Tenchi wanted to keep his favorite weapon all to himself," Ember snarls, "He had me steal your wallet and threatened Rubi's dad, telling him that he'd tell all of his friends that his daughter was fucking a murderer. So, he did. She went to a psych ward because of you, Shadow." 

Shadow's grip on the guitar tightens until his knuckles turn white. A whirlwind of rage and betrayal consumes him, extinguishing any remnants of mercy he might have held for Tenchi.  

"Enzo sent Rubi away?" He grits out through clenched teeth, "Because of me?" 

"Yeah, I was there when Tenchi called him," Ember explains, narrowing their eyes accusatorily, "You're a monster. There's no way you don't see that. Come with me already." 

Shadow growls, a dangerous glint in his maroon eyes, "No, I'll never go back to that life, and I sure as fuck don't plan on being your captive either." 

She went to a psych ward because of him? Everything he thought he knew what nothing more than lies... All this time. But he won't let his past define him. He's not the monster they made him out to be. 

"Don't you even feel sorry for what you did? That poor girl was sent away because of you. They probably treated her like she was insane because you couldn't just do your damn job, you fuckup. And all of us suffered from it." 

"Of course, I feel sorry!" Shadow snaps back, nearly shaking with anger and guilt, "You think I wanted any of this?! You think I don't regret everything I did in my past every damn day?!" 

"And now you're off your game, idiot," Ember kicks the guitar out of his hand and hurls the knife at him, "Emotions were never part of the job." 

Dodging the knife with a hasty roll, Shadow retorts, "Yeah, well... People change." 

He charges at Ember straight on. He had no idea how this confrontation would end but he was ready to fight until his last breath. Ember counters by delivering a knee to Shadow's stomach, causing him to gasp for air as the wind is knocked out of him. They swiftly remove their back-up dagger from their boot, thrusting towards him. Before their attack can land, a kick in the back sends them sprawling to the ground as Ren looms over them. 

"I didn't realize you had guests," Ren bites out sarcastically as she moves to stand in front of Shadow defensively. 

"Always got perfect timing, princess," Shadow manages to wheeze out between coughs, pushing himself onto his feet while giving her a sharp, appreciative nod, "Thanks for saving my ass... Again." 

"Bennett came to get me, saying he saw that the door was open when he got home from breakfast," She explicates casually while unholstering her dual daggers, "Who's your friend?" 

"Ah, just an old colleague... Ember," Shadow snarls out their name like a curse, "Seems like they came to 'invite' me back." 

Great, now Ren is involved in his mess too. Why can't he ever keep her out of his problems?  

Ren glowers at Ember with sharp, grey eyes, her tone dripping with venom, "Ember, I don't know how you found Shadow but I recommend leaving since there's no chance of you beating us both." 

"Ugh, you're that girl, aren't you?" They grumble with annoyance evident in their voice, "The one that Shadow could never beat," Pausing for a beat, a sneer forms on their lips, "So what? Shadow just moved to a new owner like some kind of stray dog?" 

"I ain't no one's dog," Shadow growls defensively, his blood beginning to boil as he shoots Ember a disgusted glare, "And Ren here, she saved my life more times than I can count." 

"That's right. Shadow isn't anybody's tool anymore," Ren says sternly, before musing with a confident smirk, "I wonder what Tenchi will say about you being locked away." 

"Wha-" Before Ember can even respond, the door bursts open as a pair of police officers rush into the room. 

Ren's stalling was successful. She watches the officers drag Ember away in handcuffs while Bennett works on fixing the lights. Shadow sits on the bed, his fists clenched, thoughts racing as he considers everything Ember had told him. 

Ren hovers over him, peering down at him with a look of concern, "Shadow, what's wrong? What did they say?" 

"A lot of things, Ren. Things I thought were true weren't," Shadow drawls out slowly, still processing the information while clenching his fists tighter, "They said Rubi didn't betray me... That she was sent to a psych ward..." His voice trails off as he looks down at the ground with an expression of pure hatred. 

"Who is Rubi?" Ren wonders thoughtfully, the bed dipping down beside him when she sits down. 

"Rubi was... Is someone I cared for, once," Shadow starts, his voice a low rumble, "She treated me like nobody else ever did," His gaze hardens and he grits his teeth in anger, "But Tenchi lied about her leaving with another man when in reality it looks like she was sent to a psych ward by Enzo, her dad. Because she was seen with a killer like me." 

A sigh escapes from Ren's lips upon hearing that man's name, "Tenchi's a huge dick. I'm sorry. That sounds rough." 

"Well, your sympathy is surprising," The former mercenary retorts with a dry laugh, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he looks at Ren, "Thanks, beautiful. It's rough but I'll deal. Always do." 

"What was Rubi like?" 

"She was... Different. Kind-hearted. Rich girl, you know? But she had this thing about her, not looking down on others like her kind usually do," Shadow explains softly, "Every moment I spent with her felt real and honest for the first time in my life, even though I lied to her about who I was at first." 

Ren nods in acknowledgement as she suggests, "Maybe we could do some research and see if we could meet up with her someday." 

A look of surprise flashes across his face, followed by a hint of uncertainty as he asks with an incredulous smirk, "You... You'd do that for me?" When she nods, he looks away, trying to brush off his vulnerability while avoiding Ren's eyes, "We'll see if she even remembers a miserable guy like me." 

"I'm sure she remembers. You're unforgettable, aren't you?" She remarks, a playful grin on her lips as she attempts to lighten the mood. 

"Unforgettable, huh?" Shadow's smirk broadens into a grin, "That's one way to put it," Gaining back some of his usual sarcastic charm, he adds, "Thanks for the cheer-up attempt though, sweetheart. It was... Nice." 

"We'll look into it, okay?" She reassures him, patting his knee before standing up and leaving the room. 

When Ren pats his knee, an unexpected warmth spreads through him. His eyes linger on his old copy of Pride and Prejudice that sits on the table and for a moment, he's lost in his memories. 

"Yeah..." He murmurs quietly once she's out of earshot, "We'll see." 

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

"See, it is a boasting point: I lasted like at least ten generations of bloatflies."

Oh, she didn't actually know the exact lifecycle length of a bloatfly, did she? That made her response to his throwaway insult even funnier.

"Yeah, ten months is real impressive, swee'heart."

The Ghoul drawled back, voice thick with sarcastic amusement. From context, he could infer what the raider had probably been trying to convey - and sure, ten years in the raiding lifestyle was actually quite a feat. Most folks died, or came to their senses and switched career paths, well before then. The ones that stuck around this long and had lackeys, well. They'd usually stirred up enough chatter for him to have heard about them by now.

Maybe this one would have a name he'd recognise more than her face.

"We had a sniper. He got greedy and got his head blown off. Bloaty style."

He was actually a little surprised that she'd admit that to him. Granted, it didn't guarantee she had nobody out there covering her and her two lackeys - but after her little speech about how she was such a generous boss who invested in paying skilled people what they were worth, it was rather ironic that she'd just had to put one down for getting greedy. Clearly there had been a disagreement over how much the sniper's skills had been worth.

"Shame," he commented, with the mordant humour of someone who'd just seen all the cards in his opponent's hand and knew he could take the winning pot.

No sniper, no problem.

Another clear reaction at his pointed choice of words. Instead of bristling at his blatent button pressing, however, the raider averted her gaze. Oh, that was interesting.

"I'm in a "I wanna fuck with the Enclave today" kinda mood."

She was really keeping her manners on, wasn't she? That was sensible, even if it wasn't very sporting. The Ghoul magnanimously decided to let the subject go. After all, he had more important matters to focus on than needling this stranger for the sake of seeing her squirm. And by the look that just crossed her face, she was already off her game enough that she'd forgotten introduce herself.

"Right. I'm Coop."

The Ghoul's expression went abruptly, unsettlingly blank.

He barely registered the names of the two men as she finished off her side of introductions; a haze of static was setting in, bouncing the old nickname around in his mind, turning it over. Trying to discern whether this was some sort of sick joke. Trying to discern whether or not she knew.

There was no way she could know. She hadn't delivered it like a punchline; she hadn't paused to take in his reaction, or given any indication that she'd expected there to be one. It was just a stupid coincidence.

Then, one of the newly introduced raiders (Pat?) raised his hand and actually waved hello at him. That was nonplussing enough to pull The Ghoul back out of his head, and watch as Coop and her other buddy collectively cringed at the social faux pas.

"... he's our Brahmin, ignore him."

Ah, so he'd been right. That one was the weakest link. The one who carried the bags because he didn't shoot as good or think as fast.

If this went to shit, Pat was going to make a good meat shield.

"As for my friend, if I went around giving the names of people I work with and for, wouldn't be good publicity, would it?"

The Ghoul's eyes narrowed knowingly. So this friend was the real big fish - and probably the source of all these promised caps, given this raider was so reluctant to risk being cut out of the deal.

"Oh, I get the feelin' your friend's had plenty of publicity already," he remarked, low and shrewd. Certainly he'd put money on them being someone more familiar than these strangers.

"You, on the other hand... Maybe you oughtta hire a publicist, 'cause I've heard a marked lack o' chatter about you."

Maybe because she'd been a lackey herself for most of her career, and some big-name boss had been taking all the credit. Or maybe because she just hadn't really done shit outside of scavenge easy pickings and mug some small merchants, and that was why she'd survived so long in the first place.

"You'll hear more from me if you join us. If not, find the answers out there. You'll find me too, if you ever need caps."

For all her purported confidence in what she had to offer, this woman really did seem set on giving him an easy out. Was that big ol' minigun of hers out of bullets from her disagreement with her former sniper, or something?

The Ghoul's lips quirked.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he started, with offhanded cheer, as he stepped in close enough to clap a faux-friendly hand on Pat's shoulder.

"Y'all are some of the politest raiders to ever point a gun at me, an' I'll admit that tickles me a bit, so -"

With the deft speed of a viper, he made his move. His other hand firmly clamped down on Pat's elbow - using his newfound leverage point, The Ghoul sidestepped behind his quarry, and smoothly twisted the young raider's weapon arm up behind his back to divest him of his nice looking gun.

"- I'll take it under advisement," The Ghoul finished with that same affected equanimity, releasing Pat almost as quickly as he'd grabbed him with a patronising little pat to the head.

Nothing personal, bucko. Just how the game goes.

He retreated with his newly procured gun - how good it felt to be armed again at last - and kept it pointedly levelled at Coop, while he gauged the reaction to his little breach of niceties. Just in case she wasn't feeling so kindly any more now that he'd robbed one of her own, or so inclined to let him walk away.

"Consider this my advance, for dealin' with your Dom Pedro problem," he gave by way of simple explanation, and tipped his hat for good measure - a sardonic little thank you for what he knew he hadn't had permission to take.

And if you have any sense, you'll realise how lucky you are that this is all I'm charging you for the mistake of unleashing me for a recruitment pitch.

He'd have shot and looted the lot of them, but, well. They had technically done him a favour, and they hadn't tried to threaten or extort him yet.

If this Coop was serious about being willing to let him walk away, with the chance of future jobs still on the table and no grudges held, then he had a feeling it was probably more advantageous to not completely burn this particular bridge right now.

Either way, he was definitely about to find out who this weirdly polite old raider actually was - folks always showed their honest character when things started going wrong.

@savingthrcw

"Please. Look at me, cowboy, I'm an old raider."

Was she trying to strike up a rapport with a bit of banter? Adorable.

The Ghoul gave her a yellowed, knowing smile that didn't meet his eyes.

Oh, kiddo, you don't know what old is.

An "old" raider was a spit in the bucket compared to him; the lifestyle killed most of the trigger-happy, caps-hungry idiots who gave it a go within three years.

And given he'd never heard of this woman or her little crew, he doubted she'd been in the raiding business that long.

"Ah, now, swee'heart, that ain't much of a boasting point - 'cause most of y'all don't last longer than a bloatfly, " he quipped back lightly, the faux-friendly tone of his voice belying the very measured way he was circling closer. The two lackeys accompanying Miss Minigun looked nervous about his approach, but they seemed to be holding their nerve so far, which was a little disappointing.

He was itching for an excuse to shoot something, and that was a nice gun the twitchy lad on the left with the bags was holding.

Go on. Give me a reason. I know you want to.

Miss Minigun was continuing her pitch, either unaware or unworried by the way The Ghoul was sizing up her people; making a note of which one was the weakest link in the three-person chain, which one would make the best meat-shield and give him the advantage he needed to quickly dispatch the others, if it came down to it.

"I'm still here because I plan and I prepare. Then I overprepare. You'd be when the 'over' bit starts. Which is what lets me be so 'nice' about it."

The Ghoul turned in a slow, thoughtful circle on the spot, peering out across the wide open field of the dark graveyard, making a show of looking for the invisible backup sniper team that must be making her so confident in her preparation skills.

If she truly thought bringing just two men and a minigun was enough to ensure her safety, well, that was actually a little insulting. Not that he was going to have any complaints about a mistake if it worked in his favour, of course.

"Here's the deal. Apparently a scientist stole from the Enclave and ran with his dog."

That got his attention.

...Enclave scientist, huh? Running away with a dog?

Oh, that scientist was definitely scurrying off with some kind of highly classified military tech that folks would pay a whole mountain of caps for. He doubted the dog was the stolen property that the Enclave was so pissy about.

"The Enclave got its panties in a twist, and offered a thousand caps to bring him back. But we both know they ain't gonna give that to ya. 'Cause you are a ghoul, and people are stupid about that."

The Ghoul's lips twitched; a small ripple of acerbic amusement.

Oh, you'd be surprised.

Sure, most folks were stupid, discriminating assholes. But most folks were also pretty quick to reevaluate their priorities, when the right leverage was applied - and his practiced brand of persuasion was pretty effective at making even the most proud and stubborn fellow suddenly experience the pressing inclination to be more accommodating.

After all, he wasn't just any ghoul.

"They'll want someone in a shiny armor to do it."

Well, there was what someone wanted, and there was what they actually got. He had a feeling the Enclave wouldn't be splitting hairs over the appearance of whoever bagged their bounty, when it came down to the urgency of getting their property back intact - and keeping it out of the hands of whoever this defecting scientist was undoubtedly angling to sell it to.

"Who'll really pay a lot is a friend of mine, if I bring the scientist to them."

...Ah. So Miss Minigun knew a higher bidder, and wanted to capitalize.

It didn't really matter who got the prize, in the end. It was probably just some new kind of fancy military-grade weapon for the wasteland gangs to squabble over and kill each other with, as if that wasn't all they'd been doing for the past 200 years anyway.

"If you are with me, it's a job worth 500 caps for you alone. You are free to go and check if anyone is offering more. But... if it's true that you are as good as they say, I'll throw in an extra 200."

The Ghoul arched a hairless, pock-marked brow at her, and gave a low whistle through his teeth - a deliberately performative display of amused surprise at the upfront offer.

"Wow." He drawled out, taking his time with the word, so that it was nicely marinated in sarcasm on delivery.

"Y'all really trekked all the way out here to dig ol' me up and offer 700 caps for some help with a bag n' delivery? My, my, someone's feeling in a real kindly mood."

He enjoyed the way Miss Minigun's face had twitched when he used that particular word, so it was pure vindictive curiosity to see what happened when he poked that little button he'd discovered again. Being called kindly had clearly touched some sort of nerve - maybe because she knew he wasn't using it as a compliment, maybe for some other reason. Either way, it was a flicker of an honest reaction, a hint of her true nature beneath this show of playing nice she was serving him right now.

I bet you're not so civilised when folks don't follow your little script.

The payday for this one must be big; if she was so willing to offer such a lump sum with a bonus tacked on top up-front, without even haggling, this so-called friend of hers must've quoted a much higher price than the Enclave's set reward.

A soft-footed scientist and his dog would be easy to track down, given they'd leave two sets of tracks, and have double the need to stop at the few places that supplied safe drinking water to travellers. Outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb from the locals at settlements, so it wouldn't take many friendly memory-jogging conversations to piece together where the target was going. Somewhere he assumed he'd be out of the Enclave's long reach, presumably, which helped narrow down the options.

It sounded like a lucrative deal. Which meant there had to be some kind of nasty catch, of course.

When something sounded too good to be true, in his experience, it always was.

"Not because I'm kind-hearted, but because that's what I call an investment. Paying skilled people the right amount instead of fucking them up... usually means they'll come back to work with me later."

Yeah, there was the flash of that metaphorical leash in the little tip of her hand. So this was supposedly about more than just one job, and she considered this an investment. A way to try and hook herself a notorious ally that was now conveniently the enemy of one of her latest enemies, and keep his services on a retainer to get a leg up on her competition.

...Did this raider really think she could convince him to drop the independent autonomy of his unaffiliated freelance status, and join her motley crew, by talking all nice-like and waving a big enough bag of money?

Well. She wasn't the first to make the assumption that he could be bought, and annoyingly The Ghoul doubted that she'd be the last, either. Even though his method of declining such offers had become increasingly emphatic over the years, there was always someone who thought they could change his mind.

"So take this as an incentive not to shoot me in the back whether you wanna do it or not, I'm worth more caps alive, 'cause they can keep coming and you never know when you may need a job."

The only original spin on this particular approach was that Miss Minigun seemed to be clued into the importance of emphasising she could take no for an answer. Her explicitly expressed preference for his answer to not be delivered with a bullet indicated that, on some level, the raider knew the fine line she was walking here. That she was ballsy enough to approach and ask for his allegiance, but not entitled enough to expect and demand.

"Pitch over. I won't lie, the fact that Dom Pedro will shit his pants knowing you're out and about? Makes me feel aaaall warm and fuzzy. It's good reason to try you first."

The bare-basic show of respect was a pitifully low bar, really, but enough folks had tripped over it that The Ghoul was, admittedly, kind of entertained by the novelty. And for a moment, it even showed on his malformed face - before he felt that all-too-familiar tightness in his chest, that burning itch in his throat.

An innocuous dip of his head obscured his expression under the broad brim of his hat; he raised a fist to his mouth and managed to turn his stifled coughing fit into a rasping, sardonic chuckle.

"Y'know... I didn’t catch your name. Or the name of this well-paying friend o' yours, come to think of it."

@savingthrcw

[luminnara]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader ch 3

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: A/B/O, some light angst

Tags:  @kyrah-williams  @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo 

Amoretta woke to the sound of a familiar alarm blaring through the compound. It was loud enough to make her wince and curl up, seeking out the warmth of her alpha while he laid next to her. She knew what the sound meant; he was officially finished with his rut, and they were going to be separated again. 

The thought made her heart ache. She couldn’t take much more of this. All she wanted was to stay by his side, her instincts telling her that he was the perfect one to watch over and protect her even if she didn’t need a protector. Though all of her suppressants greatly toned down the way she yearned and cried for him, nothing could erase those feelings completely, and each time the guards came to take him away from her, it hurt a little bit more. 

“‘Mega,” he said, voice extra low and rumbly from sleeping. 

“Alpha,” she sighed, rubbing her nose against his neck. 

He returned the gesture, tucking his face down into her scent gland and inhaling deeply. Even though she didn’t smell as strongly as omegas he encountered while out in the field, he loved her scent more than anything he had ever found before. Plus, her own scent being weaker meant that it was easier to cover her with his, and before the guards could come in and order him to leave, he made sure to rub his own gland all over her hair.

Amoretta sighed happily as he scented her, enjoying the smell of motor oil and cloves. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t fade before she got to see him again, and she would be able to at least catch a slight hint of him in her hair whenever she moved. 

“My omega,” the soldier purred, nosing her cheek to try and get her to look at him. 

She smiled softly, placing a hand on his jaw. “Your omega.”

The sound of a metal door sliding open made her close her eyes. She didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want to go back to her cell and spend another three months bored. 

“Longing,” a Russian voice over the intercom suddenly said. 

Amoretta let out a dejected breath. They were taking him away again. 

Her alpha moved to get up, listening to the words he had heard countless times before. His body was moving of its own volition, his limbs untangling themselves from hers even though he wanted to stay right there with her forever. 

“Rusted.”

He growled softly, a hand lingering on his omega’s neck. 

“Furnace.”

“Don’t go,” she whimpered, staring up at him with big, sad eyes. 

His hand moved to cup her cheek, a calloused thumb brushing over her skin. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to do as she asked. 

“Daybreak.”

He knew he was supposed to listen to the trigger words. They always commanded him, keeping him in check so that he could never have too much free thought. This time, he knew they would be followed by orders to get up and go back to his quarters so that he could await further instruction. 

But he didn’t want to.

“Seventeen.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a strong urge to disobey. It wasn’t overpowering, by any means, but it was enough for him to hesitate instead of walking away immediately. 

“Benign.”

The omega on the cot looked distraught.  He didn’t like it. He wanted her to be looking at him, paying attention to him, keeping her focus on him. She shouldn’t be staring at the wall, averting her gaze from the naked alpha before her. 

“”Mega,” the soldier said, getting her attention again. 

“Nine.”

“Hm?” she looked at him, and she felt like she was getting caught up in those icy blue eyes. 

“Homecoming.”

For a moment, he just looked down at her. She was so lovely, so perfect. 

“Be good.” he said.

She sat up slightly, staring at him. He had never said that before, not like that, not in that way. He called her good omega, good girl, pretty omega...he told her to be obedient, he praised her whenever she listened to him...but he had never told her be good, not with that tone. It was almost like...a warning, or...a promise?

“One.”

His nostrils flared, chest heaving with a sigh as he turned away from her. 

“Wait!” she called, reaching for him. 

But he was already facing the door. 

“Freight car.”

The soldier bowed his head. “Ready to comply.”

Amoretta let out a pitiful wail, watching helplessly as her alpha was ordered to return to his cell. The worst part was how he did so, and he seemed so willing to leave her behind. She knew he was under HYDRA’s full control, she knew that they liked to go in and mess with his brain whenever he showed any independence, but it still felt like she was being broken up with every single time she had to watch him leave. 

“Omega,” the voice said as the door slid shut. “Return to your cell and prepare for cryo.”

Another door opened and she stood slowly, wiping away tears that she knew she shouldn’t have had. She felt stupid for caring so much. Her hopes for a better, normal life were always crushed whenever HYDRA separated them again, and watching him walk away like that without a glance back at her was taking its toll on her emotional health. 

Without much other choice, she trudged down the narrow corridor, dragging her feet despite the threat of the cattle prods behind her. While the soldier was obedient enough to be allowed to walk on his own, they never trusted Amoretta, still all too aware of how much she liked to lash out at her handlers. 

They shoved her into her holding cell, where she spent about an hour waiting around before they returned to drag her off to the lab. Sometimes, when the soldier wasn’t going to be needed for a while, HYDRA put him in cryo. Amoretta once heard a doctor saying that it was to preserve his longevity, but she was pretty sure it was just that they didn’t want to deal with him all the time. When that happened, they put her into cryogenesis, too, letting her sleep until her alpha was thawed out. 

She supposed she should be grateful for the long naps, sometimes spending months or even years at a time not having to think about the way that HYDRA kept her as a prisoner, but she hated it. She didn’t like being away from her alpha, and whenever they brought her back out of cryo, she had a tendency to get sick. 

It wasn’t pleasant. 

This time, as the doctors strapped her down, she snarled at them. She was tired of this, tired of her life with HYDRA. She was reaching her breaking point, finally. 

“Quiet,” a beta doctor snapped, picking up a syringe. 

Amoretta rolled her eyes. “Or what?”

He glared at her. “You don’t want to find out.”

“You won’t get rid of me. You need me.” she growled. 

“We don’t need you.” the man scoffed. “We can easily find another omega that can take the serum. You aren’t special, Subject 1096.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you?” she dared to ask. “Why give me a number and keep me around for so long if I’m not important?”

“You omegas are always so sappy.” he said, a disgusted tone to his voice. “You’re convinced the Winter Soldier is your mate, aren’t you?”

“He seems to think so.” she said defensively. 

“Does he?” the doctor pressed the needle to her arm. “Or is he just happy to have something around to fuck?”

Amoretta wanted to bite his hand off for being so rude. She wanted to scream and snap and thrash, proving that they had made a mistake when they decided to give her of all omegas the serum. She was stronger than they knew. She could tear this doctor apart if she got ahold of his hand as he stood just out of her reach. Amoretta wanted HYDRA to regret the day they chose to make her so powerful. 

But the tranquilizer was already being injected into her veins, and she could feel herself floating away. Her vision swam, her skin suddenly feeling cold as she was lowered into her cryo pod for a nice, long, icy nap. 

She wished her soldier was there with her, but he wasn’t. Instead, she was all alone, left to sleep and hope for sweet dreams filled with his cold blue eyes and the low rumble of his voice.

--

“Widow, you copy?”

“Loud and clear, Cap.” a feminine voice said through the earpiece. 

Steve Rogers nodded to himself as he crept through the dark hallways. Checking out abandoned HYDRA bases wasn’t his favorite pastime, but it was an important one, and he’d be damned if he let Nat and Clint go without him for a mission like this. Besides, he owed it to Bucky to make sure everything was taken care of; he knew how much it frustrated his friend that he wasn’t allowed near HYDRA facilities yet. 

But they just couldn’t risk anything happening, not when he had finally managed to free himself of HYDRA’s influence on his mind. 

Thanks, Wakanda.

“What’s your position, Cap?” Natasha asked. 

“Northeast hall,” Steve answered as he rounded a corner. “Looks like medical facilities. There’s no sign of--”

As soon as he had opened his mouth, a row of low emergency lights flickered to life on the floor, illuminating his path and bathing the hallway in a red glow. 

“There’s still power. Stay alert.” he warned. 

“Copy that.”

Shield in hand, Steve made his way to a set of doors, nudging them open as quietly as he could. 

He really wasn’t expecting what he saw. 

He had definitely stepped into some sort of medical bay, gurneys and instruments left abandoned whenever HYDRA had up and left this place. If it weren’t for the staleness of the air and complete absence of life, it would have looked like the doctors had been there only moments before. 

As Steve made his way around crude operating tables, sheet plastic crinkling under his boots, he spotted a soft blue glow coming from a small doorway in the corner of the room. He adjusted his grip, keeping his shield raised just in case, but as he neared the lightsource, he lowered it again. 

“Nat, you’re gonna wanna come see this.”

It only took a few minutes for Black Widow to reach her teammate, and when she did, she let out a low whistle. 

“That’s a cryo pod.” she said, leaning towards the metal device. “And it sure looks like it’s being used.”

“Is whoever’s in it alive?” Steve asked. 

“Only one way to find out. Care to do the honors?” Natasha nodded towards the metal handle on the front of the pod. 

“Is this safe?” Steve put down his shield.

“This place has been abandoned since the late 80s. Seems like the end of the Cold War scared HYDRA away from a lot of their bases.” Natasha said, peering through the small, frosted glass window into the pod. “But there’s definitely someone in there.”

“Well, we can’t exactly lug this whole thing out to the plane,” Steve sighed, grabbing the heavy metal handle. 

As he wrenched it to the side, he could hear a pneumatic hiss, air rushing out of the lock. With a heavy clang, the pod opened, and Steve was able to pull the door to the side. 

Doing so revealed a young woman, her scent too muted by the chill of cryo sleep to tell what her secondary gender was. She was nude, the sight of her causing Steve to avert his gaze in embarrassment. Natasha either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and as she pulled a glove off and pressed her hand to a cold forehead, there seemed to be movement behind the woman’s eyelids. 

“Wow. She’s frozen.” Widow commented, moving her hand down to press two fingers against her neck. “...I’ve got a pulse here, though. We’d better get her out to the transport.”

Steve nodded, taking Natasha’s place as she stepped back to call in their find. Still doing his best to be a gentleman and avoid looking at the girl, he quickly unbuckled the brittle leather straps holding the girl in place, freeing her arms and legs before pulling her out of the pod. Her skin was icy against him, but Nat was right--he could feel her heart beating slowly, her pulse speeding up towards something more normal and less like hibernation. 

“Here. Found this in a cupboard.” Natasha appeared with a musty blanket in her arms, draping it around the woman’s shoulders. 

Steve wrapped it around her before picking her up, finally daring to look down at her now that she was covered. Her hair was long and dark, and though her cheeks were a bit gaunt, no doubt thanks to HYDRA’s general disregard for human life, she didn’t seem too worse for wear. He couldn’t see any bruises on her face or neck, and her scent glands looked to be free of any mating bonds. 

Well, at least she wasn’t missing anybody special, right? Being separated from a bonded mate for so long could kill a person, especially if they happened to be an alpha or an omega. Steve still couldn’t smell for sure, but this girl had such a small stature that he had a suspicion she might be the latter. 

He caught a glimpse of a thin metal identification band around her wrist, almost like the kind used to track wild animals. On it, Steve could see SUBJECT 1096 stamped in, and he couldn’t help but grimace. What did that mean? That she was an experiment?

As he followed Natasha out into the abandoned hallway, the girl in his arms stirred slightly. She rubbed her cheek against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him as if searching for a scent. When she didn’t seem to find what she expected, he caught her furrowing her brow, her lips turning down in a slight frown. 

“Alpha?” she asked quietly, voice barely audible. 

“You’re safe now,” Steve said, trying to reassure her. She was right, he was an alpha, and he did his best to cover her in a calming scent. The last thing he wanted was a panicked omega on his hands. 

“Not...alpha…” she said weakly, eyes still closed. She raised a hand, grabbing at Steve’s chest with tired fingers. “T-take me home…”

“We’re going somewhere safe,” he said, quickening his pace. “I promise. You’re okay now.”

She let out a tiny whine, squirming half heartedly in his grip. “Want...my alpha…”

As Steve and Natasha walked out of the hidden HYDRA bunker and waited for Clint to bring the plane down, the scent of fresh air finally roused the omega enough that she opened her eyes. Steve looked down at her, worry written all over his face, and as her gaze met his, she looked disappointed. 

Those weren’t the blue eyes she was hoping for. She didn’t know this alpha, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted her soldier back, not this stranger. But she was too tired to fight, still drowsy from her time in cryo, and as he carried her onto the transport, she passed out again, hoping that her alpha would come and find her and take her away from the people she was stuck with now. 

“What--what’s this?” Clint asked, turning in the pilot’s seat as Nat and Steve boarded the plane. 

“She was in cryo,” Natasha said, grabbing an emergency cot and laying it out in the back. “Pulse is there, but we’ve got no idea how healthy she is otherwise.”

“We need to get her back to the tower.” Steve said, setting her down. 

“You got it, Cap.” Clint turned back around. “Weather’s good. Should be just a couple hours til we’re there.”

“I’ll let Bruce know.” Natasha took the copilot’s seat, immediately grabbing a headset to radio back. 

As the craft took off, Amoretta was stuck in an unwelcome sleep. The last thing she wanted was to be unconscious right now, when she knew she was surrounded by unfamiliar alphas. She was grateful for the fresh air, but with it came the scents of people, of strangers, and she didn’t like that one bit. As out of it as she was, she knew that she had been taken out of cryo, and everything else just felt wrong. 

The alpha she had woken up with wasn’t hers. She had been so happy at first, thinking that her soldier had been the one to carry her out of the base...until she caught his scent and realized that it was wrong. The second she knew she was in someone else’s arms, all she wanted to do was thrash and kick and bite, but she simply didn’t have the strength yet.

So she had to settle for sleeping, and, thankfully, dreaming. 

Cryo never seemed to give her dreams, at least not any that she could ever remember. It felt like it had been forever since she had a normal nap, though, and her mind was happy to wander. Thoughts of her soldier swirled around each other, and for the first time in a long time, she was sleeping peacefully.

With nothing else to do, Steve took a seat next to the omega, strapping himself in. And leaning back with a sigh. Who was she, and why was her scent so muted? He had never encountered an omega who was so...well, scentless before. Even when they took suppressants to keep their heats at bay, they still reeked of omega. He never thought anything could change that, but apparently, something could. 

As they flew home, he found himself staring down at her, wondering why HYDRA had her in cryo for so long. She had to be important for them to keep her around, right? They weren’t known for wasting their time with people they couldn’t use. But, then again...what use could they possibly have for an omega who didn’t even smell like one? It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe she was a test subject.” Natasha said, practically reading his mind. 

“Think so?” Steve asked, tearing his eyes away from the omega to look at the spy. 

“We found her in a lab.” She shrugged. “Before the Berlin Wall came down, they had their hands in everything. The Soviets funded countless experiments on omegas.”

Steve frowned. “Guess I missed a lot while I was in that ice.”

“Eh, not much.” Clint said. “Just the same old shit.”

Steve gave him a look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Same old stuff. Better, goody two shoes?”

“Better.”

Barton snorted a laugh. “Come on, work is the one place I can swear without a kid overhearing! You’ve gotta give me a pass once in a while.”

“Never said you couldn’t swear,” Steve sighed, leaning his head back again. He wanted to know what HYDRA was doing with this omega. Were they experimenting on her? She looked like she was fairly healthy, so whatever they had done must not have taken much of a physical toll on her. 

There was also the matter of why they had left her behind when they abandoned their base. There hadn’t been any signs of struggle, at least not that he had seen. It looked like HYDRA had simply chosen to get up and leave one day a few decades ago, with no obvious reasoning as to why. 

Steve had to admit he didn’t really understand why they did what they did. His job wasn’t to analyze their motives, though; his job was to stop them, and that’s what he was going to do. Rescuing this omega was just one small part of that. Of course, it would help if he knew why he had stumbled across her, and what they had been using her for. 

As soon as they landed, Bruce’s assistants were waiting with a gurney, Dr. Banner himself standing nearby. Steve rushed the still-sleeping omega out, placing her down as gently as he could and then watching as she was taken inside to their medical facilities. 

“So...you found her in cryo?” Bruce asked, following after his new patient. 

Steve nodded stiffly. “There was no one else there. The whole place was running on backup batteries.”

Banner made a thoughtful noise as they walked inside. “She’s been asleep this whole time?”

“She woke up briefly while I was carrying her out to the transport. Other than that, she’s been out cold.”

“We’ll have to run some tests to see what’s going on with her.”

“Is she gonna be alright, Doc?” Steve asked.

Bruce stopped outside the lab doors. “Without knowing how long she was on ice and what exactly they were doing with her...it’s hard to say.”

Steve frowned. 

“But...the fact that she hasn’t gone into shock yet is a good sign.” He turned to enter the room. “I’ll have FRIDAY grab you when I’ve got more answers.”

Steve just nodded, standing back and watching the doctor disappear after the mystery omega. Banner was a good guy, and as an omega himself, he would do everything he could to ensure that this one was well taken care of. Steve had no doubt in his mind that Bruce would see that she pulled through. 

Something wasn’t sitting right about all this, though. The situation was bothering him beyond belief. Seriously, what was going on? What was he missing? What was so special about subject 1096?

Maybe Bucky would have an idea.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 8)

a/n: oh my! we have finally reached the end of this story and I never thought it would turn out to be this long but im happy it did! thank you for reading and loving it, and now, enjoy the last part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4k

warning: just pure fluff

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“Girl, even if you don’t win, you’ll surely take the title of the hottest woman on the red carpet tonight.”

Florence’s words make you chuckle, but you try not to move your lips too much as the makeup artist finishes up the last touches on them, using a nude shade.

“Stop, my head is big enough already,” you tell her, giving her a look through the mirror. She is standing a few feet behind you, already wearing her beautiful, golden Versace gown that hugs her perfectly. Her hair is up in a neat bun so her back can be on full display and the diamonds in her ears can also shine brightly. She looks amazing while she is the opposite of what you’ll look like tonight.

Rhonda, the makeup artist has an amazing notion about your look when you showed her the gown you’d be wearing tonight and since the dress is not the sparkly kind, like Florence’s, she went a little heavier with the glitter on your eyes, using mostly whitish-silver colors, creating rosy cheeks and topping it with nude, glossy lips. Your hair is in loose curls with a bunch of extension, creating the illusion that you might as well be Rapunzel herself tonight. But you are the most excited about the gown that’s already waiting for you to be finally put on.

“What time is it?” you ask Florence as you don’t have your phone on you, but she has hers in her hands already.

“We still have half an hour before we have to leave. Dude, I can’t believe you are an Oscar nominee and might turn into a winner tonight!” she sighs, eyes shining bright with excitement. She hasn’t come off of this high for days, so over the Moon that you get to walk the red carpet tonight as a nominee.

“Don’t jinx it, Flo,” you warn her.

There’s a knock on the door of the hotel suit you’ve occupied for the glamming and Florence is quick to rush to it answering, but you both know who it is. As she throws the door open Harry comes to your sight, looking  as handsome as ever, wearing his custom made Gucci suit with a pink dress shirt underneath that matches your gown perfectly.

“Florence, you look wonderful!” his british accent fills the room, making you smile. Rhonda sets your makeup with some spray and you’re finally done. Standing up you move your legs around a bit as they went a little numb from all the sitting.

“Thank you! Pink suits you well, Harry,” your friend compliments your man and you watch them smiling.

When Harry’s eyes set on you, the light up, his smile widening from ear to ear. He looks spotless, freshly shaved, his hair recently cut and combed into place for a change. Not that you don’t like it when it’s all tousled and messy, especially when it’s because of your fingers.

“Angel, wow!” he breathes out as he walks up to you, taking your hands in his. You know he wants to kiss you, but doesn’t want to risk messing your lips up, so he is left with admiring you with only his eyes.

“Just wait until you see her in the dress!” Florence chimes in making you chuckle. You kept your dress a secret, wanting to surprise him with the first look. You gave out only the most necessary details for Lambert so the two of you could match.

“You’d be great like this too,” he teases, taking a look at your fluffy robe.

“I’m not going to the Oscars in a robe,” you tell him with a narrow-eyed look.

“I know, I’m just saying that you’d still be stunning,” he mumbles with a boyish smirk.

“Y/N? Time to choose a necklace!” Your stylist, Rupert appears from the room where your gown is hanging. He has a few jewelry boxes in his hands and he sets them all to the coffee table, opening up you are met with four breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklaces, each of them different yet so magical looking, you can’t decide which one you like the most.

“Harry, which one do you like the most?” you ask, kneeling down next to the table, mesmerized by the jewelries in front of you. Harry leans down and inspects them one by one before poking on the last one in the row. It has three rows of diamonds, not too big, the stones in the last row are shaped like water droplets, it’s such an elegant looking piece, it surely caught your eyes as well and you think it would be perfect with the dress.

“This one,” he tells you and you nod, shutting the other boxes, satisfied with the choice.

“Alright, time to get you into the gown, girl,” Rupert winks, gesturing at you to follow him into the room.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Harry, risking a quick peck on his lips before you disappear in your temporary dressing room.

You fell in love with the gown on the first fitting when Rupert pulled it out, still in the finishing phase. It still has pins in it, but it already took your breath away. It has a massive A-line skirt and a tight upper part that hugs your body perfectly, a row of buttons running down the middle of it. The sleeves are puffy, but then end in a tight run from a little above your wrists, the same set of buttons appearing like on your chest. It’s giving out some Victorian style vibes in a more sophisticated and simpler way, but it’s by far your favorite dress you’ve ever worn to any event.

It surely needs the extra pair of hands from Rupert to put it on, but once you are secured in it, you feel like a princess straight out of a fairytale and surely, your prince is standing on the other side of the double doors.

“Alright! Everyone get ready for the big reveal!” Rupert announces, sneaking out the room so he can open the door for you. He waits a few moments as you hear everyone shuffle around outside, probably lining up to see you walk out in your finished state. “Okay, three! Two! One! Welcome our Oscar nominee!” he cheers, a round of applause is heard before you even appear, but it’s quickly replaced with gasps when Rupert pulls the doors open and they get the first glimpse of you in your gown.

“Holy fuck!” Florence gasps, mouth hanging open as she keeps raking your form up and down. Your eyes find Harry’s gaze and you see him in a state you haven’t often found him in the past almost two years you’ve been dating. He is completely speechless, eyes glued to you in awe as if he just saw an angel in real life.

“Y/N, I—wow,” he breathes out, still at a loss of words.

“You like it?” you ask with a shy smile.

“I fucking love it, baby. You look… You really are an angel,” he tells you, making you chuckle at his words.

“Would you please help me put on the necklace?” you ask him and he nods eagerly, carefully taking the jewelry out of its box and walking behind you, he brings it around your neck, his fingers delicately working on the clasp. Once it’s all set, you step to the floor to ceiling mirror, taking in the final look.

“There won’t be a straight woman left on Earth once you step on the red carpet,” Florence bluntly comments, making everyone in the room laugh.

“Let’s take some photos, I need to immortalize this masterpiece,” Rupert gestures around, already grabbing his camera.

The next ten minutes you take hundreds of photos, alone, with Florence and then with Harry. He still seems a little stunned by your look, feeling shy when he circles his arm around your waist, but it’s cute that you can still have such an effect on him after being together for almost two years.

Florence snaps some with your phone as well, your favorite is when he held your waist and leant you back, making you arch backwards as your noses touched since he couldn’t kiss you. You already know it’ll end up as your lockscreen, replacing the selfie the two of you took on your latest trip to Hawaii.

When it’s time to leave you grab your little purse with your phone and other necessities and the three of you pile up in a minivan, since your dress needs all the space so it doesn’t get wrinkled before you step out to the red carpet.

As you sit in the car and watch the buildings pass by, your nerves start to rise in you. When the nominations came out a month ago it seemed so far, you couldn’t imagine yourself actually attending the Academy Awards, but now here you are, on your way to find out if you’ve been good enough to be the best.

Your role in Sinful Heaven has brought a lot to your life aside from the nomination. The three months of filming was one of the hardest times in your life you’ve ever worked through and at some points, you didn’t even think you’d get through it. Working so closely with Levi took a toll on you while you were trying to prove in such a heavy and serious role. It was a mess especially at the beginning when you and Harry were still in this weird phase, but that eventually turned right when he literally punched Levi in the face and ten minutes later asked you to be his girlfriend. It’s a badass way to start a relationship and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, especially because it put Levi into place or at least scared him enough to get off your back for the rest of the filming.

When Harry left following that visit, you couldn’t see each other until filming wrapped and you flew straight to him and travelled with him for the next two weeks, hopping from one city to the other, watching him perform every other night and spending all your time with him.

When the movie premiered eight months later, you didn’t appear with Harry by your side, Maya was your date for the evening, but by that time everyone knew you and Harry are an official couple. Neither of you felt like hiding it or caring about what others would think and you were able to focus on each other and rely on the strong foundation you’ve built for your relationship.

He was there with you when the nominations came out and probably screamed louder when your name appeared in the list. With tearing eyes and choked out sobs you jumped into his arms as he mumbled into your ear.

“I’m so proud of you, Angel. So, so proud!”

And now you are on your way to the show, only hours away from finding out if your dreams will come true tonight. Harry squeezes your hand and you turn to face him, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nervous?” he asks with a small smile.

“Very,” you admit with an airy chuckle.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m very proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Since it’s the first time you and Harry appear on the red carpet as a couple, once you set your feet out of the car, everyone goes nuts. He helps you out and even fixes your dress so it falls just perfectly around your frame before he offers his arm. You link your through it, taking a deep breath as the two of you start walking down the carpet, posing for the photographers.

You feel powerful and strong, like it’s the peak of your career, but you also feel that it wouldn’t be the same without Harry by your side even though he is making sure to let you shine tonight. At one point he even steps back for a moment so photographers can snap you alone and you think it’s such a caring move from him.

You feel a little dizzy from all the flashlights by the time you walk into the theater, Harry holding your hand tightly as he leads you to your seats.

You’ve been to plenty award shows and it’s not even your first Academy Awards appearance either, but for obvious reasons, it’s the most important. Sitting in your plush chair, you can barely stop yourself from continuously fidgeting as one category follows the other and it’s still not yours.

Then following a jaw-dropping performance from Dua Lipa, Chris Evans walks out with a golden statue and an envelope in his hands and your heart skips a beat, but not because of the man himself, but because you know he is the presenter of the Best Actress category.

Your hold on Harry’s hand on your lap tightens and you glue your eyes to the big screens behind Chris as he smiles around.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to be here and to present the award for Best Actress. The theater tonight is filled with exceptional talents, but let’s see the nominees,” he speaks into the microphone and then he starts listing the names.

Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Margot Robbie and Rooney Mara are called and a camera fixates on each of them when Chris says their names, all smiling brightly and waving around before your name is called at the end. Taking a deep breath you plaster your most wonderful smile across your face, waving around like the other nominees did before the big screen splits, showing the five of you simultaneously.

“We’ve seen some spectacular performances from these ladies and now let’s see who proved herself to be the best this year.”

Chris flips the envelope open and pulls the little paper out that has the winner’s name written on it and for a moment you’re convinced you’ll pass out. You’ve never felt this anxious before and you’re gripping Harry’s hand so tightly you’re surprised he hasn’t pulled it back, but he is patiently putting up with your nerves, his eyes glued to the man on the stage as well.

“And the Academy Award for Best Actress goes to…” Chris starts with a charming smile, holding a short pause before he finally says the name. “Y/N Y/L/N for her role as Marie Davidson in Sinful Heaven!”

Your mouth hangs open, ears ringing as you process that your name was called. Everyone around you jumps up, including Harry, who is screaming just like when the nominations came out, while you are completely blank. It takes you a couple of moments to realize that you in fact just won your first Oscar and everyone is waiting for you to go and get your little statue.

“Baby! Baby you won!” Harry cheers as he helps you up from your seat and you throw yourself into his arms as reality sets in. “I fucking love you, Angel. Go and get your Oscar!” he laughs, pride all over his face as he urges you to walk up to the stage.

“Walk me up, please!” you stammer, not trusting yourself with walking in this fragile state. He offers his hand without a second thought, walking you to the stage where Chris is politely waiting for you to help you up on the stairs.

“Thank you,” you breathe out once you’re finally up on the stage, every set of eyes on you as Chris hands you the little statue.

“Congratulations,” he smiles as the two of you exchange two kisses on the cheeks before he steps aside and lets you give a speech.

You thought about writing a few words beforehand, but you figured if you end up being the winner you’d forget the whole thing, so there would be no use and that’s the case. Your mind is still blank as you look down at the award in your hands, the crowd still cheering on you, giving you a few extra moments to figure out what to say.

“I uhh—I don’t even know what to say, this feels like a dream,” you admit talking into the microphone, the clapping dying down so that everyone can hear your words. “I want to thank to everyone who worked on Sinful Heaven, because I wouldn’t be here without them. To my wonderful director and amazing costars, it’s been such a wonderful journey with you all. Thank you to my friends and family who were there with me from the very start, believing in me when I was losing faith in myself, thank you for never giving up on me. To my parents who I assume are now crying in front of the TV,” you add chuckling softly, imagining your mom and dad in tears as they listen to your words. “This is a wonderful sign to me that I am where I need to be and that I’m on the right path, so thank you for giving me even more motivation to keep me going on my way.”

Your eyes roam around all the guests until they fall on one proud man staring at you in his Gucci suit and pink dress shirt, his green eyes looking glossy as he listens to your words.

“And last but not least, thank you to one special person, because I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here tonight without him. I have one thing to tell you.” Forgetting about everyone in the theater you hold up the Oscar in your hand as you finish your speech: “Never have I ever loved someone like I love you.”

The crowd starts cheering again as you step away from the microphone and Chris is quick to jog up to you and help you down the stairs, Harry rushing back to take your hand once Chris lets go of it.

You catch him wipe a tear off his cheek as the two of you walk back to your seats hand in hand. Once you are settled, you take a deep breath and turn to Harry who is already looking at you, the same proud smile you saw from the stage still on his handsome face.

“I have never,” he tells you as his answer to the last line of your speech and you chuckle as your free hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. The lipstick on your lips long forgotten as you finally kiss him for the first time tonight.

“I have never either,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again and again.

***

  Smiling around you wait for the audience to quiet down as you make yourself comfortable in the familiar armchair. It’s such a nostalgic feeling to sit here again.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to have you here again,” Ellen greets you once the clapping has stopped.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. A lot has happened since the last time you were here, you won an Oscar just a few weeks ago, congratulations!”

The cheering starts again as a picture of you appears on the screen behind you, wearing your iconic pink gown, holding your Oscar in your hands.

“Thank you,” you shyly smile, still not entirely in peace with the fact that you are now an Oscar winning actress.

“Such a major thing, congrats.”

“Thank you, it is a huge thing, yes.”

“Do you already have a spot for the award? Does it have a designated place?”

“Well, for now it is in my study along with some more mementos, but I’m planning to have a little stand made in the living room,” you share your plans.

“Surely, I would want to show it off if I had an Oscar,” Ellen chuckles. “You have such a busy time behind you, have you been up to something new lately?”

“We finished filming the third season of The Umbrella Academy, so now I’m having a little break before I jump into anything new.”

“Sounds nice, you deserve all the relaxing. Anything planned while you’re on a break? A new book to read, or maybe a concert to go to?” she asks and you already know where this is heading.

“You know you can just ask if I’m planning to attend a Harry Styles concert,” you bluntly tell her, making the audience and Ellen laugh.

“Well, I was just asking around about your plans, but I’m happy you plan to visit Harry’s concert! It’s also good to know that the situation has changed since the last time you were here, you definitely have been to one of his concerts since then.”

“I have been, yes,” you admit smirking.

“And I assume the two of you are now very close, am I right?” she asks and suddenly a paparazzi photo of the two of you appears where you’re walking down the street hand in hand just a couple of weeks ago.

“You could say that,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Amazing, because he is going to join us now. Everyone, please welcome Harry Styles!” Ellen announces and turning around you spot Harry walking out from backstage, the audience screaming for him. He shyly waves around walking up to the center, greeting Ellen with a kiss on the cheek before he turns to you, pecking your lips shortly as he sits down next to you.

“Harry, so good to see you again,” Ellen smiles at him.

“Good t’ see you as well,” he nods.

“So, the last time you two were sitting here, you—it was the first time you ever met, right?”

“Right,” you nod with Harry.

“And now you are…” she gestures at the two of you, not finishing the sentence, but everyone knows what she meant by that.

“And now we are… not strangers anymore,” Harry says chuckling, making everyone in the studio laugh.

“Certainly,” Ellen nods. “Alright, I thought that we could play another game, just to bring back some nice memories,” she explains, reaching behind her armchair, grabbing the familiar board from her, flipping it in your hands with a nostalgic smile.

“Can we keep it PG rated though?” Harry asks, examining his board before looking up at Ellen.

“No,” she simply answers, reaching for her cards as the audience starts laughing. “Okay, you know how to play it, no need for explanation. Here is the first one: Never have I ever used my fame to get in somewhere.”

Ellen is quick to show the I HAVE side of her board and you slowly do the same while Harry thinks to himself.

“Oh come on, you surely have,” you elbow him playfully as he smirks in your way, holding up the same side as you and Ellen.

“We all have, it’s not a shame,” Ellen shrugs. “Next one. Never have I ever forgotten the name of someone right after they introduced themselves.”

Ellen holds up the I HAVE side and you do the same again while this time Harry flips it over to I HAVE NEVER confidently.

“Really?” Ellen asks him, surprised at his answer.

“I’m good with names,” he simply shrugs.

“That’s a good trait. Alright, let’s move on. Never have I ever punched someone in the face.”

It’s a sneaky and very shady statement. Just a few days after the incident with Levi, word got out that he was punched, a few blurry pictures floating around the internet of his bruise, then fans figured out it had to happen around the time Harry visited set and people were quick to put the picture together and assume that Harry was the one who hit Levi, but it was never confirmed.

Glancing at your boyfriend you are fighting your smile back, holding up the I HAVE NEVER side as he is looking back at you slyly, continuously flipping his board before it finally lands on I HAVE, the audience immediately rumbling at the partial confirmation and seemingly Ellen is also amazed by Harry’s honesty.

“Alright, interesting. Love that for you, Harry,” he comments making everyone laugh as you reach over and give Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Last one,” Ellen announces, reading the last statement from her cards. “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone I played never have I ever with.”

Ellen quickly shows her I HAVE NEVER side as you suck your lips into your mouth, glancing at Harry again. You share a look before you both slowly raise your boards, both reading the same sign on them: I HAVE.

[volleychumps]

hey hey hey i love you & your work 🥺🥺💕 can i request hc or scenario (up to you, love) of akaashi, ushijima, & tsukki being cramped on a busy subway train with the girl they like and having to like be v close & trying to give each other room but there IS NO ROOM and ! there’s a pervert feeling her up and they see she’s Very Uncomfy and save her from it? thanks ily 💓💓 congrats on 3k

Thank you for 3.4k! Have some fwuffy scenarios you guys seem to like protective boyos tehe 

Protecting their Crush on a Subway w/ Akaashi, Ushijima, and Tsukishima

Warning(s): depictions of harassment 

------------------------------------

Akaashi

He knew you rode this train. 

It was an evident fact that stood out in his mind when he would board after a grueling practice, instantly seeing you in the same spot at the same time of the day after your own club activities, either immersed in a book or your playlist, a light tune in your throat. Akaashi would make sure to always sit on the other side, risking a glance at two at you from the other side of the subway train, always keeping a distance- yet always keeping you in sight. 

And it was evident that the setter had no intentions on acting on any blooming feelings he felt emerging from your small giggles reserved for yourself, or even the tasteful choice of book of the day you flipped through. He was satiated from his distance, hands tucked away in the warmth of his pockets as he watched you hurriedly tuck your novel away and get off at your stop. 

Until the day came where the distance was closed. Harshly. 

He wondered where you were as the sun set and the train conductor was making their final calls, the subway growing unbearably cramped- a fact he noticed as soon as he realized your absence- not being able to handle the small quirk to the corner of his lips when you stumble on out of breath just as the final call was being heard. 

Blue-green eyes watch from a peripheral view as you bite your lip at the sight of your seat being taken, looking around kind of lost before your eyes fell on his school uniform. Akaashi tilts his head, scooting just enough towards the person next to him to make room that had your eyes brightening at the motion. 

 Your grateful smile had both corners of his lips quirking up now, and you sit graciously in the seat next to him while whispering a small thank you, now not having to stand up and hold onto one of the rails. He simply nods, looking down at his own book but not really paying attention to it, noticing a bit too late that your leg was pressed tightly up against his. He feels the blush emerge before he can stop it, but keeps his eyes on the inked words. 

But his leg wasn’t the only one yours was pressed against. 

He feels you stiffen mere minutes after the train began to move, and his blue eyes drifted to his left to break the ice and talk to you-

and he wished they had sooner. 

Akaashi’s eyes narrow at the sight of a dirty hand inching towards your thigh, exposed from the skirt of your school uniform. You were quiet and reserved at school (one of Akaashi’s favorite traits), and was most likely not the type to speak up when an incident like this was happening. And he wasn’t either. 

Until now. 

He casts a glance to your face to see you near tears, face flushed in embarrassment as you internally struggle with the choice of making a scene, prompting Akaashi to shut his book with a sharp clap, feeling your trembling increase as the hand slides up further. You feel his breath tickle your ear as you look at him slightly, watery eyes blinking in confusion. 

“Excuse me, L/N-san.” 

Your eyes widen a little bit when Akaashi’s arm wraps around your waist, reaching behind you to snatch the other side tightly, pulling you into his side snugly so far away from the perv next to you that your leg is almost on top of his. Akaashi ignores the thump in his ears and heat in his cheeks as he rests your head on his shoulder, lifting his head slightly to shoot a venomous glare at your perpetrator over your head. 

The old man laughs nervously, deciding it was a good time to get off as the train came to a stop, nodding once to Akaashi before making a hasty exit. 

Akaashi sighs, narrowing his eyes further when he saw all the extra space, signaling that the old bag had been pressing up to you on purpose. He lets go of your waist immediately, not surprised you scrambled off him as fast as you did. 

“I’m sorry for acting rashly, I-” 

“Thank you!” You bow deeply, now having the room to do so as the volume of the train car had lessened drastically. “A-Akaashi-san, right? I see you around school sometimes so don’t freak out, I know you’re a gentleman! How do I make it-?” 

“L/N-san.” 

You tilt your head, and Akaashi hums, content look on his face as he opens his book back up. 

“You missed your stop.” 

“You...know my...?” 

“Will you allow me to walk you home when my stop comes?” Akaashi rushes out, internally beating up for his mistake before a warm smile crosses your face, the setter relaxing at the sight of it as you nod once. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Very well.” Akaashi clears his throat as you shift a bit closer to him despite the distance you could easily put between the two of you. 

“What are you reading?” 

Akaashi feels his lips curl again, anger fading away as he tilts the book in your direction to explain, legs touching one another voluntarily-

suddenly glad the distance had been closed. 

Ushijima

He always stood two hand rails down from you. 

The train ride home had always been a rather cramped one, but the regulars on this train were the same people who knew that the certain railing you were holding was yours at this time of the day. And Ushijima’s railing was his. 

Two away. 

Ushijima saw the way your face lit up when you talked to Tendou, the kind smile gracing your features enough to make a foreign feeling bump around in his chest as he stood off to the side awkwardly. Tendou had flicked your forehead, and you had pouted in his direction with the most adorable eyes-

“Are you just going to let your friend bully me?” 

And then you had taken his arm, sticking your tongue out at Tendou as you pretended to begin to pull him in another direction. 

“Just for being an ass, I’m stealing your one and only Ushijima~” 

“YOU WOULDN’T DARE-” 

But the funny thing? He found himself wanting to go in the direction you had wanted him to, your small hand wrapped around his bicep as the wing spiker tried to translate just what he was feeling. 

And when you let go, he blinked. And blinked some more as you giggled and waved as you walked off, suddenly wishing Tendou hadn’t interfered as the redhead places a curse on you from afar. 

He glances at you, hand loosely holding onto the holder above your head, eyes cast downward. You probably didn’t know you were on the same train, seeing that you never looked at your surroundings much due to your focus on your phone. 

But he suddenly wished you looked around you before you left yourself vulnerable to the person who wasn’t a regular on the train. 

Ushijima’s glances turn to a full on-stare at what was happening, eyes hardening at the sight of some geezer approaching you from behind, resting his front against you as you freeze. The brunette boy watches as your face contorts to one of fear, the phone screen turning off and stopping it’s illumination on your face. 

And then you glanced around for help, instantly locking eyes with him. 

Ushijima moved hastily, maneuvering around the oblivious passengers before stopping to tilt his head intimidatingly at the man pressed up behind you. 

Two handrails away. 

“Y/N, there you are. I was starting to think you missed the train because I didn’t see you.”

Ushijima smoothly steps between your harasser, taking his place and ignoring the slight stumbling of the pervert, keeping a respectful distance from you before his hands rest on the same handrail. Olive eyes peer down at you, his worry for you winning against the anger in his head. 

He glances behind you, eyes narrowing down into a glare as the old perv whistles and looks in every direction except his, Ushijima’s height and pissed-off expression now very apparent. 

“Something you needed, sir?” The words come out lacking any form of respect, and the geezer only shakes his head no hastily before making an excuse to go to the other side of the train car, leaving as the train comes to it’s next stop. 

Ushijima doesn’t take his eyes off of him until he’s out the doors, huffing through his nose with a shake of his head before glancing down at you, seeing a slight quiver to your shoulders before sighing. He goes to move away, wanting to give you much-needed space-

but your hand grabbed the side of his school jacket before he could take a single step. 

“U-Ushijima-Kun...” 

Olive eyes widen at the tear that slipped your eye as you looked up at him, tremble in your voice. 

“Could you...stay there?” 

And the thump was back in his chest, Ushijima merely nodding once as you relax your grip on the side of his jacket, facing forward again as you hastily wipe at your eyes. 

“Um, sorry to ask, but could we maybe ride the train together going forward-?” 

“Yes.” 

You turn again at his abrupt response, the kind smile filling your face in relief as Ushijima finds himself giving a content one back, tightening his grip on the railing-

now no longer two rails away. 

Tsukishima

He preferred to stand. 

Lesser chance that people would have to be so close to him, easier to mind his own business, his height giving him an innocent view of...

You. 

You who sat with one leg crossed over the other as you absent-mindedly stared at the outside flashing by with the speed of the train, lost in your thoughts as the tall blonde who held the railing a few feet away could watch as you entered your head- void of reality. He would watch as a book lay-half open in your lap, your thumb holding your place as you watch the world from outside the train window flit by.

Tsukishima liked how lost you got. 

Like the day you had bumped into him, the blonde already pissed about getting to school late before now having deal with disheveled you, jacket hanging halfway off your body and still pulling a shoe on. You had looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression, apologizing profusely as Tsukishima remained indifferent, this close to snapping before- 

“Here! Take this, you’re late too so you probably didn’t get to eat anything-” 

And then a pastry was shoved into his hands before you were running off into the entrance, waving backwards before turning around slightly, the blonde boy bewildered as a wide grin passed your face- 

“See you around!” 

Tsukishima found himself wanting to do the same as well, unwrapping the pastry that was much too sweet for the morning-

still chewing on it as he mildly walked up to the entrance you had darted off in, now not annoyed at the fact that he had been late in the first place as sugar coated his tongue. 

Tsukishima kept you in his line of sight, immersed in his phone while knowing if you had caught him it would probably be translated as some creepy action, but you never had looked away from the outside. He wondered what would happen in the case that you did, knowing he surely wouldn’t be trying to get your attention- 

And he suddenly wished you would look away to notice the odd man oh-so-casually gripping the railing that was in front of your seat, stepping in front of you with no good-intentions behind his smirk. 

Tsukishima loses his grip on the railing above as the man begins to talk you up, you flinching at the sound of the voice in surprise before innocently peering up at him with that same doe-eyed expression-

the look on your face a bit too familiar with the blonde as the man nears even closer, a look of uncomfort passing over your face as it looks like you’re kindly telling him that you’re still a high-schooler.

Tsukishima feels his jaw clench when the stranger grabs a few strands of your hair, rubbing it between his fingers as you flinch away, his hand darting out to grab your face-

“Oji-chan, that’s not a very nice way to touch a girl, is it?” 

The smile on Tsukishima’s face was feigned so-obviously, golden-brown eyes spinning in a dangerous glint as he tilts his head, smile straining as he raises his voice. 

“If I didn’t know any better, it would be harrassment if that girl didn’t like it- oh! Is she crying?” Tsukishima clicks his tongue as the onlookers begin to take their phones out, whispering amongst themselves in judgement as the perpetrator stumbles over his words. 

He casts a glare to the blonde as Tsukishima’s grin only widens, scoffing before getting off the train as it comes to it’s next stop. Tsukishima ignores the applause when the perverted man steps off, merely stepping in front of you and gripping the railing above as you look up at him with eyes brimmed with tears. 

The grin fades as Tsukishima sighs, collapsing in the now-open seat next to you before looking straight ahead, voice now it’s signature monotone as he sits his bag next to him. 

“Oi. You can cry. I won’t judge you. Much.” 

And he doesn’t stop you as you lean your head on his shoulder and let your tears of relief slip freely down your cheeks, the blonde shooting glares at anyone sending you pitiful looks until your stop comes. You wipe away your tears hastily, looking behind you in confusion when Tsukishima grabs his bag to get up with you. 

“What-?” 

“Are you dense? I’m walking you home.” Tsukishima glares at you, daring you to comment on it before grabbing your forearm and dragging you off the train, your sniffling filling his ears as he begins to walk out of the station. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” You manage out after directing him to where your house is, the blonde still three steps in front of you as his hold on your forearm tightens just a little more. 

“Wait for me after school. You’re riding with me from now on.” 

“But-” 

“Okay? Goodnight.” 

Tsukishima turns on his heel, wishing he could hear your door open to ensure you get in okay before your voice makes him stop mid-step. 

“T-Thank you! I’ll be waiting after school...Tsukishima-Kun.” 

The blonde glances behind him, lips curling up into a smirk at the sight of a pretty smile now filling your face in the moonlight. 

“You won’t get lost when you’re with me, idiot. Let me see you go in before I change my mind.” 

----------------------------------------------

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046 @aprettyfruit @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @wisepandaslimeland @deadontheinsidebut @lmkjimin @h0ngh0ngh0ng @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @orangegiraffe7

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering… could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique “soul mark”, which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader gets a bit of a backstory here, with just enough concrete details to serve the plot in future chapters. Hopefully enough is kept vague for people to enjoy it. Now... Time to meet your new kids-in-law/the gremlins :) Previous Chapters: 1: In The Shadow Of Giants

2: Uncertain Destinations

“You already know my name, as well as my fate, and I have neither threats nor demands to make of you. I am at your mercy, regrettably, with nothing more to say. Shall we consider ourselves ‘introduced’? Or is there more you wish to ask of me?” You wonder, eying ‘Alcina’ with a bored expression. It felt odd to refer to her that way, even within the confines of your mind. She had been ‘Lady Dimitrescu’ for as long as you could remember; starting with your years in the village, and continuing through your months here at the castle. One day, perhaps, you would grow used to calling her by her first name. For now, you simply hoped to focus on other matters.

“Tell me of yourself, your past. Who were you before you came here?” Alcina asks, surprising you. What did it matter, now that you were stuck here? At first you shrug, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to open yourself up to her. But before long she’s placed a hand on your shoulder, applying just enough pressure to encourage you to speak. You win this round, you think.

“Somehow I doubt you’ll find it terribly interesting. I was born in the outskirts of the village, on a small farm, just like any other. I had a pet dog, went to ‘school’ with my neighbors, and spent my weekends volunteering with the church. The only thing you might not expect is that I lived outside the village for about a decade. Traveled for a while, never really staying anywhere for terribly long. Eventually, I got tired, and so I came back to help my parents with what little property they had left,” you explain, quietly. Being vague had been intentional, considering the nature of a few details. Did she need to know why you had left? Or that you had once revered Mother Miranda?... No, because if she learned that, it would not be long before she learned that you had changed your mind years ago. Something told you that she wouldn’t appreciate your lack of faith in her mistress. “That was six months ago, roughly. Barely got to spend time with my parents before I was ‘donated’ to the staff here.”

“Not many ever leave the village. Those that do rarely, if ever, return. How particular,” Alcina replies, giving a soft hum. There’s something in her expression that tells you she’ll eventually ask you to elaborate. For now, however, she seems content to move on. Internally you sigh in relief. “I suppose this is sufficient to sate my curiosity, for the time being. Now come with me, I’d like to introduce you to my daughters, to ensure that they understand you are… off limits.” With that said she stands, once more reminding you just how small and fragile you are in comparison, before heading towards the exit. You’re nearly forced to jog in order to keep up with her long strides. As she leads you through hallways, down a flight of stairs, and past several nervous looking maidens, she slows down the slightest bit, having eventually noticed your struggle. Admittedly, that’s more kindness than you would have anticipated. Perhaps she was used to adjusting her pace for her daughters?

Whatever the reason, you do appreciate it. Still, by the time you arrive at your destination, the castle’s library, your legs are feeling the smallest bit sore. Brushing off the ache, you follow Alcina inside. Then you’re taking in the sights, having not been here before, admiring the impressive collection. Glad I’m not responsible for cleaning this place, you think as you pass by dozens of filled shelves. Before long you encounter the three daughters. They’re sitting in a semi-circle, each with their own book, though they’re quick to sit up once they spy their mother. One by one they’re smiling up at her, not even sparing you a moment’s glance. Admittedly you’re glad for that. What good could come from their attention, especially when they don’t yet know who you ‘truly’ are?

“I’m glad to see you’re all in one place, my darlings. There has been a… development, of sorts,” Alcina says, speaking in the same tone one might use to address a faculty meeting. In a less intimidating household, it would have been much harder to hold in a laugh. Was this always how she spoke to her children? For their sake, you hoped not (though the concept was amusing). Regardless, it is at this point that the daughters notice you, with one of them looking intrigued enough to send a shiver down your spine. You’re pretty sure her name is Daniela, being the only one you haven’t met before today. A toothy grin spreads on her lips, and once you make eye contact you swear that she winks at you. This literally could not be any worse, you think, unable to stop yourself from frowning.

“Does it have to do with this little thing?” Daniela purrs, taking a step towards you. Instantly both Alcina and yourself are tensing up. While your soulmate shifts in front of you, an incredibly faint rosy tint to her cheeks, all you can do is pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers.

“This ‘little thing’ is not your newest playtoy, Daniela. Rather, they are my-” she hesitates, disliking the way the word feels in her mouth- “soulmate. I expect the three of you to behave, understood? At the very most, you are allowed to prevent them from leaving the premises, but even then I expect you to remain gentle. Have I made myself clear?” Alcina asks. Now she’s not the only one blushing, as Daniela looks so embarrassed that you wonder if she’ll pass out. Maybe now you’ll think twice about flirting with everyone you meet, you think, remembering the various rumors you’ve heard about her. For a moment, part of you imagines what your relationship with her would look like, were you to continue ‘courting’ her mother. Could this be a moment you could torment her with for life? Get some cheeky revenge for all the maidens who couldn’t risk it? A lovely thought, though one soon interrupted.

“Of course, mother. We will not lay a single finger on them, unless we have no other choice. Right, sisters?” Bela replies, turning to her siblings with an expectant look. Neither of them seem terribly pleased, but they nod, each giving their own verbal affirmations. All three spend a few moments glancing you over, reevaluating you now that they know who you are, appraising your worth. It’s not hard to imagine that they all find you lacking- at least in comparison to their mother. “Are introductions in order? We’ve met before, but I hardly know anything about them. It would be… nice to properly meet the newest edition to our family.” The way Bela says the words makes you nervous, and the way Cassandra grins only worsens the feeling.

“If you desire such, I see no reason to forgo such a thing. Perhaps the three of you could give them a tour? I must return to my duties, and I doubt they have seen much of the castle, given their… former occupation,” Alcina admits, softly. Was this a confirmation that you’d no longer have to spend every day working yourself to the bone? On one hand you were somewhat relieved, but you also regretted the possible loss of your preferred coping method. Worse, were you really going to spend who knows how long with the dreaded Dimitrescu daughters? They were going to rip you to shreds, at least verbally, you were sure of it. How could you ever meet their expectations? If they were anything like their mother, you would never be enough to satisfy them. Or at least that is what you assumed.

“I’ve seen a fair bit,” you interject, awkwardly, hating the way it brings everyone’s gaze back to you. Alcina’s lips twitch, as she fights back a frown. Evidently she didn’t appreciate you countering her suggestion.

“Please, we insist,” Bela fires back, a pleasant tone covering her thinly-veiled animosity. “I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time getting to know each other. You do want to learn more about your soulmate’s children, don’t you?” Something about the way she speaks makes you want to laugh. When you smile back at her, it’s without a hint of any placating intentions, rather a dewdrop of mischief. Bold of her to assume that you wanted to make her mother happy. After all, it was clear from her phrasing that this was a ‘test’, a ruse to ‘reveal your true colors’ to Alcina. But you were as uneasy about your part in this as Bela was, neither of you finding yourself a suitable match for Alcina. Despite the way she narrows her eyes at you, her mother is smiling again, glad that she had a way to keep you occupied for the time being.

“It’s settled then,” she says, moving to give each of her daughters a kiss on top of their heads. They giggle at the affection, looking rather proud of themselves. Then she turns to you, hesitating, clearly having the instinct to give you a kiss as well. Half of you wants to stand on your tippy-toes, expectantly, wondering if she’d do it (and how flustered it would make her). Instead, you pretend not to notice, accepting the awkward shoulder pat she ends up giving you. “I will see you this evening, for dinner. Do try to enjoy yourself. But don’t forget-” she leans in until her mouth is right next to your ear, breath tickling your neck- “behave yourself. I will not tolerate any tomfoolery, understood?” Alcina does not pull away until you’ve nodded, and you do not relax until the library door has shut behind her.

Except now you’re alone with her daughters. Wonderful.

---------------------------

Dealing with finances was not, to put it simply, Alcina’s ‘favorite’ activity. Although she employed someone to handle the majority of the paperwork, she made sure to go over it herself to ensure accuracy. There were many aspects to her business, being both legitimate and illegitimate, technically. One could never be too careful about their records. After all, failing to file tax returns had taken down Al Capone, of all people. Who was to say that such a mistake, or one in a similar vein, could not damage House Dimitrescu? Certainly it wouldn’t be enough to ruin them entirely, but it could lead to certain ‘nuisances’ bothering the village. At the end of the day, Alcina cared more about the impact it would have on Mother Miranda than anything else, even the possible decline of her household.

A nasty habit, really. Few knew the extent of her self-entitled devotion to the cult leader. The only bond that ran deeper was that she had with her daughters, who meant more to her than she could ever vocalize. Even then, she viewed them as a gift from Miranda, which in turn strengthened her love for the woman. Now that love leaked into everything she did. With a flourish of her pen, she signed away some of this month’s earnings. So what if she already ‘donated’ a large portion of her income to the village and its leader? Certainly this was a way to show the level of her devotion? Certainly Miranda would take notice, eventually? Praise her for it? Take Alcina’s hand in her own, thumb caressing her skin, eyes filled with a long-sought affection?...

The sound of passing footsteps brings her back into the moment, and Alcina stares down at the mountain of paperwork she’d yet to approve. With a deep sigh she readjusts her reading glasses, sets the finished document aside, then gets back to work. A part of her mind soon starts to drift to other subjects. To you, primarily. Would your affection be easier to gain? Steadier?... But could it, in any way, compare to Miranda’s? No matter how she tries to brush the thoughts away, they nip at her heels, circling her head like vultures. Only time would give her the relief she so desperately sought.

---------------------------

“So, don’t tell me you really think you’re my mother’s soulmate, right?” Cassandra says, somewhat grumbling, as you trail behind Bela. It’s less than five minutes into the tour, with the siblings having behaved so far, focused on actually showing you around. At her words, both her sisters started walking slower. Their gazes were still locked ahead of themselves. The way they positioned themselves, however, made it clear that they were listening. “Is it some elaborate scheme, hmm? Did you spend a dozen hours with the other servants, noting every last detail about her soul mark, before copying it? Do you really think that you’ll get away with this?” Well, ‘twas good to know who the most paranoid of the three were.

“Ah, yes, it’s all a great, horrible ruse. You’ve caught me red-handed, I’m afraid,” you chime, sarcastically. A hand goes to your forehead as you fake faintness. “I’m just so desperate to be scrutinized by yourself and your mother, to have my every movement watched, to somehow be less free than I already was. I simply… cannot… believe… that you saw through my bluff.” With that you give a dramatic sigh, pausing in the hallway to give Cassandra a judgemental look. If not for Alcina’s instructions to keep you safe, you’re certain she would have beheaded you on the spot. “I’m not claiming to understand the universe’s decision. But I’m also not giving up immediately, no matter how much the three of you scare me.” At that, Bela stops in her tracks, slowly turning to you. Instinctively you go to take a step backwards, only for Cassandra to catch you, holding you in place. Next thing you know, the oldest daughter is grabbing your head, staring you right in the eyes.

“Answer one question, and maybe I’ll make sure you don’t fall victim to some tragic, unfortunate accident. Can you see yourself loving my mother?” Bela asks, more intense than you’ve ever seen her before. Despite that, you don’t tremble, swallowing your fear long enough to reply.

“Honestly? I don’t know. She’s terrifying… and beautiful. Cruel to some of the maidens I’ve met… and loving to you three. I… I don’t know if I can love her,” you admit, gulping. “But isn’t that part of the point of trying? To find out? I am going to try, for both my sake and hers, to love her. To cherish her. What more would you ask of me? I cannot tell you how the days to come will go, whether or not your mother will enjoy them, or even whether she could love me. This is not a situation you can threaten into resolving the way you want it to. So let me go, finish the tour, and give me a chance. You owe your mother that much, do you not?” Soon enough the hands keeping you in place loosen their grip, and Bela turns away with a scoff. Honestly, you can hardly believe that your little speech worked. You aren’t given much time to celebrate, however, as the sisters quickly resume their walking. Before long, Daniela is speaking up between giggles.

“I like this one already.”

[cardiomyapathy]

Kelly stared at Cherry, his piercing blue eyes filled with a mix of anger and desire. Her audacity to suggest such a thing infuriated him, yet he couldn't deny the magnetism pulling him towards her. He clenched his jaw, his heart pounding in his chest as he weighed his options.

With a heavy sigh, Kelly reluctantly took a step forward, towering over Cherry. His broad shoulders stiffened as he extended his hand, his touch intentionally firm as he clasped hers. "Fine," he grumbled through gritted teeth, reluctantly following her lead towards the couch.

They settled down, each breath heavy with tension as Kelly's intense gaze bore into Cherry's soul. His voice dripped with disdain, laced with a hint of vulnerability. "So, what's this all about? You think you can just waltz in here and demand my attention?"

Cherry's eyes flickered with a mixture of apprehension and determination. She refused to back down, her voice trembling but resolute. "Kelly, we can't keep pretending that this is just about sex. There's something deeper between us, and we need to address it."

A fleeting moment of vulnerability crossed Kelly's face before he quickly masked it with a haughty smirk. "You're delusional if you think there's anything more than physical attraction here, Cherry. I've got a reputation to uphold, a successful career that demands my focus. Love is just a distraction."

Cherry's brows furrowed, her voice filled with a blend of frustration and longing. "You can keep hiding behind your ego and your career, but I see through it. I see the way you look at me, the way you touch me. There's more to you than this cold, arrogant façade."

Kelly's lips curled into a bitter smile, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Oh, do enlighten me, Cherry. Tell me what you see."

Taking a deep breath, Cherry leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "I see a wounded heart, afraid to let anyone in. I see a man desperate for control, but deep down, yearning for connection. And I see someone who's scared to admit that he needs love just as much as anyone else."

The words hit Kelly like a sucker punch, his defenses momentarily shattered. He recoiled, his eyes narrowing as he tried to regain his composure. "You don't know anything about me, Cherry. Don't pretend like you do."

Cherry's gaze softened, her hand reaching out to touch Kelly's cheek gently. "I may not know everything, but I see enough. And I'm willing to take the risk, even if you're not."

Kelly's resolve wavered, the walls he had built around his heart crumbling under Cherry's unwavering gaze. He wanted to push her away, to protect himself from the vulnerability that threatened to consume him. But a part of him yearned to let go, to embrace the possibility of something more.

In that moment, as the tension hung heavy in the air, Kelly made a choice. With a mixture of fear and hope, he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against Cherry's as he whispered, "Maybe... just maybe, there's more to us than meets the eye."

AI STARTER: @daemondaes

In the cozy confines of their shared apartment, Dr. Kelly Anderson, a sharp-tongued heart surgeon, leaned against the kitchen counter, his scowl accentuating the lines of frustration on his face. His three pugs scampered around, oblivious to the romantic tension that filled the room.

As Cherry approached, her gaze locked with Kelly's, an unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. The air crackled with the magnetic pull between them, their bodies drawn together in a dance of longing. "Looks like we're both caught in a different kind of haunting," she murmured, her voice laced with both playfulness and vulnerability. Kelly's scowl softened, his eyes tracing the curves of Cherry's face. "Yeah, well, it's hard to escape the grip you have on me," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and affection. In the intimate space they shared, the boundaries blurred.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)

AO3

Prev

The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.

“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.

“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.

“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?

“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.

“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”

“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.

“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.

“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.

“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.

“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.

“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.

“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.

“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.

“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!

---

Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.

“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.

“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.

“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.

“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.

“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?

“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.

“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.

“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.

“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.

---

Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.

“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.

“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”

“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.

“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.

“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar��.

“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.

“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.

“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.

“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.

“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.

“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”

“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.

---

Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.

“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.

“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.

“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.

“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.

“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.

“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.

“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.

“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.

“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”

“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.

---

Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.

“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.

“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?

“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.

“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.

“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.

“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.

“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.

“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.

“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.

“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.

“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.

“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.

“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.

“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.

“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.

“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.

“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.

---

Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.

Next

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[nyxsoot]

↳ OF HOME & HEART |

[ summary · you and your lover have come to odds on the battlefield ]

[ pairing · c!technoblade x reader ]

[ word count · 1.5k ]

[ extras · some angst in the time of the pogtopia vs manberg war - contains flashbacks ♥ ]

You had a choice to make and you knew it would break you.

With the thick plumes of smoke touched by the Withers scourging the L’Manberg skies, your lungs burned and eyes stung with unshed tears. Aching arm outstretched, the violent delights of your lover reared their ugly head as you tilted his chin upwards with the flat of your blade.

“Come home with me,” he said, elegant hands stained with dark soot and blood.

Dwelling on the choices that lead you here somehow you wouldn’t change a thing.

You had been the one that held Pogtopia together, the glue between Wil and Tommy; exile had not been kind to either of them deep in the heart of their ravine base. Sly in your rebellion, you had kept close to Schlatt and Tubbo back in Manberg, avidly renouncing old alliances and everything they stood for. He had believed you too, that horrible man, inviting you to stay under his watchful eye in the city. Despite his faith, it seemed Schlatt didn’t want to risk losing you.

In the dead of night under the guise of invisibility potions and a starless sky you slipped through the cracks, peeling back the carpet in your cottage and slinking under the city to make your escape. Invisibility was your superpower. Yes, it came from a bottle the majority of the time, but the ability to stand in a room and hear everything unfiltered without anyone so much as batting an eye was crucial. Your arrows in the Battle of the Lake came in handy, a rain from above with no actual source, but it was your information that was truly valuable.

Stepping into the ravine, your skin began to shift from gone to translucent until it became entirely opaque under the lanterns in the damp cave system. Tracing your fingertips along the stone walls, they bumped occasionally over a button or two, the beginning of what seemed to be a collection by Wilbur. You didn’t question it.

“Y/N.” Wilbur smiled at you, clutching your bicep in one hand and shoulder in the other in some sort of half-hug, a show of comradery if nothing else. “Tell me what news have you brought from L’Manberg.”

And so, you did. Relaying plans, gossip, and rumours, the whispers of others not brave enough to leave themselves or those trapped by nefarious forces. Nodding in quiet contemplation, Wilbur sat in pure silence listening, the quietest the ravine had been since they’d cleared out the mobs.

“It’s getting bad, Wil,” you said, fidgeting with the fabric of his coat, a familiar texture that you missed in Manberg.

He grimaced. ”I can only imagine.”

“And speaking of bad,” you stood up, eyeing his chest with concerned eyes, “Let me see your wound.”

The scowl etched on his face deepened and he nodded once more. Peeling off his torn shirt, you knelt down to examine the scar tissue, eyebrows knitted in pure focus. Here you were yet again, piecing together the broken bits of these war-torn boys as easily as sewing up a flag or tapestry. If you couldn’t mend their souls, you could be the seams holding their skin shut, the buffer between the boys, because that’s what they were.

As you leaned over him to examine the exit wound, a near silent step disrupting your train of thought. In one sleek movement, you were blocking Wilbur’s entire body with your own, crossbow primed in front of you. Your target stood in dirty slacks and an open collared shirt, sleeves rolled up the forearms, soil under his fingernails. His face was frustratingly bemused as his arms raised in faux surrender, hands long and calloused, elegant and obviously used. You were unmoving despite Wilbur’s shuffling to put his shirt on, rising to your side in a too relaxed manner.

“Surely you know The Blade.”

Yes, you had heard of ‘The Blade’ in all his anarchist glory. Said warrior tilted his head down in greeting, peering up through his lashes as he kept your gaze. Huffing, you lowered your crossbow, nodding curtly.

Oh, how far Techno had come from humble potato farmer to full-blown terrorist. In the time between your meeting and his betrayal – all of their betrayals – you had grown to become begrudging comrades in the revolution against Schlatt and his tyranny. Perhaps everything had come to a head when he murdered Tubbo at the festival. Tommy had been ready to fistfight Technoblade in the dark corner if the ravine and you hadn’t let him. You had rolled up your sleeves, removed your rings, and beckoned the piglin hybrid to fight.

Wrapped hands met his chest and face in fast succession, ears ringing deaf to the jeering of your peers, only filled with the blunt pounding of pure violence. A final swift kick to his ribcage ended the fight, caught in his hands as he flipped you onto your back, your dominant hand pinned over your head, leg caught by the thigh.

You could have flipped him if you wanted, brought your head up to collide with his concaving his skull. You didn’t. Struggling under him for a moment, you yielded in your stillness, eyes boring into his, burning brighter than the hanging lanterns above. Pulling himself up, Technoblade held his hand out as an offering. Chest heaving and body quaking, the ravine became vertical once more. His hands were rough, fingertips ghosting over your palm as you disconnected. Tongue darting over chapped lips, you cleared your throat, Wilbur hoisting you out of the pit with a grin that scared you.

Slipping into the darkness, you found respite in the potato farm cultivated by the anarchist, massaging the aching pain out of your limbs. Hearing him before you saw him, a surge of blind rage overtook you and you had him pinned this time against the stone wall.

“He’s just a child,” you hissed, eyes narrowed as he seemed all too complacent under you. “You might be on our side, but they’re both kids and they come first. If I even get a hint that you’re going to hurt either of them again- “

“What, bunny? What could you ever do to hurt me?”

Grip moving roughly to the back of his neck, your lips moved together in a second battle far more intense than the first. You supposed that had been the start of it.

“You want me to come home? With you?” Your voice was hoarse, almost wavering. “This is my home and look what you’ve done to it!”

Technoblade barked out a laugh, bitter and completely amused. “Wilbur did this, Y/N! He was the one who blew it all up, I’m just finishing the job.”

Everything felt numb – heavy. Sword falling to your side, the sword he had made for you, you swallowed back the acid and tears, gut twisting with grief. In the eye of the hurricane the chaos surrounding you seemed irrelevant; the shrieking of your friends, the clashing of their weapons, all fell on deaf ears once more. It was just you and him. A tender moment passed between you as he reached up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Come home.

Moving painfully slow, you began to sheath your sword. How bad would life be with Technoblade? How bad could life be with all of the riches and potions you could ask for, the seclusion of being fugitives. Building a life wouldn’t be so bad, and nothing like this would happen again surely. Retirement beckoned you – he beckoned you.

“Y/N!”

Whipping your head around, you saw Tommy and Tubbo pinned under his shield, the final Wither closing in and the Badlands soldiers not doing anything to get them out.

“You knew who my priority was from the beginning, Technoblade,” You said, voice catching in your throat, tears streaking through the ash built up on your face. “Come with me. I forgive you, everyone else will, just come with me.”

A moment of silence permeated the space between them only broken by the cries of your boys. “Bunny, you know I can’t do that.”

A watery smile took over your face. “Then don’t come back.”

Turning on your heel, you sprinted away before he could grab your shoulder, pick you up and carry you away – before he could change your mind. The Wither was low you could see that; no longer under the guise of invisibility, you charged the monster, driving your blade through its centre. It dissipated into ash underneath you, staining your skin and clothes with thick black soot. Picking the boys up from the ground, you positioned them behind you just as you had many times before with them and with Wil, priming yourself to protect them against Dream and all the other anarchists.

You may have made your choice, but so did he and you both knew he would regret it.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

[gubler-me-up]

Pegging for it

Request: PEGGING SPENCER PEGGING SPENCER PEGGING SPENCER

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, anon! On everything this submission made me gasp, it’s so wild, but very interesting request. Hope you enjoy it and for anyone reading, I hope you’re ready for some S M U T. Yes, the title is a pun. Sue me.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: SMUT (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Swearing, pegging, female masturbation, mention of anal sex, mention of penetrative sex, fem!dom, male!sub, oral (female and male receiving), slapping, rough play, anal fingering, sex toys  

Word count: 2.3k

--------------

Finding someone as sexually adventurous as you were was a hard task to succeed in. Countless partners of yours were often turned off by your dominating role in bed. By no means were you dominatrix, but if your partner wasn’t satisfying you, you had no choice but to take the wheel. Men can be oh so boring and stiff when it comes to sexual acts outside the realm of ramming themselves into you for a few seconds before calling it quits.

Not Spencer Reid though. He did everything and anything you both were comfortable with. To be honest you didn’t think your standoffish genius would be into the things you were, but he was. Maybe even more. It also took you as a surprise he was so demanding and dominant when he wanted to be. He knew how to get your blood pumping all the time.

Tonight, however, was your turn to play the dominant role. You both had agreed to let you take the reins this time around. He only requested one specific thing for you to do to him. With your eagerness, you guessed what he wanted. To be handcuffed? No. To be blindfolded? No. What he told you he wanted made you even more excited.

He wanted you to peg him.

He said it with such a nonchalant tone you thought he had it done to him before. When you asked if he had been pegged before he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He just thought it would be a thrilling experience.

Well, if he wanted a thrilling time you were willing to give it to him. He had given you so much wild, unforgettable nights. You thought it was only right to show him you were capable of giving him the same satisfaction back by being the over dominating person you are.

You walked up to his apartment door and gave it two firm knocks. You didn’t want him to think you were too eager. It would ruin your cool, calm and collected demeanour. You didn’t want to risk any chance of him seeing you break.

He answered the door, still fully clothed in his work clothes. You saw his eyes wander up and down your exterior. The only thing you were wearing was a brown trench coat, black heels and a black bag. He smirked as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Welcome,” he greeted.

You stepped in, looking at him unamused. He closed the door and looked back at you with his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what he did. You crossed your arms as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to be stripped down to your underwear by the time I got here?” You said.

“I thought-”

“No thinking tonight, doctor. Tonight you only obey,” you said.

You walked towards his bedroom. You looked behind you to see Spencer still standing there. With a curl of your finger telling him to come to you, he started walking your way. Maybe he did listen to instructions better than you thought.

As you both entered his bedroom, you closed the door. He had lit a few candles in his room to create a source of light. How considerate of him. You didn’t want your outfit to be put to waste with the darkness engulfing everything. It was as if he knew you wanted a spotlight to show off. He was such an excellent profiler.

“Strip,” you demanded.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and then his pants. You watched as his clothing fell to the floor and he was left with nothing on besides his underwear and socks. For someone so lean, he stood strong. His aura just radiated confidence. You kind of wished he would throw you on the bed and fuck you senseless instead.

He shrugged with an emerging smirk on. “I’m all yours.”

God, could he get any hotter? You placed your bag on the ground and then untied the fabric belt to open up your jacket. As your jacket fell you saw Spencer’s eyes light up as he saw your matching black lace bra and panty set. He licked his lips as his eyes stayed focus on the bottom part of your panty which should have been concealing your desirable lady part. Instead it left it exposed, leaving you ready to jump into action any time.

“You like what you see?” You asked.

He looked back up at you and nodded. You smirked at his silent answer. He already knew he wasn’t supposed to speak unless you told him to. Who said men couldn’t be trained to obey?

“Well, lay on the bed, so you can get a closer look,” you demanded.

He quickly placed himself on the bed, excited to see what you had in store for him. You crawled over him until his eager mouth and your dripping wet part met. Just his breathing on it sent tingles down your spine.

“Now, eat me out like the starving dog you are,” you demanded.

He didn’t waste another second as he plunged his face all in your folds. You felt his tongue glide through from top to bottom. He soon started to hungrily suck on your clit and repeatedly flicked his tongue over it. You moaned heavily as you felt a strong sensation run through your body. He was too good with that tongue of his. You knew right away from all that talking he did his tongue and mouth could do a lot more.

You lifted yourself off of his face before your orgasm hit you. As you looked down at him you could see all your juices covering his mouth and nose. He smiled up at you as he licked some of your juices from his lips.

“Did that satisfy my little pet?” You asked him.

He nodded his head. You smiled at his response, but you didn’t truly believe he was satisfied. You took two of your fingers and stuck them inside yourself. You pumped your fingers in and out of you a few times to get your fingers covered in your juices. When they were soaked enough, you took them out.

“Open,” you said.

He opened his mouth and you stuck your fingers inside.

“Suck them bone dry.”

He did just as you asked, sucking on your fingers as if his life depended on it. You smiled at him enjoying the taste of you. You stroked his long brown hair as you admired his obedience.

“That’s a good boy.”

You removed your fingers from his mouth and inspected his work. He did an amazing job of cleaning your fingers for you. You moved back a bit so you could lean down and kiss him. You only planned to give him a quick peck for doing such a great job, but the force Spencer kissed you back with moved you. It was hot, heavy, almost needy.

You leaned back up and roughly grabbed his face. Your face was unimpressed by the desperate nature of his kiss, but inside you loved it. Whenever he made out with you it was always such a powerful experience. The way his tongue would move in your mouth with such a force and the depth he would with his kiss would nearly floor you.

“Did I tell you to kiss me back?” You asked.

He shook his head.

“Speak up,” you demanded.

“No, ma’am,” he replied.

“Then why did you do it? Is this some sort of act of desperation?” You asked.

“Maybe.”

You smacked his face before grabbing it tightly again. He bit his lip as he looked back up at you, obviously enjoying your extremely dominant nature. You almost broke by smiling at him, but you managed to keep it together, so neither of you left the fantasy.

“It’s a yes or no question. Try again,” you demanded.

“Yes, ma’am, it was an act of desperation.”

You let go of his face and made your way off the bed. You peeled off his underwear and was met with his dick springing up from underneath it. He was extremely hard. It was a shame he wouldn’t be using his dick on you tonight.

You tossed his underwear aside. Taking your hand you started massaging his balls which let out a moan from Spencer. You squeezed them tight and yanked on them when you heard him moan.

“You’ve become too vocal. If you stay quiet for the next minute, I’ll reward you with what you really want,” you said.

He nodded, making sure not to even breathe too loudly. You lowered your head down and wrapped your mouth around his dick. You bobbed your head up and down, viscously sucking him off while still playing with his balls. Taking your other hand you used it to go up and down his shaft. Your saliva dripping down made your hand easily glide on his dick.

The laboured breathing coming from Spencer made your heart pump. You had him right where you wanted him to be before the real fun started. He deserved it after he lasted the full minute of you sucking his dick without a single moan escaping his mouth.

You stopped before he reached his peak. It was time for the main event of the night. You took off your panties and kicked them aside as you walked over to your black bag. You reached in and pulled out the strap-on dildo and then a bottle of lube. Spencer looked at you and you saw the fire spark in him.

You smiled at him. “It’s even in your favourite colour: purple. Now, I want you to get up and lean over the bed. Make sure your legs are apart.”

He hopped off the bed and did what you demanded immediately. You walked over behind him. His ass was so nice and toned for someone who never worked out. You ran your hand over his ass as you admired it. His muscles tightened under your touch which got you even more excited.

“Beg for it,” you said.

“Please, ma’am,” he quietly said.

You slapped his ass. “Please, ma’am, what? I said I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please, peg me, ma’am,” he said with more bass in his voice.

You slapped his ass a second time. “Again.”

“Please, peg me, ma’am.”

Another slap. “Again.”

“I want you to peg me, please, ma’am. I want it.”

You finally stopped slapping his ass even though you were thoroughly enjoying it. He had begged enough for your liking. You squeezed a bit of lube into your hand and lubed up the dildo. Then you took some lube and lubed up his crack. You stuck a finger in his ass to see his reaction. He let out a moan and you felt his muscles clench. Perfect.

“Are you really ready for this, pet?” You asked.

“I want it so bad, ma’am,” he begged.

You took your finger out and properly positioned yourself behind him. Slowly you eased the dildo into him and a remarkable sound of pleasure left his mouth. It excited you and gave you the reassurance you needed to keep going.

Gently you pumped in and out of him, making sure not to put too much force into it. He continued to let out deep, needy moans. You watched the dildo go in and out of him and thought this must be what it looks like for him all the time when you two engaged in anal or even when you were in doggy. The view was definitely a thrilling experience and the sound of his moans echoing the room made it even better.

“Faster,” Spencer moaned.

“Oh no, you don’t demand. You beg. Try again,” you said.

“Please, go faster, ma’am,” he begged.

He didn’t have to beg you twice for it. You pumped in and out of him faster which made him uncontrollably moan. It made you happy he was enjoying himself. You had a feeling he would want to do this more often after this experience.

He was shaking and quivering which only meant he was about to orgasm. You nearly broke into excitement. You were proud the first time you’ve both done pegging it was going extremely well. You remained collected though because you wanted to say the line he always says to you when you’re about to orgasm.

“Come for me,” you demanded.

With no pause he let out a loud moan as you saw his muscles clench. You slid the dildo out and stepped back to admire the now limp Spencer face down on the bed. It was such a weird perspective to not be the one laying limp on the bed after orgasming, but you loved it.

You quickly took off the strap-on as you excitedly hopped on Spencer’s back. You didn’t care anymore about being a dominant in the moment, you were just overly happy he had enjoyed himself. You gave him a big hug from behind as you kissed his head.

“How was that for you, baby?” You asked.

He turned his head sideways to reveal a smile. “It was a great experience.”

“Does that mean we can do it again sometime?” You asked.

“Definitely,” he said.

You squealed and planted a kiss on his cheek. He laughed as he started to get off the bed with you still on his back. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he fully got off the bed.

“How about we take a shower together?” He suggested as he piggybacked you to the bathroom.

“Only if you promise we can have shower sex,” you said while burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Promise. I’ll for sure be a better dominant than you. I won’t break character at the end,” he joked.

“Talk is cheap. Why don’t you just prove it to me instead?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—–

MASTERLIST

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

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