#THIS COULD NOT BE THE WORK OF AN EVIL MADMAN FOR THIS IS TOO CRUEL

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

I THINK I MANAGED TO ACCIDENTALLY PRESS THE BACK KEY REPEATEDLY OR SOMETHING BUT LIKE TWO PARAGRAPHS OF WRITING ARE GONE AND IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME TO CTRL+Z BACK INTO EXISTENCE BUT NOW MY PROGRAM CRASHED SO I DON'T EVEN HAVE THAT ANYMORE IT'S ALL GONE PLEASE JUST KILL ME NOW

[leggerefiore]

Since you seem to be doing a lot of villain posting, how about this: Villains of your choice with an S/O that fully supports their evil team's goals. Why S/O would feel this way is up to you, but they don't think their lover needs to change; the world does.

nssnns in a way I think I established that with Maxie's and Archie's s/os but not as strongly

cw: supporting these dudes at their worst, angst in lysandre's and cyrus's parts,

characters: Lysandre, Cyrus, Maxie, Archie

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ He was aware his ideals were difficult for most to comprehend. Like a strong brew of coffee, most could not bear the intensity of what he believed was best for the world. The Kalosian man simply could not allow for things to continue as they were, however. Greedy, cruel people sought to harm other people and pokemon; to take away the beauty of this world he felt so passionately about. It only made sense that with his passion you, his partner, were well aware of his plans. You were second only to him in Team Flare, even. Even Malva did not dare argue against you, lest she risk the ire of a certain giant.

☕️ The discussion of his plans was something he did without any concerns of your rejecting them. Lysandre had been with you for so long and felt certain that you would understand his ideals even if no one else could. He needed to preserve this world's beauty by committing the ultimate sacrifice. There would be no more struggling over resources, nor would those with ill intentions exist to cause further harm. It would be an unfortunate burden on him forever, however.

☕️ The manner which you came to feel this way may not have been entirely known to Lysandre, but he had heard many different reasons from his members to have an idea. There was an urge to pry into it from him, curious as to what had hurt you so deeply as your caring lover, but he resisted. Forcing one to recount painful things was not something he wished to do. Yet, knowing that something out there had caused you such grave pain spurred him deeper into his plans and ideals. For you, he would easily set the world aflame.

☕️ Admittedly, you have very little to do with the reawakening of the ancient weapon. Team Flare's scientists were the ones who tirelessly worked to bring it out. You, however, were there to comfort and console him through the ups and downs of his operations. Your unwavering support and reassurance made the burden of what he would have to do a bit lighter. It was not long until Geosenge was a mess as the ultimate weapon bloomed in its centre. His hand grasped your own as he watched from the lab. Soon, everything would change forever.

☕️ When everything failed, it felt as if the world had ended for you, but no one else. Lysandre left to unknown status in the rubble of the laboratory as you were forced to live in the world that viewed him as a madman of horrid ideals. Team Flare was remarked a horrible stain on Kalos's already troubled history, and you were left alone and waiting for the day you may see Lysandre again. Desperately, you wished to believe him alive and out in the world. Until that day came, you would continue to hold on to his ideals in his stead.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Nearly all of his team supports what twisting of the truths he fed to them. Claims of making a better world were eaten up eagerly and believed almost unquestionably, even from his highest of commanders. Saturn had not a clue what his intentions for this new world were, and Mars and Jupiter especially did not. You, however, did. Not that Cyrus would have you involved in Team Galactic officially, but it was well understood you had authority that was only directly surpassed by the Galactic Boss himself.

☄️ You were well aware of his true intentions. He was not lying about creating a world he believed to be superior to this one, but it was nothing for Team Galactic. It was all for himself… And, you, too, he supposed. This world held suffering and strife due to how such an incomplete thing as spirit remains. Cyrus had spoken of these things to you in complete confidence that you would understand. There was still mild surprise on his part when you expressed agreement with his plans. Truthfully, a small amount of doubt had dwelled within him. The way you had cupped his cheeks and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips told him everything he needed to know.

☄️ You were kindred souls in a way. This world was a cruel and unkind place that was drowned in petty discourse and strife that simply seemed impossible to ever settle. While Cyrus knew not the details that had brought you to the point of wishing spirit gone just as he had, he silently acknowledged the suffering and pain you must have gone through. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was the thought of you in any kind of pain. His original plans had been to keep you ignorant and unaware of his actions, truthfully.

☄️ Ultimately, it helps put him at ease knowing you would unfaltering help him towards his ultimate goal. Cyrus being able to confide in you released some of the burden on him. Plans were more accurately discussed and considered while raking over books of Sinnoh's myths. He felt certain that everything would go to plan, as you both soon had found yourselves at Spear Pillar with the Red Chain in his possession. One look at you reminder him of his certainty as he forced forth both the legendary pokemon of Sinnoh.

☄️ When the dust had settled and Cyrus vanished into the Distortion World, you felt empty. Perhaps even emptier than he claimed to be. Cynthia had spoken to you afterward, attempting to find out more about what Cyrus was doing. She had told you he had chosen to stay in the dimension. You begged her to let you join him, but she simply refused, promising to help you in any way she could. Then, to even more of your upset, one of his commanders decided to make themselves boss of Team Galactic. You quickly quit, uninterested in anything else but Cyrus and his goals. Somehow, you would find your way to him and help him finish the world you both desired.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The Magma Leader had many supporters. His belief in bettering humanity by providing more land for resources was something noble. Scientists and trainers easily rallied under him as they worked tirelessly in the goal of awakening the super-ancient pokemon Groudon to do their bidding. You, as his partner, were naturally involved in his work. One of his admins, you helped him as he moved along the region to investigate possible leads. Your position was certainly high there, but not overly so as to be unfair to others.

🪨 Maxie was not at all shy about his plans. He and Archie breaking apart from how passionate and dedicated he was to them, even. You had likely heard them before most people had due to your closeness. It was hard to disagree with him. More land did seem like a reasonable way to solve numerous crises that would arise if they had not already. His confidence in his plans easily convinced you, too, alongside just wanting to support him.

🪨 His dedication and planning were something admirable in your eyes. The way he led Team Magma as a firm and capable leader was mostly what led you to support him, outside of finding his concerns about the bettering of humanity something noble. Maxie felt at ease to have your full support, especially when you voiced your utmost trust in him. He hated to consider the possibility of you turning against him and, yet it was something that crossed his mind many times before speaking with you about his plans.

🪨 It was often you aided in whatever research you could to figure out a way to awaken the legendary pokemon from its slumber. Many missions were worked with you at his side for ease of communication and improvisation where it may be required. Your unyielding support bolstered his confidence. It was not long until the Red Orb was in Team Magma's possession alongside a stolen submarine. Soon, he would depart to the seafloor to awaken the slumbering beast for his bidding. Your praises lauded him even deeper into his convictions.

🪨 With everything that followed revolving around Groudon's awakening and the endless drought it brought, you felt confused. Tabitha's subsequent demands and panic about the readings made you horrified at what you had helped bring about. Maxie himself in terror at the idea of mass extinction. When a child had to fix the horrible situation your team had done, there was more salt in your wounds. It was hard to accept all that had happened, but you were forced to. Maxie's goals subsequently shifted to something more reasonable as he changed the direction of Team Magma after it all ended. You remained at his side, still eager to nurture the better side of his ambitions.

🌧Archie🌊

��� Archie had a lot of people on his side. His charisma and genuineness, easily attracting many to his side and believing in his plans of awakening Kyogre to solve the problem that was causing him distress. It was almost impossible for him not have you involved in Team Aqua in some way. Even if you did not have an official title, being the leader's partner held enough authority in general. You did, however, being an admin like Shelly and Matt were. There was certainly some favouritism towards you, but not enough to really warrant any bad feelings among the members. Everyone did know to be respectful to you, though.

💧 The Aqua Leader had told you about his plans before he even had a firm grasp on his end goal. His worries about the ocean growing polluted and uninhabitable for the pokemon alongside just wishing to aid the creatures was something that came from a genuinely kind place. It ended up driving apart he and Maxie, so he leaned more on to you. His plans became solidified and seemingly reasonable enough. Kyogre would turn this world back to a pure state, something obviously needed. It was hard to tell him 'no', too. His smile far too convincing.

💧 Archie was pure hearted in his intentions. You felt it entirely. He hated how humanity had become apathetic to their own effects on this planet and wished to put an end to it to protect nature and pokemon. A certain sadness in his eyes reflected out the turmoil he felt from seeing cruelty that obviously haunted him. There was belief in you that it was kindness that drove him to, what must have seemed to an outsider, such extreme measures. Archie was comforted by the fact you understood his wishes truly, that he had so much support from you and his entire team.

💧 You were by his side through the thick and thin of his missions, aiding him where and when Matt and Shelly could not. Helping with the research into Kyogre late into the nights. Archie could not believe how lucky he was to have you as his partner. The solution of the Blue Orb was soon in your hands, and plans of securing a submarine brewing in the team's plans. He squeezed you into a tight hug as he thanked you endlessly for your support through of all of this. It would not be long until Kyogre's power purified this world.

💧 When the downpour began and Shelly panicked, you knew something was horribly wrong. When Archie re-emerged and was told of the imminent world flooding. All of you felt terrified about what had been unleashed. When a child somehow came to the world's rescue, you could watch the cogs turning in the Aqua Leader's head. After the storm died down and Kyogre was calmed, you could watch as he stood firm and took accountability for his actions. You felt your own responsibility, too, having so thoughtlessly supporting him. The restructuring of Team Aqua's purpose had your full support, and Archie shifting gears for his goals. Now, you felt more aware to call him out, too.

[angeygirl]

Ok with OP's blessing I'm going to go on a ramble about why I like TSE best as a stand alone, though I'll be honest this turned into a character analysis about William and Henry

Henry's characterization

Probably the biggest thing for me is how Henry is described. He's left as a blurry memory Charlie is hardly holding onto. Heck, he's not even given a physical description with exception to piercing dark eyes. I get they needed to leave him ambiguous so the plot twist that he was actually nowhere near as noble as Charlie thought could work, but I think they tried too hard to make him morally grey and just ruined how good of a foil to William he was. (more on that later)

In my experience, people never look at Fourth Closet Henry and say "woah that's a really interesting character arc" but usually say "you're dumb for seeing him as a good guy, he's terrible and you should feel bad for liking him". I'm also not a fan of the whole 'cracking perceptions' thing some stories do. I'd rather watch a character degrade in real time rather then find out after the fact

2. William's characterization

William/Dave has a really good character arc. It's told mostly out of order and with some pretty big pieces missing, but that gives the reader the chance to read between the lines. Was he always genuinely evil or did he try once upon a time before giving into the madness? What was the breaking point that lead him to commit so much violence? Charlie sees him as a sick stranger always left in the background, Carlton finds out he's actually a madman, Officer Burke remembers when he was so well-liked that he nearly got away with half a dozen murders.

Most importantly, William is still human. He's out of his mind with bloodthirst and only a scarred, half-starved version of what he used to be, but without the megalomania and immortality, he's still a human being. The way he's written in TFC retcons that humanity. One way I read TSE William is that he never had a family and through jealousy or otherwise took his chance to destroy as many other families as he could. For what? Well, he's evil, there's no debating that. But he's the kind of evil that still feels grounded in a way the series loses later on. What's the point of being so jealous of Henry's family that it drives him insane if he had a daughter and abused her?

And then of course you have the debate (?) of if William should have been written as abusive or not. I think it makes him more evil in a way that's less interesting. Again, it takes out his human motives. He's just cruel for that sake of it, having a family and not caring. The only reason he has to kill is for immortality. Now it's not that Remnant as a concept is a bad idea, it works and is pretty important to the lore at this point. and yes it does get foreshadowed in the first book, but it messes up an otherwise really well done villain, a villain who's interesting specifically for how much is left unsaid.

3. Henry and William as foils

As the trilogy goes on there's this idea that William and Henry are actually more similar then you'd think, but I don't think there's too many people out there who actually like this as opposed to people who want to yell at others for getting the characterizations wrong. Henry's "true colours" are used more or less as a 'gotcha' against people instead of a 'well it's more interesting this way' thing. Like I've seen people get really mean about it, and for what? Half the fandom doesn't read the books and half of the people who do choose to ignore them. Going back to what I said about William being human in TSE, making Henry and William similar later on makes Henry seem worse (morally) instead of either of them better (as characters).

The scene where Officer Burke is looking through the photos and realizes Dave Miller is William is really fascinating (to me at least). Throughout the whole book Henry is just a few scraps of memories but now we get to see things come into focus when we finally get an adult's POV. I'd like to draw your attention to one line in particular: "Afton was as robust and lively as Henry was withdrawn and shadowy."

Everything about Henry is described in a way to make him sound haunted and tired. "Dave" is sickly and bitter, but before that he acted as though everything was perfectly fine. They both suffered, but they handled it in opposite ways. Henry's response was to shut down and cave in on himself until the suffering got too heavy to handle. We don't know for sure what William went through, but Carlton figured he was "feeling more and more abused by the year" and "had spent so much of his life fighting like a cornered rat". William's struggles had been going on for a lifetime while Henry was hit with the tragedies in the span of only two years or so. The biggest thing in my eyes is how both of them solved their problems with death. William inflicted death on others and Henry inflicted it on himself.

4. Ending leaves minimal loose ends

Anyone who's played the games knows about Springtrap. Yes it would make sense for him to carry over into the book universe, but the narrative doesn't leave any indication of that in Silver Eyes. Officer Burke promises the animatronics will be taken care of and the Missing Children put to rest. Charlie goes to her father's grave and takes a moment to remember some silly mundane memory that she can still find comfort in. There's no reason to assume that Afton is still alive (to be fair he was half dead as Dave anyway). It's a bittersweet ending that really doesn't give the reader much to look forward to. If you didn't know it was a trilogy, would you even think there was a sequel? There's a pretty strong sense of conclusion in the ending chapter and no reason to dig it up again

Misc:

Sammy could have been the Puppet to parallel Charlie's game counterpart but the writing didn't go that way (can't remember for sure but is the Puppet even in the books?). Charlie-bot is why we have so many robo-kid theories now. Henry going mad could have worked, but why not make him try and fail to revive Sammy? Parts of the gang from TSE get dropped because there were too many character to keep track of. The Twisted One's comic designs are really bad actually (not relevant but I wanted to mention it). Circus Baby is possessed by a literal child why why why is she flirting with Carlton???

Uhh ok this was long but I've thought a lot about this book and this was the perfect chance to ramble. I might have gotten things wrong but y'know it's gonna happen (plz don't yell at me)

Finished silver eyes the other day btw. Love how nothing bad ever happens to them and how that’s the last book of the series :]

[weeinterpreter]

cruel.

[Part 1]

Holly huddled behind the dumpsters, drenched to the bone. Despite that, however, Holly didn't feel like her head would explode any minute. It was the smell; she knew. The smell of human blood that made her mouth water. The rain subdued the smells.

She had tried to fight it for weeks now. Ever since she had woken up in the hall of that madman, Artemis Fowl. He had... done something to her, but she didn't wait for him to explain himself. Having fled her prison, she had tried to fight off that urge to bite her family, friends, even strangers. Unwilling to accept that she was–

There were vegetarians out there, right? Hollywood made millions with that trope every year, she could make it work. She had bitten cows, rats, cats, and dogs, but the hunger only got stronger. Now, several weeks later, she wasn't sure if she could go on for much longer.

"I knew I smelled you," a familiar voice said.

Holly jerked her head up, glaring at the self-assured man she had been trying to get away from. He dropped a bundle to the ground and leaned against a wall.

"Let me guess 'My life is so unfair. Why does this happen to me? I have done nothing wrong ever'?"

"You turned me into a monster!"

Pushing himself off the wall, Artemis stepped closer and crouched down.

"And you can embrace this new life or you can huddle in the dirt like a rat. Your choice."

Holly gritted her teeth. "Why am I not satisfied by animal blood? It's what–"

"They show in the movies?" Artemis chuckled. "Don't believe everything you see on TV. There is no alternative. You need human blood to survive."

"But that's not fair," exclaimed Holly.

"C'est la vie," Artemis said with a shrug. "Did you think, life was fair? Sorry to break this to you, Miss Short, but bad things happen to good people."

"No," Holly shouted. "You happened to me!"

Artemis sighed.

"I had an inkling that you were one of those people. So, I figured I'll make the transition easier for you," he said, and motioned to the bundle he had dropped earlier.

"This man has killed several people, and he won't stop. He is what you'd call 'scum'. His death would be good, no?"

Holly shook her head, but said nothing.

"You could make a real difference in the world, Miss Short. My butler wasn't too ecstatic when I... accidentally turned him, either. But he'll never grow old, never get sick, he can take care of the people he loves forever. And cleanse the world of evil. Isn't that just splendid?"

The downpour had stopped, and the smell of the unconscious man made Holly's mouth water.

Artemis stepped back. "Don't thank me now, Miss Short. Come back in 100 years and bring some dinner, won't you?"

His chuckle echoed in the alleyway long after Holly had quenched her thirst.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 40

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your captor reveals what he wants with Bucky, and with you.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Witnessing past noncon (mildly graphic), psychological torture, isolation, captivity

AO3

Fear was a constant in the semi-darkness. Despite the man’s words that he would eventually let you go, you didn’t trust him an ounce. You remained hypervigilant, poised on the edge of flight, though you were more than ready to fight for your escape. It turned out, bond active or not, the thought of Bucky being used and enslaved was enough to move you to violence.

But between the dizzying seesaw of fear and anger, you were crushed with a deep sadness. You were worried about your mom noticing your absence. You worried about Monster being left alone, even though he was no ordinary cat and could fend for himself.

Most of all, you missed Bucky. You were grateful he was safe, even though hours before you’d been resentful of his situation. It had been a blessing in disguise, because no matter what he was out of reach of this madman.

But it didn’t mean you didn’t miss him terribly, and that you didn’t wish someone would hurry up and find you, wherever you were.

As you lay on the stone bench, you continually touched the marks on the wall, a reminder that Bucky had been there. It made you feel less alone, but it did nothing to ease the ache in your chest. You’d caught a glimpse of his life under HYDRA’s control, and you didn’t want to think about the things that might have occurred in this very cell.

You had time. Too much of it. Enough to play back the memories of the last three months and how they led you to this moment.

Bucky had been so reticent at the beginning. Distant, aloof and impenetrable wall you couldn’t climb. But you’d caught moments, glimpses past the armor into the man inside. Despite his grouchy demeanor, he’d been as lonely as you were. It had taken so long for him to let you past his walls, and it had been so worth it. Even the moments that would leave their scars, the memories that kept you up at night, it had been bearable with Bucky there.

Now, all you had was yourself. Alone in a prison that smelled of damp earth and forgotten things. At least… that’s what you thought.

You very carefully turned your head, trying to catch the thing you’d spotted earlier in the corner of the room. A flash of green, like the slitted pupils of a cat reflecting the harsh light from the single bulb overhead.

Heart leaping, you sat up and faced the darkness, about to call out Monster’s name… but then you shut your mouth. They were the wrong shade of green, and they were too high off the ground.

Not to mention Monster would never hide from you. No… this was something different. A second set of sickly green eyes you recognized.

“Did he tell you to watch me?” you asked, voice cracking painfully. You cleared it, and nudged the water pitcher with your sock-covered toe. “Make sure I don’t drown myself in this?”

The Alp didn’t respond except to blink its reflective eyes, not unlike the way Monster would when he was listening to you ramble on about your long day at work.

You frowned and chewed on the inside of your cheek. What did you know about this demon? You had assumed it was the same one that had attacked you on Halloween night, but Bucky had killed it, hadn’t he? Then again, you knew from experience that death wasn’t quite so permanent for demons.

Same demon or not, this one had abducted you at the man’s command. That much was true. And what you had also managed to recall just before you’d slipped into unconsciousness was the pained howls of the Alp being punished.

So, in conclusion, it was possible you had more in common with the Alp than you’d first realized. And from the way the man had been talking about wanting to enslave Bucky, it wasn’t a stretch to think this demon wasn’t a willing participant.

Okay. You could work with that.

“I don’t blame you for abducting me,” you said. “Maybe you didn’t even want to, but he made you. You didn’t have a choice.”

The demon said nothing, but it was no longer blinking.

You lowered your voice to a soft, understanding level, hoping the Alp would realize you weren’t the enemy.

“I know he hurt you. Punished you. Probably not for the first time, right?”

No response, but that was all right. The demon only had to listen.

“I can help you,” you whispered, leaning toward the bars. “There are sorcerers in New York, powerful ones who know all about demonic magic. They could free you from this man, or at least protect you. You could be free. We both could be free.”

You took a deep breath, putting all your sincerity into your words.

“All you have to do is get me out of there. Take me back. We could go to the Sanctum together, and—“

The demon finally reacted, or rather, it made a low, saddened noise that sounded suspiciously like a no. And then it vanished with a popping sound, black tendrils of smoke curling in the air where it had been, and then disappearing and leaving the faint but pungent scent of sulfur.

Sighing, you sat back against the wall and tried not to let the discouragement or the cold get to you. Your captor had slipped you a blanket between the bars, but it provided little warmth, metaphorical or otherwise.

You only had to hope you could survive long enough, either to be rescued or to escape. One thing was for certain: it would only be a matter of time until your abductor realized Bucky wasn’t coming.

***

It became a waiting game, one neither of you were going to win.

Time flowed in unpredictable lurches, but you could give a rough estimate from how often the man came back to the room with a pitcher of water and a tray of food. It was clearly prepackaged, maybe even from some kind of military ration, but you still ate it because you needed the energy and he wasn’t going to poison you. Not if he wanted Bucky to be caught in a trap with living bait.

If the man was feeding you three meals a day, then you’d been down here for a day and a half already. You would be missed by now. Strange would be searching for you, and while you didn’t know who this man was, you knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against the head sorcerer.

Or so you thought. On his eighth visit, he returned to the room and put down the folded chair. There was something in his hands. A book. Red, with a black pentagram on the cover.

Horror shot through your mind. You remembered that book: it had belonged to the Russian officer who had once enslaved Bucky. The Colonel. He’d been a high-ranking member of HYDRA, so how had this man gotten ahold of it?

“From your expression, you recognize this tome. But do you know what it is?”

The man, whose name you still didn’t know because he refused to give it to you, watched you with a patient smile. Almost as if you were a child he was teaching at his knee.

“No.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse, and it was a testament to your isolation that you were talking to him at all. But after being trapped in the semi-darkness, cold and alone, you were willing to talk to anyone. Even him.

“I do not know the book’s name,” he said, turning it over reverently in his hands. You noticed a thin, gold wedding band on one finger. He was married? “But I know its purpose. It’s an instruction manual, of sorts. A guide in all things demonic. It predates HYDRA, a stolen relic as many things were, and one must have proficient knowledge in Latin to read it.”

His voice was faint, far away as he mused, “A sacred text, written in a dead language, coveted by a doomed cult. There is a lesson to be learned there, I think.”

You let the man speak, the more he did the better it was for you. The last thing you wanted was for the effects of isolation to make you reveal something you shouldn’t.

“With this book, you will be freed.” He leaned forward, his soft voice taking on an eager quality. “Sergeant Barnes will no longer hold sway over you, but that’s not all I offer. With a new master, I can protect him from HYDRA, whatever little of them is left. Or I can protect him from the next group which attempts to use demons. There will always be men who lust for power wherever it resides, and your demon has quite a lot of it.”

You said nothing, resentful that he wasn’t wrong about Bucky in this regard.

“It was quite a journey to find the latest owner of this book,” he continued, apparently not discouraged by your lack of interaction. “It was in the hands of Colonel Vasily Karpov: Sergeant Barnes’ last master. He was in the Russian Armed Forces and one of HYDRA’s top men. Do you know where I found him?”

The man sneered distastefully.

“Cleveland.”

He looked down at the book and slowly shook his head.

“The man who enslaved and humiliated the demon you wish to protect was living not too far from your own home. I’m the one who found Karpov. I’m the one who killed him. Don’t you see? We are allies in this.”

A noise finally escaped you. A dismissive snort.

“You want to make Bucky your slave, and you have the nerve to think… what, that you’re his friend?”

“A friend? No. One does not make friends with a weapon.”

You looked away, grimacing in disgust.

“How are you any better than HYDRA?” you growled out.

“Because I will put Sergeant Barnes to a nobler purpose. He will not be used for cruel or evil intentions.”

“So you admit, you would use him.”

It was a terrible idea to engage with his dangerous man, to nurse his delusions, but you couldn’t stop yourself from letting him antagonize you, either.

He gave you a pitying look.

“Sergeant Barnes has been used his entire life, and the US Government was his first master. Drafted into the army, trained to be a sniper, he killed Nazis without compunction. Your sergeant has always been a killer; HYDRA simply unleashed him on their enemies. And I will unleash him onto mine.”

You opened your mouth, the urge to spit venom on the tip of your tongue… and then you shut it. Intentionally or not, he was revealing quite a lot of information, such as what he really wanted with Bucky.

“What kind of enemies?” you asked, tone carefully even. But the man merely stared at you, gave a small smile, and stood from his chair.

“I estimate that Sergeant Barnes should be here soon,” he said. “A demon master without its slave is vulnerable, and if the human inside him still exists and has compassion for you… then he will come even swifter.

“In the meantime…”

He approached the projector in the corner, and your stomach clenched, even as you weren’t sure why. His next words confirmed your instincts were right.

“I have something that will hopefully enlighten you.”

The man flicked a switch and the clicking of the old projector accompanied a square of light cast onto the wall. Distorted images from empty bits of film bubbled up onto the screen until it formed into a coherent picture. An image of the very room you were in, though the camera was facing toward the cell you currently occupied.

The image showed a horrific scene. A ring of men were surrounding someone, their boots and batons striking his curled body. You were sure the man must be dead after a beating like that, but once they stopped and backed away, the bruises and abrasions faded away… and your stomach sank as the man propped himself up.

You almost didn’t recognize him. His muscles were much leaner and less bulky, his face rounder and younger, his hair cut short. He was almost entirely human except for the demonic left arm and a smaller version of his current tail. The wings, the horns, his clawed feet and tapered ears—none of those existed yet.

“I can do this all day,” Bucky said, giving a smile stained red. He was entirely naked, stripped of his clothing, but he showed no signs of intimidation. Even through the tinny quality of the audio you recognized that stubborn tone of voice, and your heart ached at hearing him again, especially in such a dire situation.

“Good, Mister Barnes,” a voice responded from out of frame. His accent was heavily Russian, but he he spoke in English. “Because I am curious as to how much punishment your body can take before it runs out of its stored energy.”

Bucky cursed, and the man behind him laid him flat on the ground with a kick to his spine. Bucky wheezed and curled into a ball again as the men continued to beat him.

You were sure he was going to die. You knew he wouldn’t, but every instinct in you screamed to stop something had had happened over seventy years ago.

The man on the film was speaking as if documenting an experiment, noting Bucky’s healing ability as it slowed, leaving his wounds open and painful-looking.

“If you want to learn about demons,” Bucky cut him off with a snarl, “you can go to Hell.”

Pride surged in your chest. Bucky was a fighter, he would never give up—

The same man who had kicked him in the back now struck the side of Bucky’s head with a baton, and he collapsed hard. Bucky groaned on the ground, his claws digging into the concrete. It took you a moment to realize he wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Sufficient injury past the point of healing appears to drive the subject into heat,” the man behind the camera observed. “Note the expanded pupils giving the appearance of solid black eyes. Does pain turn you on now, Sergeant?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He only eyed the circle of men as they drew closer, and there was something other than wariness in his gaze.

“Turn it off,” you said, voice small and laden with horror. You didn’t want to watch. Didn’t want to see. You’d witnessed enough of Bucky’s humiliation without his consent. It wasn’t right.

“Not yet,” the man said. You couldn’t see his face, covered in shadow as he watched you watch the film. “Not until you truly understand.”

“And when the subject is in the throes of heat,” the cameraman continued, crackling from the old audio, “he produces pheromones that have a drastic effect on men near him.”

Bucky remained silent, glaring up at the men pulling closer. They rubbed themselves obscenely through their pants, clearly affected by the pheromones, but you doubted those pieces of shit needed much encouragement in that regard.

“Perhaps these fine men will assist you with what you need, if you ask them nicely, Sergeant.”

You could see it in Bucky’s eyes. How hard he fought, to resist the urges pulsing through him, and you knew the moment when he gave into them.

Bucky lurched to his knees, grabbed onto the nearest HYDRA soldier, and ripped open his pants.

You shut your eyes tight and turned your head away. If this bastard wanted you to watch, he’d have to force you to do that himself.

But he didn’t come into your cell and force you to watch, and unfortunately, you could still hear the sounds all too clearly. The heated grunts, the obscene wet noises that were uncannily familiar, in a way. You considered covering your ears, but leaving more of your senses blind with your captor wouldn’t be wise, either.

So you opened your eyes and stared at the floor, praying it would be over soon.

It wasn’t. The same man who was filming this torture, who seemed to be the man in charge, taunted Bucky. Mocked him that he wanted to be fucked by HYDRA soldiers until he was senseless.

He was their prisoner, helpless in so many ways, and still this man, whoever he was, chose to be even more cruel than he had to be.

“Who are you thinking of, Sergeant?” he eventually asked. “Your dear Captain, perhaps?”

You curled your hands next to your face, nearly covering your ears. You shouldn’t be hearing this, you shouldn’t!

There was an awful chuckle of laughter at however Bucky had reacted.

“You do hunger for your Captain?” the man continued. “Did he know what you were? Did he debase himself with you?”

You didn’t expect Bucky to answer; you’d seen him caught in the middle of a heat firsthand, and experienced something similar yourself and knew how difficult it was to think, let alone talk.

But he still managed to growl out, “F-fuck you… Lukin. Ste-Captain Rogers… never…”

“Perhaps we will send him a copy of this film: of you reduced to HYDRA’s whore,” the man called Lukin said, a sneer in his voice. “Do you think he would come for you knowing the things you think about him?”

Bucky’s voice was flat, defeated when he finally answered.

“No.”

The rapid clicking of the projector slowed to a crawl until it went silent.

“Do you see now?” your captor asked, his soft voice floating to you from the darkness. “Do you understand what I would be shielding him from? With Sergeant Barnes under my power, he will never suffer from such humiliation again.”

You said nothing and stared resolutely at the stone floor just before the bars. It gave you a decent peripheral view of the room without having to actually look at the man. You despised him. Hated him. More for him using Bucky’s pain to manipulate you than because of your own abduction.

“I won’t help you,” you finally answered, flat but final.

He sighed, taking the reel of film from the projector.

“You will,” he eventually said. “How uncomfortable you are in the process is up to you.”

The swing of the wooden door on its hinges left you in unbroken silence, but in that silence, you could still hear the terrible echoes of sharp gasps and pained whimpers.

Next Chapter

[the-tubbo-admisitration]

What happens in the base...

4

Sorry it's late

Wilbur was reading a letter, it was from the president of L'manburg, it was a cry for help. Wilbur really didn't want to believe what Techno had told him, but this letter cemented it in his mind. He'd known Schlatt a hell of a long time, he would never ask for help unless it was life or death. Tubbo must have really scared him.

He hadn't told Tommy why they were going, only that they had to. Techno had been told to stay and guard Pogtopia, Wilbur couldn't rule out that this might be a trap.

The plan was simple: sneak into L'manburg and discuss it with Schlatt on civil terms. In the event it was a trap, Wilbur could take Schlatt and Tommy was there in case he had Tubbo by his side. The plan had been thought out, Techno had scouted out all the exits and relayed that information back to him.

It was late at night when they set out, arriving at the border of L'manburg just in time, Tommy glanced up at Wilbur, worry in his eyes. "Are you sure Wilbur? It might be a trap."

"If it is a trap, then you might have to fight Tubbo."

"I don't wanna fight Tubbo!" Tommy squeaked, angry at even the idea of hurting his best friend. Wilbur sighed and shrugged, heading into the nation, towards Schlatt's office.

"Why are we even her-e…" Tommy trailed off, having spotted Tubbo standing there in his pajamas, staring up at the flag. He had his back to them but they had to be quiet, Wilbur took the lead, moving at silently as he possibly could.

Wilbur knew why it would be the worst possible thing if Tubbo spotted them, all Tommy knew was that Tubbo might sound the alarm, although he hoped he'd just ignore them. Luckily for them, Tubbo didn't seem to notice they were there- either that or he willingly ignored their presence.

Wilbur knocked on the door quietly, praying that this wasn't a trap. It took a few moments before the door was opened. Schlatt had huge bags under his eyes but he looked so very glad to see them, he gestured for them to come in. "Quickly quickly"

The office was a mess, papers and books everywhere, broken shards of ceramic on the ground, drops of blood were there too, Tommy didn't want to question it, although he figured the answer might have to do with the bandage on Schlatt's head.

Schlatt sighed. "I'm so sorry it's a mess, I had a bit of a fight with Tubbo and haven't been able to clean yet, I've barely left my room- god I'm a mess." He chuckled, sounding like a madman, Wilbur supposed Schlatt was.

Tommy felt his blood boil, why would Schlatt have taught with Tubbo? His buddy might be a little clingy but he's also small and soft- how cruel do you have to be to take things out on poor Tubbo? He clenched his fists, but Wilbur had told him to say quiet so he didn't say a word.

Back at the base, Techno wasn't really bothered about all that, if the kid was evil then the kid was evil. He wondered if he'd get to fight the kid- was he an orphan? Techno didn't know much about all this political business, but what he did know was potatoes. He worked on his farm quietly, knowing that he didn't need to guard since no one knew where Pogtopia even was.

He cut himself on his shovel by accident, seeing the face of the blood god in the drop that escaped. He wondered what his god's opinions on this situation would be, the blood god never showed its face lest it was prayed to.

He sighed and gathered up a lot of potatoes, taking it into the kitchen area to make dinner for everyone. He took great joy in peeling them, putting the peel in a bucket for later use- waste not want not after all.

He mashed the potatoes up with pure butter, adding just a little salt he'd strained himself. He hummed to himself, finding a lot more comfort in cooking his potatoes then he'd ever find in politics. He left them to warm while he worked on a type of gravy of his own design.

He threw the peel into a pot of water with some carrots and other veggies, he knew Wilbur and Tommy would complain had they no meat but he really didn't care, he just added some more butter to the gravy, using a vegetable stock he'd made at the start of the year, he carried a whole block of it around in case he needed to make a soup. He stirred the pot and sighed happily, he might be a feared warrior but moments like this made all the bloodshed seem like mundane work- he so much preferred peace and quiet to cheering crowds and screams of terror.

The soup was a lovely shade of brown, he tasted it and added the herbs and spices it needed, he was a surprisingly good cook it seemed, but then again he was a potato farmer, he'd know his way around cooking them. He added some mushrooms and onions, it was more of a gravy then a soup but he knew the lads would love it.

Tommy would mock him for being so soft but Techno knew the kid really appreciated it, he saw Tommy watching him cook more often then not and heard the questions he asked every five seconds. No one had ever taught Tommy to cook, Techno was considering offering once they got back from L'manburg.

If they got back.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Can you write a short dark fic for the pairing Joey x Henry, where after Henry threatens to leave the studio, Joey snaps and kidnaps Henry and turns Henry into a perfect Boris or Bendy so that Henry would never leave his side, please?

Summary: Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obcession.

---

[[MORE]]

When brought into the world children were never inherently cruel. They were curious and blunt, which often resulted in uncomfortable situations for those they interacted with, but overall younglings were empathetic at heart until reshaped and redefined into something otherwise.

The world was a terrible influence after all, and it could marr even the purest of things.

There were exceptions to this rule however…

Joey Drew had certainly been a curious kid. Unabashedly blunt too, with how often his innocent words cut deep into both his parents and peers.

But not once did he empathise enough with others to be considered a kind child.

If anything, most others his age had steered clear from his company, finding the mellow kid with the great big toothy smile to be unsettling on an instinctive level. Children were, after all, capable of sensing evil. Even in its stages of infancy.

So imagine everyone's surprise (Joey's included) when Henry Stein decided to befriend the town's most infamous little black sheep.

Kind bleeding heart that he was, Henry had thought it unfair that others would judge another as strongly as they judged Joey, so he'd taken it upon himself to make the kid next door's life a little less lonesome.

Give him what he surely needed: A good and caring friend.

Needless to say, he regretted that decision more than anything in the world...

It hadn't always been so bad. Once Joey had actually been a friend to him, and cared enough to look after Henry when he'd most needed.

Now however? Now Henry could barely recognize the monster behind that unnerving grin...

The burning selfish desires in those sapphire blues, hidden behind an half-lidded expression that was reserved to feign a serene and caring persona…

As charming and handsome as Joey looked (because he'd always been unnaturally pretty, even when going through the awkward stages of puberty), Henry couldn't help find his apathetic and selfish nature abominably hideous.

Especially now as he brought him the results of yet another failed experiment.

"I'm getting closer dear friend." He held the snapping, snarling little beast at arm's length, this failed mockery of Edgar barely looking like the adorable cartoon spider he was meant to be. "Soon I'll be able to make you perfect, and then we'll be back together as the dynamic duo we always were..."

Henry shuddered at the thought, tightly curling in on himself as he watched Joey end the poor creature's miserable existence. His bowl where his meals were served clattering loudly, as the inky heart of the slain critter was tossed onto it with precision. A mimicry of flesh thumping against the metal with a wet splat.

He fought back the urge to cry as he felt his mouth water.

"Eat up my loyal wolf… We can't be wasteful." Joey's cruel smile almost ruined his appetite. Almost. "Don't worry, this wasn't anyone you knew…"

With that said, Joey left him to greedily consume the offering.

Looking in the bowl's reflective surface once he'd licked it clean, Henry found that he could barely recognize himself anymore.

His stretched out face progressively becoming less and less humanoid as he was fed the experimental failures of Joey's horrid machine, and his pale hair having long since turned black and begun to spread.

He looked like what one would envision Boris the Wolf to look like in some lovecraftian fever dream. Dressed in ill-fitting ripped clothing, and barely able to balance a pair of cracked glasses on the bridge of his elongated nose.

An inhuman beast that fed off of the misfortune of others, losing his humanity as time passed on by.

He wondered if he'd forget himself eventually. If he'd forget that the devil in disguise that was Joey Drew was to blame for his malformations.

If one day he'd actually grow to love his captor in the same manner that Stolkholm syndrome victims tended to do, once brainwashed into submission by their abusers?

Another shudder forced a garbled whimper out of his deformed face.

To whatever god that could hear his broken pleas, he sure hoped not.

Henry didn't want to give Joey what he wanted.

Not when that monster of a man had taken him away from his family to keep as some sort of freak show pet.

Playing some sick version of house with the "puppy" he sustained on a cannibalistic diet. Disgusting.

Curling up, Henry cried himself to sleep. Thinking of his wife and children.

Missing them terribly while locked up in the bowels of Joey's demented studio.

-

The Ink Demon wasn't bad company, Henry had found. It seemed to understand his pain on a level no other creature did, offering him what little compassion it could whenever Joey dropped by with more "food".

It feared and loathed that devil of a man just as much as Henry did, and it knew to be kind despite never once being treated with the same sort of respect.

The one positive of this odd kinship between the two, was that Joey seemed pleased by them forming the sort of bond Bendy and Boris had. Thus never getting in between their interactions.

"One day soon, it'll all be just as I envisioned." He'd purr as he pinned the bound inky wolf to the ground, touching Henry in a way that made him want to gag, and rip the rat bastard's throat out with his horrific set of doggish teeth. "Just a little more and you'll be perfect."

He didn't want to be perfect.

All Henry wanted was to kill Joey Drew and go home.

"But first, I have a surprise for you." A surprise that came right after this twisted display of "affection". This gross invasion of the abominable wolf's personal bubble.

Joey presented him with an absolutely Perfect Boris.

Overalls, pie cut eyes, soft velvety fuzz and all… no signs of dripping or asymmetrical proportions.

The terror in those eyes however… it was all too human.

"I told you I'd find a way to reach perfection. Once I've finished tweaking the process you'll be just as perfect as him… Maybe more." Joey purred. "I miss your voice after all, dearest friend. Until then I give you this fearful pup to do with as you wish."

Upon his tormentor's departure, the cartoon wolf scrambled away from Henry. Shaking like a leaf and whining pitifully.

A child, Joey had converted a child…

Hell hath no fury like the righteous rage of a scorned father.

That bastard would pay for all he'd done!

But first, the large and deformed beast that was Henry Stein carefully scooted over to the shaking Boris clone and comforted him as best he could.

He'd protect this poor pup, no matter what.

The Ink Demon seemed to be in favour of extending that same grace, although it did still go for the kill when the less than agreeable ink monsters came around looking for trouble.

-

Buddy's transformation had certainly enraged him when Joey presented the poor boy to him. Sammy's and Norman's fates however were the last straw to break the camel's back.

Most of the people that worked at the studio were strangers to Henry, but the young musician and the oddball projectionist had been friends to him.

With every stranger's heart he consumed, the large beast of a wolf grew more and more restless. The revulsion he felt when looking upon Joey growing into an all consuming desire to violently murder his captor.

When a faceless ink creature wearing only suspenders and a Bendy mask came in one day to bring him his meal however…

"My lord wishes me to feed you, oh Great Lupine... Abyssal Hunger of the Ink's Abyss…" The body shape wasn't one he recognized. The slight arch to the creature's legs a bit strange to look at, and the four fingered hands an indication that something strange had definitely come to pass in this poor madman's transition into his current state. But that voice…

"Shhh...Shhaaammiieeee…?" His voice had returned as a dissonant mess, one that was not fit for a gross mockery of a muzzle like his own.

"Is… Is that my name, oh Hungry One?" There was both fear and hope in his voice. That in itself made something twinge painfully in Henry's chest. "I… Yes, yes that is my name isn't it? Sammy… I… oh thank you kindly, Benevolent Wolf. Please, feast upon your meal. I have worked hard to acquire it in the name of our Lord, your most wonderous companion."

What had Joey done to Sammy Lawrence, the proud music director that had more than half the mind this mindless drone had? Good heavens, what had he done that completely broke the poor kid?!

Rather than voice his horror, Henry did as he was told. After all the more he ate, the more his gluttonous appetite grew… as did this horrid body he was stuck with.

Abyssal hunger indeed…

He forgot what shame tasted like, but not mercy.

As selfish as it may be, he did request one thing.

"It is as you wish, oh Hungry One… I shall protect all pups that enter my lair." The Prophet bowed once, twice and then trice as he took Buddy by the hand. "Another horror skulks in the darkness, wearing an Angel's face. She hunts wolves, for fun. I shall show them your mercy."

He trusted that Sammy would keep his word. He was as stubborn as they could get, after all, and did not back off from a challenge very easily.

Henry would miss Buddy's company though.

That particular encounter was bad on a moral level, but it did turn out alright in the end. When the Projectionist was presented to him as a play thing however, Henry had begun to crack. No one deserves such a horrible fate as to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Norman had once carried a world of unimaginable knowledge on his back.

Now he only had the painful weight of a projector on his neck, and the volatile temper of a mindless beast.

The deformed wolf had done his best to gain the creature's trust, but it feared being attacked far too much to let a nearly 20 foot inky monstrosity near itself.

Self preservation hadn't completely left the Projectionist it seemed.

He'd let it go, hoping doing so would be a sign of good will on its own.

And then when he'd been once again left alone, Henry continued to stew in his anger. Talked himself into showing a rarer more violent side on Joey's next visit.

Even tried to fight back against him the next when he tried to touch him.

This was a losing battle however… After all, Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obsessions.

Henry Stein just so happened to be his biggest obsession. Even as this horrifically imperfect monster that only an equally horrific demon could ever hope to understand.

[therollingstonys]

Long Live the King

Edit: I forgot to add the link to the song that inspired this fic, so here you go!! 

Tony is fiddling in his workshop, trying to correct the aiming mechanism on the missile launcher he’s designed when the doors burst open, clanging against the cold stone wall and he jumps, startled at the sight of the normally unflappable Captain of the Kingsguard breathless and falling to his knees before Tony. 

His eyes are a stormy blue in the firelight, wide and dark, staring up at Tony, a hand pressed to his chest plate, sword at his hip.

“The king is dead, long live the king.”

Tony stares at him dumbly for a moment before rising and standing over the older man. “You’re sure?” he asks softly, lifting a brow. 

The Captain nods.

“I am my King. His heart is still in his breast and breath does not pass his lips.”

As he finishes speaking the bells in the castle and then the surrounding city begin to clang, marking the passing of King Howard Stark, Third of His Name, Lord of Manhattan and Ruler of the Three Kingdoms. 

They listen as the bells ring on and on and on....

“Rise Captain Rogers, we have much to do this evening,” Tony murmurs, watching as the older man rises to his feet smoothly, blonde hair gleaming gold in the light of the candles. 

He is so beautiful it makes Tony’s heart ache. He takes a step forward and then another, rises onto his toes and smiles when the Captain leans down to meet his kiss, a large hand sliding around his hip to hold him steady as they embrace. 

Footsteps on the flagstones send them apart, and when the members of the small council burst into the room Captain Rogers is on his knees again, head bowed in supplication to the new King.

The council joins him and Tony stares down at them, heart pounding. 

His plan worked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony kneels on the cold flagstones of the cathedral, head bowed, the warm steadying presence of his Captain just a few feet behind him. 

He does not pray because there are no gods, despite what the High Priests and his own beloved mother had tried to teach him—he has seen the world for what it is and knows that no loving god would leave his creations to suffer at the hands of a madman.

His father had once been a wise and tolerant ruler. Then Obadiah Stane had become his right hand, dripping poison into his ear, whispering lies and consolidating power for himself and King Howard had become unsteady, war hungry, cold and indifferent to the suffering of his people.

The attack by brigands resulting in the murder of his beloved mother had been the tipping point. They had been identified as Hydra assasins and the country had tipped into war, famine and disease. 

Tony watched as his country was weakened, bit by bit, until they stood upon the brink of ruination. 

When a man had sought audience with Tony and presented him with the evidence of Obadiah’s hand in his mother’s death, Tony had thought it an ill trick—till Captain Rogers had been summoned to lock the man away and had promptly fallen to his knees, weeping at the sight of his long lost brother, James. 

The man had been captured during the war with Hydra and had been tortured and magicked into compliance, used as a weapon to destroy the kingdom. 

James has spoken of a Red Witch, a woman who could create a potion that would put its subject into a deep and dreamless sleep. Captain Rogers had seen to it that he would be on guard over the king, that it would be his hand that would topple the potion into the King’s nightly glass of whiskey, that it would be he who held the pillow to his face and ended his cruel and tyrannical rule. 

Tony knows the Captain prays for forgiveness, that he grieves the murder he has committed, even as he knows it was necessary. He would not be the man Tony loves did he not. 

They will pass the night together here, in silent prayer, where his father’s body lays in waiting. The air is heavy with incense and myrrh, smoky and thick in the back of his throat and it reminds him unpleasantly of his mother’s funeral.

They did what was necessary—he only wishes he had done it sooner and saved his mother. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony kneels before the High Priest, head bowed as the holy oil is rubbed into his forehead. The crown, when it settles onto his brow, is heavy, laden with rubies and diamonds. 

He takes the sphere and scepter and rises, turns to face the Lords and Ladies assembled in the cathedral, gaze sweeping over them as they chant—Long Live the King! 

His gaze finds Obadiah in the crowd and he sees the jealousy and anger in his eyes, masked by his smile and traitorous mouth chanting along with the crowd. 

It matters little.

His end too is coming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They are in a council meeting, the day drawing to a close when Tony asks if there are any more matters to be brought before the king. 

Captain Rogers moves forward and kneels, “My king,” he murmurs, the adoration in his voice warm. “If it pleases the court I have a matter most dire.”

Tony lifts a brow, biting back a smirk at his beloved’s acting abilities. “Captain Rogers, rise and tell me this most dire matter.”

The Captain rises and rests his hand on the pommel of his sword, broad shoulders thrown back, blonde hair shining like spun gold and for a moment Tony sees him not like this—garbed in steel and gold, but in his bed, naked and flushed, moaning Tony’s name as Tony rides his cock. 

Clearing his throat, Tony lowers his gaze and sips his mead, then lifts his gaze and nods to the Captain. “Speak.” 

“My king, I have found troubling evidence that King Howard did not in fact die in his sleep but was murdered.”

There’s a moment of silence before the room erupts in chaos. Tony notes that Obadiah looks calm, large hands clasped together as he silently assesses Captain Rogers. 

“This is a serious crime you allege,” Tony murmurs, cutting through the chaos with a swipe of his hand. 

The Captain nods and lifts a hand, holds out an almost empty bottle that holds syrupy red liquid at the base. “Yes my King. This potion was discovered and assessed by our own healers. It is a potion designed to put a man so deeply asleep he would not wake were the earth cracking open around him. It would have been mixed into his Highnesses drink—the whiskey he took each night with his trusted advisor.”

The air in the room goes taut and Tony sees Obadiah sit up straighter, brows furrowing as the situation begins to reveal itself. 

“I would advise caution Captain—are you truly suggesting Lord Stane had something to do with my father’s death?” he asks carefully, leaning forward to study the Captain. “He has been loyal to the crown for many, many years, why would he murder his king?”

The Captain lifts his chin in defiance, icy rage pouring out his eyes and oh, how Tony wishes he could kiss him, shower him with praise for this magnificent playacting. 

“Because my King, he did not intend to stop with your father, he wished you dead too. With no heir it would fall to Lord Stane to rule till a suitable heir could be found.”

The Captain reaches into his belt pouch and produces the final piece of evidence which will secure the noose around Stane’s neck.

“This is a letter between the King of Hydra—Alexander Pierce—and Lord Stane, bargaining for control over the kingdom after the death of both you and your father.”

The Captain hands it to Tony with a subservient bow of his head and Tony lets his fingers brush delicately against the other man’s for a breath before he takes the scroll and studies it. He knows what’s written on it of course; his spy master, the Black Widow had produced enough evidence on Stane’s guilt that there would be no saving him from the hangman’s noose.

Turning slowly, he meets Obadiah’s nervous gaze, his own steely in return. 

“What say you Lord Stane? How do you answer these charges?”

Stane stares at him for a moment before sliding from his chair and falling to his knees with an obsequious pleading look on his worn face. “My King, I would never! I loved your father as a brother—I love you as if you were my own son!”

Tony studies him, head tilted to the side before rising, the lords of the council following in a clatter of chairs. “I believe my lord, that you love yourself more than you ever did my father or I.” His gaze is cold and cutting and he waves a hand at the Captain, “Lock him in the tower,” he commands before sweeping out of the room.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He visits Obadiah the night before his execution, standing over the kneeling man he had watched slowly destroy his kingdom for little more than power and money. 

Obadiah meets his gaze with a wry smile. “Stitched me up good eh Tony?” he says with a chuckle. “I won’t deny I had plans to kill you and your father, I just hadn’t gotten there quite yet,” he murmurs. “Which means it must have been you and you little pet, Captain Rogers.”

It’s little more than Tony expected—Stane is a smart man. 

Tony nods slowly, “Very good Obadiah,” he murmurs, smiling faintly. “Though it hardly matters now.” He stares at the older man and shakes his head, “I look forward to seeing you swing Stane.”

He pauses at the door and glances back, studying the man in the pale moonlight that slashes across the wall and floor—he is wan and exhausted, kneeling chained to the ground, but Tony feels no sympathy, feels little else but disdain. 

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, the iron door clanging shut behind him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stane swings and the people cheer, pelting his corpse with rotten food, stones and other, fouler things.

Tony shuts the window overlooking the city and turns away, leans into the embrace of his lover, eyes falling shut as Steve holds him. 

“You did the right thing my love, my king.”

Tony smiles tiredly and pulls away to look up at Steve, studying him. “You truly believe that, don’t you?” he asks softly. 

Steve nods solemnly, “Of course. Stane would have been the ruination of our country. He was responsible for the death of your mother, for the starvation and slaughter of her people. He was an evil man.”

Tony nods slowly and sighs, tired of these games and schemes. “Perhaps you are right. I fear you are too loyal for your own good Captain.”

Steve studies him for a moment and then falls to his knees in a smooth motion that takes Tony’s breath away. Shining blue eyes like the ocean stare up at him with adoration and his chest feels tight. 

“I would gladly slay a thousand men to protect you my King,” Steve murmurs intently. “I am yours to command.”

Tony lifts a shaking hand to cup Steve’s cheek, breathless when the man leans into it, lashes fluttering against his cheeks before he peers up at Tony through them, lips parting as Tony slips his thumb inside, and a breath pases between them before Steve’s lips close and he sucks. 

Tony switches his thumb out for two fingers, watching in breathless anticipation as Steve sucks on them with tiny moaning sounds, the wet sound of his fingers thrusting into Steve’s mouth lewd and arousing. 

He feels himself harden in his breeches and sees Steve’s cock grow, pushing against his tawny breeches, pulsing and leaving a steadily growing wet patch. His mouth waters and he tugs his fingers free, paints Steve’s cheek with his spit, moaning softly at the debauched sight before him. 

Cheeks pinked and lips red, Steve kneels, waiting for Tony to command him. 

“Shirt off.”

Steve hurries to comply, tossing it aside so his broad, muscular chest is exposed. Tony hums in pleasure and nods, “Undo your breeches, stroke yourself—slowly,” he orders. 

Steve does as ordered, moaning at the first stroke, eyes hooded and heavy on Tony. His throat is dry—he fumbles for the pitcher of mead and pours himself a goblet, sits heavily in his chair, legs spread wide as he watches Steve stroke himself.

Tony undoes his own laces and wraps a hand around his cock, gasping softly, hips jolting when Steve moans at the sight and strokes himself faster. Tony toys with himself lazily, letting the heat burn through him till Steve is rocking his hips and moaning constantly, sweat dripping down his torso as he approaches his release.

“Stop.”

With a high, pained moan, Steve’s hand falls from his cock, his whole body rocking forward as his desire demands touch, sensation. 

Tony tucks himself back into his breeches and rises to his feet unsteadily, swaying from mead and desire as he looms over Steve. Cupping his chin he lifts Steve’s head to meet his gaze and swallows a sound of pleasure at the sight of his beloved so golden with arousal it shines on his skin like the sun. 

“You’d stay like this if it I asked it of you, wouldn’t you?” he asks, aroused and amazed.

Steve nods lazily, “Anything for you my King, anything.”

“Even if I said you couldn’t come? Even if I wanted to use you for my own pleasure and stave off yours till it pleased me to allow it?”

Steve nods eagerly, leaning harder into Tony’s hand at his jaw, eyes hooded and hungry, so dark blue they look like storm clouds. 

“I am yours my King, my Tony. Yours...”

Tony swallows hard, the weight of what he’s being given settling into his belly like molten steel. 

“On the bed then,” he whispers hoarsely, “on your back.”

Steve hurries to comply, limbs uncoordinated and desire weakened. He is a large man; tall and broad and strong, but here, here he is not the Captain of the Kingsguard, here he is Steve—beloved of the King. 

Tony strips him of his breeches and removes his own, slicks his hands with oil and begins stroking Steve’s cock while his other hand pushes between broad thighs and against the furl of muscle there. 

Steve whines and arches into the touches, moaning Tony’s name as he is slickened, loosened and filled with Tony’s fingers. Each time Steve draws close to the edge Tony’s hands still, his gaze rapt on his lover as he moans and writhes, begging his King for more.

“Are you ready for me my love?” Tony croons, stroking Steve’s cock slowly so he can watch the man whimper and writhe, nodding desperately and begging Tony to take him. 

“Please Tony, My King, please, take me,” he gasps, hips arching desperately.

Tony himself is at the end of his rope, hands shaking with want. He nods and soothes Steve with a gentle hand on his thigh before he slicks himself and pulls his fingers from inside the other man, hushing him gently when he whines at the loss. 

Tony pushes Steve’s thighs wide and teases his hole with the head of his cock before pushing in with a low groan, cursing at the tight swell of heat around him. Steve moans and arches, crying out Tony’s name as he pushes deeper, filling him in agonizingly slow inches. 

Tony leans on one hand over Steve, nails scraping his skin as he begins to thrust, the heat in his belly roaring to life and demanding harder, faster. 

Steve cries out with each thrust—breathless gasps of Tony’s name, eyes wide with amazement and adoration. 

My king, my king...please, my king

Tony pinches one of Steve’s nipples almost viciously, reveling in the pained gasp it elicits; releases it and watches as Steve sinks into bliss, hips rocketing up as Tony thrusts, his unattended cock throbbing and spilling droplets down the reddened skin. 

Steve shudders under him with each of Tony’s increasingly desperate thrusts, cries growing high and wanton, body taut as a bow string, ready for release. 

Tony pinches Steve’s other nipple and reaches down with his free hand to stroke his cock and snarls out a demand, “Come now Steve, come for your king.”

Steve’s eyes roll back in his head as Tony thrusts recklessly, gasping as his own release crashes through him and then Steve is coming with a shout, cock painting his skin white, shudders running over his body in waves. 

Tony!

He clenches around Tony as his thrusts grow wild and erratic and Tony groans, half a sob on his lips as Steve’s release goes on and on, rippling through his large frame in devastating waves. 

Steve! 

Tony spills inside Steve with low broken moans and shudders as his hole clenches around his cock, the sensation too pleasurable, bordering on painful and he thrusts a few more times till it is painful and then withdraws carefully, collapsing beside Steve with a gust of breath. 

As the air cools the cum and sweat on their skin, Steve rolls to his side and stares intently at Tony, one large hand splaying over Tony’s heart. 

“It belongs to you,” Tony whispers, laying his own hand over Steve’s. 

Steve nods and lifts Tony’s hand to press against his chest, feel the steady beating of his heart beneath his broad chest. 

“As does mine. You have my heart, my body, my love,” he murmurs, “I am yours Tony, my King, my love.”

As Tony rolls into his side and kisses Steve he hears the cries rise up in the city as the food stores are passed out to the hungry and the sick are tended by the best healers. 

Long Live the King!

It will take time to undo what Stane and his father have done. 

Long Live the King!

He watches as Steve falls asleep, lashes burnished bronze in the candlelight, skin like golden marble, more beautiful than the finest sculptor could imagine. 

Long Live the King!

It doesn’t matter how long it takes, so long as his Captain is by his side, in battle, in bed, in every move he makes to secure his kingdom and keep his people safe. 

Long Live the King!

He will do what is necessary. 

Long Live the King!

What is hard. 

Long Live the King!

What is right. 

Long Live the King!

[avionvadion]

Forest Deep: a fanfic mixing Secret of the Cursed Mask and the actual Inuyasha anime itself. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115702/chapters/58056064

Summary: Naraku had one goal- to destroy Inuyasha. Now with his new companion he has an idea how to make that happen. Brought to the Feudal Era by an unwanted Summoning, Irene's in search of her older sister and the one who brought them there. With the help of her new friends she might just find them, but it's hard getting through battles- nonetheless the day- with her lung problems. Why is this Naraku so cruel? What does he gain from hurting people? Who is his new friend- and what's underneath that mask she wears? Irene doesn't know. But she'll find out- one way or another. She just wished she had her sister beside her as she did it.

The first drawing is basically the story cover. I drew it back before Irene’s hair had a consistency and I had a better grasp of the art style XD The second image is from the end of chapter 20 and the last one is for chapter 15. 

Story: 

"I-It's…" Oh gods. "It's a saying where I'm from. Just- Just ignore it. I speak nonsense. Um. Look. You don't want to stay here, right? I don't want to stay here either. I have a sister I gotta make sure ain't dead, some friends to get back- granted… they probably don't want anything to do with me anymore, and an evil half-demon to stop, so~!" I huffed and stood, brushing some dirt off my pale blue jeans. I walked over, holding a shaky hand out to her with a grin. "You can come with or you can stay here and go crazy! Your choice."

Her eyebrows knit together. "For what reason did you desire the Magatama fruit? Most here are… filled with greed. They want its power for themselves. I, too, was selfish and… it brought me here."

"It…" I hesitated. Memories of the villagers falling came to mind. "I… I need the fruit to break a barrier. If the barrier doesn't break then… more people are gonna die. And… I don't want to see that happen."

"That's sounds awful…" Shizuno said, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "A-Are you certain that it's not another lie someone told? You could have fallen into a trap."

"I mean, probably?" I made a face, moving my head to the side and shaking it, shrugging my shoulders. "Buuut I have no reason to distrust him, you know? I-It's weird. Like, yeah he can be pretty shady when he wants to be, but he's helped me out this far and it's because of him I can talk to Shikigami spirits and heal people. So! I think he's nice. He did mention that this would be really dangerous and I was a firm believer I wouldn't survive. Was that a lie? Nope. Here we are! In a magical space surrounded by a bunch of crazy people."

"You are…" She frowned. "...strange. You speak of dire circumstances, yet you smile so brightly. Why do you behave so casually?"

"I just do." I was still so tired. "Life just sucks. That's how it works. No use mopin' about."

Unless of course several people had died. Damn it. I can still hear their screams, the children calling out for their parents as they ran for their lives. The blood splattering onto the ground… and staining Kohaku's kusarigama.

"Anyway! You never answered my question. You comin' with me?" I stretched out my fingers and wiggled them at her, staring at her expectantly. "You know you waaaant tooooo~! Far over the misty mountains cold~ to dungeons deep and caverns old!" My voice cracked and I coughed, hacking into my sleeve. My voice really could not go low. It was so distressing. The woman gave me such a strange look, but she reached out and took my hand. I felt so lightheaded. "Oh? Yay!"

She shook her head at me, folding her hands close to her chest. "We could be trapped here in eternal suffering," Shizuno told me, "yet you sing? Why?"

"Because if we're gonna be suffering eternally," I declared, holding an index finger up wisely, "we might as well have fun with it. Sadly I don't remember all the lyrics, but! It's a good song." I approached the mountain wall, staring up and squinting my eyes as I tried to gauge how far up we would have to climb before we reached the next ledge. My hands were all scraped up. "Okay… calm down. We can do this. You up for the climb?"

"Y-Yes, I suppose… what about you?" She stared at me, frowning. "Your skin is quite pale…"

"I'll be fine." I had to be. "My… My friends are waiting for me."

If they even still thought of me as one.

"And… your sister?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't even sure she was alive. "If I don't get that Magatama fruit… more people are gonna die. I… I don't want her to be one of them." I looked back at Shizuno, forcing another closed-eye grin, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. I had to be strong- for her. She was in pain as well. Her entire village was destroyed. "So we gotta keep going. Up and at 'em!"

I cracked my knuckles and reached up, grabbing onto a root sticking out from one of the rocks. This part of the wall was covered with vines, but there was no telling if they could all hold. Shizuno followed behind me uncertainly, grabbing onto a rock and climbing. "Th-This is very dangerous!"

Well, obviously. But I was convinced that we couldn't quite… die here? I've seen so many people wandering around and not one skeleton. At least there weren't any demons nearby in this spirit realm that could eat us. I don't think I'd taste very good. Ick. My mind flashed back to the mansion and I cringed, temporarily halting in my climb. Don't freak out. I had to stay calm. This is fine.

I'm fine. Always. Always fine.

I may be slowly breaking apart, but I'm fine. It's how I am.

This is just life.

It's my fault those villagers are dead, so I have to avenge them. Don't I?

Suddenly the vines I was climbing broke and I let out a small shriek, falling back towards the ledge below. The wind around me picked up pace and suddenly my descent slowed, causing me to blink. Then once I was close enough to the ground it stopped and I hit my head, crashing hard onto my back. "O-Ow! Frick!" I cringed and curled onto my side, bringing my hands up to the back of my aching skull. It was being put through so much abuse today. "Dude, that hurt!"

"A-Are you alright!?" Shizuno called down. She was at least thirty feet above me, clinging tight to some vines. "The wind just- how on earth-!?"

"Spirits." I hissed, wincing at the bump that was definitely going to be there for a while. The wind helped enough for me not to die, but wasn't completely forgiving to leave me free of injury. "Eugh…" That seriously hurt, but at least it wasn't fatal. This proved that one of my theories were right. Kazumi would have us wander forever in insanity, but she would not have us kill ourselves. "Frick."

I stumbled, wobbling over to the wall and leaning against it for a moment until my vision cleared. The world was trying to spin on me.

"Need to… keep going." I wheezed. This air spirit guardian person was such a sadist. "Have to… save them…"

My fingers gripped weakly at the roots. I wouldn't be able to climb in this state.

"Naraku… must be… stopped…"

I'm so dizzy. My forehead pressed against the rocky mountain side, eyes closing as I waited to catch my breath. That scared the crap out of me- falling like that. I hated it. After a few long minutes I grabbed at the vines again, fingers feeling numb and tingly, and I kicked at the wall with my bare feet. Being weak is one thing, but being stubborn was another. I was determined.

"I will… defeat him…" I wheezed, reaching up and grasping tiredly at a rock jutting out. It crumbled and I had to go for one higher up, stretching my arm painfully. "Barrier… it will break…"

Naraku sent Kohaku and Kanna after me, and why? Because Anastasia wanted my soul for some god awful reason that still wasn't explained. He made them attack the villagers that were helping me, and if Kagome didn't crack the mirror and force the souls to be freed so many more would already be dead. They tried to help me and Naraku forced Kohaku to kill them because of that. He was awful.

He was more of a madman than anyone else in this place.

The air around me seemed to grow gentler, my body becoming lighter and moving a bit faster. It was almost as if it was giving me a boost, but I knew that couldn't be the case. It was so aggressive earlier. After what surely must have been an hour I reached the ledge I fell from, reuniting with Shizuno who watched as I fell onto my front, eyes closed and breath heavy. "You are not the most healthy person, are you?" She asked.

"I wonder what… gave you that idea?" I wheezed, the sarcasm dripping off my tongue. "I told you… sickly human… didn't I?"

She gave a small smile, almost amused by my weird ways. "You did. Will you be able to make it to the top? There is still quite a ways to go."

"Yeah, just… need to… rest a bit first. Is that okay… with you?"

Shizuno nodded. "Yes… we have all of eternity, after all. Time does not seem to pass in this place. I have seen many arrive here, yet… they never aged. It is rather concerning, but there is nothing we can do. I fear many years have already passed since I was first brought here."

Wait, what? Oh no. My eyes widened and I sat up, looking at her in alarm and ignoring the rapid pounding of my heart. "N-No way… no, no, no! We… We have to hurry! I-I can't-!" I can't be trapped here forever. I have to get that fruit as fast as possible. If Maria was still alive then I can't be left behind. "The mountain! W-We have to… to climb…!"

I stumbled over, dazed and desperate, grabbing at the roots and struggling to climb. Shizuno dashed over and caught me when I fell, startled when she felt the heat radiating from my body. "I-Irene! You are feverish!"

"M'fine." I mumbled. "Have to get… to Sango…"

She, Miroku, Shippō, and Kirara are all up there dealing with the air spirit alone.

"Don't wanna see 'em hurt…"

I'm so sleepy. I want to take a nap.

"Gotta beat Naraku… and his dumb barrier thing…"

"Rest first. We have time." She said softly, voice so soothing. Shizuno carefully moved me away from the wall, keeping her arms around my waist, setting me down on the ground beside her. My head fell against her chest and my eyes closed, giving in to the comfort she gave. A hug felt so nice right now… yet her body was so cold. Her fingers ran gently along my hair, fiddling with the short strands. "You are fighting so strongly right now, are you not? It must be hard…"

"S'not… just… hurts."

"Why do you want to fight this Naraku so bad?"

"He hurts… people." I told her quietly, finding myself being lulled to sleep by her gentle touch. "They… helped me a-and he… killed them."

"He did?"

I nodded, making a small noise of confirmation. "He had… Sango's younger brother… attack. H-He's controlled by him, so he can't… fight back. She's always crying when she… has to face him. I don't like it. She's so much better… when she's happy…"

"I see. So Naraku is the one to blame."

Yes. He made Kohaku hurt them. It was all that evil half-demon's fault that the villagers are dead. "Naraku… killed them…"

"If that is so… then you should be able to climb the mountain now."

"...What?" My eyes slowly opened and I blinked, turning my head to look tiredly at Shizuno.

Her features seemed to change as the wind around us blew stronger, her long black hair shifting into something shorter and more white in color. I yanked myself off of her lap, watching as her colorful kimono become a pale blue, a white cloth draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her arms. As I stumbled into an upright stance, standing and backing away slowly, her dark eyes became an icy blue, lips dark and almost purple in color. I hadn't seen her entire appearance before, but I was certain now as to why Shizuno looked so familiar.

"K-Kazumi?"

…

"Where did she go!?" Sango demanded, whirling around to try and locate where the air spirit disappeared to. They were just talking when the mist became stronger, the entire area around them being covered in fog. The demon slayer couldn't see five feet in front of her. "Miroku! Shippō!"

"Here!" The fox demon informed, about ten feet back.

"I'm over here!" The monk shouted somewhere from her left side, sweeping at the area around him with his staff. "I'd use my Wind Tunnel to suck in this mess, but I might anger the spirits further if I did and cost Irene her life! Sango, what should we do!?"

"I-I don't know!" For once the demon slayer was at a loss. There was no enemy to fight, no goddess to appease. Only a spirit set on challenging their friend to a test of truth. "I… never realized she felt so guilty for what had happened…" Sango said after a moment, looking down at the hiraikotsu in her hand, closing her eyes with a pained expression. "I was only focused on myself. Miroku, I…" She rested a hand over her face, ashamed. "I'm a terrible friend."

"No, Sango, don't blame yourself." The monk shook his head. "I, too, did not notice. I was believing us to finally be able to close the gap and become proper allies, and yet…"

"She's always blaming herself!" Shippō stated, frowning deeply. He appeared greatly bothered. "Irene has such a guilt-complex for some reason! I don't get it! She's always apologizing for every little thing, no matter how small it is! Inuyasha was always yelling at her for it!"

"I-I thought she was just shy." Sango admitted. "But… I guess there's more to it. What do you think, Miroku?"

"Anything could have caused it." He informed them, something unsettling forming in his stomach. The monk always had been unable to refuse helping a young woman in need and the one in trouble now was a friend. Yet how could they protect her if they didn't even know what was wrong? If they couldn't even reach her where she was now? Why did Irene feel the need to place the blame on herself? "I'm afraid we'll just have to ask and pray she will tell us when she returns."

"I hope so…"

…

"H-How did you-!?" I pointed at her, dumbfounded, then gestured to where the brunette used to be. "Sh-She was just- hah? Gah! Shapeshifter!"

I took several more steps back. The woman's expression became blank once more, resembling more of the air spirit I had met earlier. "She was nothing more than an illusion. I created her as a guide, just as I have done time-and-again for those who come up this mountain. A rare few have ever been able to accept their truth and continue forth up the mountain. They were always too trapped in their greed, their selfishness… and would never think twice about abandoning someone else if it meant reaching their own goal."

What is she saying? I don't understand. My head hurts so much from this; I was still so dazed.

Kazumi closed her eyes, opening them only when her purple lips tilted upwards into a smile. "You have passed my test, Irene. You have accepted that Naraku was the one to blame for the villagers deaths. The children did not die because of you. I have seen into your mind… I know what you saw. I know how you felt. With this test I was able to attune your heart and I have come to the decision that you are indeed worthy… of a Magatama fruit."

"But… I literally didn't do anything?" I don't get it. I'm too dizzy for all this. "I just climbed a mountain…"

The air spirit looked amused by this and went on to explain. "Though they scared you, you tried to approach those wandering souls and save them. When you saw the apparition I created… you tried to give her the courage to go on. Though… unorthodox in the way it was done… you remained strong for her for as long as you could. But you are only human- and one who is prone to illness cannot keep on for long." She glanced up at the mountain, icy eyes following the path up. "The wind will help you on your climb up the rest of the mountain. You need not fear falling; now that your mind is clear of guilt… the roots and rocks along the cliff will not break."

I'm still so confused, but alright. "Um, thank you…?"

"Do not thank me just yet." She warned. "If you so much as waver in your thoughts you will fall once more down to the bottom, and your soul will wander here for all eternity like the rest." Kazumi waved her arm and then she was gone, replaced by nothing but more fog.

My eyebrows raised and I shook my head incredulously, unable to believe the audacity some spirits could have. Like, seriously? Jeez. Crazy lady. She was so much nicer as Shizuno. At least she was giving me some advice… kind of. Was this all because I blamed myself for what happened with Kohaku?

That's what I'm getting from that conversation anyway. Ugh, I have such a migraine. I want to go home.

I need another hug.

I walked over and grabbed at the roots, hands shaking. They didn't feel as weak and numb as before, but they were bleeding. I had scraped them up quite badly during my climb. That strange feeling appeared again as I tried to move up the mountain, like the wind was giving me a boost. I supposed it actually was doing that, as it was helping me move a lot faster than before. I reached the next ledge in record time.

I tried not to think too much, focusing on the task at hand, determined not to fall below.

My heart wanted to waver, to believe that the children's deaths were my fault, that everyone who died should have blamed me, but… Shizuno's words stuck. They may have been protecting me, but it was by Naraku ordering Kohaku that they were killed. I had no control over the boy's actions. It was not my fault.

It was his.

The fog slowly cleared away the closer I got to the top and the people wandering around had vanished. I huffed and trembled, feet and hands scratched up and blistered, legs and arms sore. If not for the wind pushing me up- as if trying to say hurry up, stupid human like an irritable spirit- I would have collapsed long ago. I dragged myself up to the top ledge where I had been thrown off when I first met the guardian spirit Kazumi, struggling to push myself forward, and wound up clawing at the ground.

My poor fingertips were all bloody.

"I-Irene!?" I recognized that voice. I fell on the ground and rolled onto my back, wheezing and letting out a few coughs. I was so exhausted. "Oh, thank god! Miroku, Shippō, look!"

"Irene is back!"

"She passed the test!"

I could see the group dash over to me, Sango quickly kneeling by my side and helping me sit up. I began to tear up at the sight of her. Wasn't she mad at me? "Irene, you're burning up again! How badly did you stress yourself out!?" She asked, voice almost going into a sisterly scolding tone before relief crossed her face. "I'm so glad you're back…"

She surprised me by leaning down, wrapping her arms around me tightly."I should have paid more attention to your feelings. I'm so sorry."

"I-It's okay." I choked out, awkwardly hugging her with my arms so not to get blood on her armor. I'm such an idiot. They didn't hate me after all. "I-I'm fine. You're the one who was upset, so…"

"But so were you!" She pulled away, gripping my shoulders tightly with her hands. "All this time you've been festering hate and guilt inside of you- and for yourself no less! Ever since I've met you you've been apologizing left-and-right for things you had no control over! Irene, it's okay to be selfish! Not everything is your fault!"

I couldn't speak, too stunned by what was happening. This day was so dizzying. "I-I just… want to help." I finally got out, stuttering on my words. Her eyes were so intense; it felt like they were boring into my soul. "I-I can't do anything useful, so…"

"What do you mean by that?" Miroku demanded, stepping up. Kazumi was still nowhere in sight. "You've helped us countless times; we've told you before. Just who told you that you were useless? That made you believe you could guilt yourself for everything?"

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

I THINK I MANAGED TO ACCIDENTALLY PRESS THE BACK KEY REPEATEDLY OR SOMETHING BUT LIKE TWO PARAGRAPHS OF WRITING ARE GONE AND IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME TO CTRL+Z BACK INTO EXISTENCE BUT NOW MY PROGRAM CRASHED SO I DON'T EVEN HAVE THAT ANYMORE IT'S ALL GONE PLEASE JUST KILL ME NOW

[twistedtummies2]

31 Days of Disney Villainy - Number 21

The 31 Days of Disney Villainy Continues! I’m counting down my Top 31 Favorite Villains from Walt Disney Animation Studios’ film output. Today’s diabolical dastard is a Contender for the Most Evil Smile Award. Number 21 is…The Coachman, from Pinocchio.

(points to included image) See what I mean? The interesting thing about Pinocchio is that a large majority of characters in the cast are villains, and ALL of them have their own little followings. Throughout the film, Pinocchio’s adventures have him run through quite the gauntlet of crooks and creeps; his wellbeing, his very EXISTENCE, is in constant jeopardy. First, there’s Honest John & Gideon – the conniving Fox and Cat who thrust Pinocchio into certain danger, all for cash, TWICE. You could argue they’re the main antagonists of the picture, if only because of their screentime and the way they drive Pinocchio towards his doom more than once. They’re also probably the ones who are marketed the most. Second, there’s Stromboli – the greedy puppeteer who basically kidnaps Pinocchio and flat out tells him that, when he’s too old or tired to work, he’ll be chopped up and made into firewood, laughing like a madman while he does it. He is arguably the most popular of the villains in the picture; he’s the one I hear mentioned the most when people talk about great Disney Villains. In the final act, there’s Monstro the Whale; some would argue his canonical status as a Disney Villain, but I definitely say this man-eating monster counts. He’s probably my SECOND favorite of the villains in the movie, for personal reasons. (For those of you on Tumblr, you can guess what those reasons are.) However, if I had to pick one villain who I felt was most impactful…it’s got to be the Coachman. The unnamed Coachman is, in my opinion, the scariest and most disturbing character in the movie…which I suppose is fitting, since he’s based on arguably the scariest and most disturbing character from the original Carlo Collodi stories. (That’s saying a LOT, by the way, if you actually give those a read.) The Coachman is the Master of Pleasure Island: a mysterious amusement park where bad kids go to basically do what bad kids do. They wrestle, they vandalize things freely, they smoke cigars, they drink alcohol, they play pool (…okay, that’s not so naughty, to be honest, but I guess the rest evens it all out…), they can basically wreak havoc to their hearts content, all while playing hooky from school. Right from the word go, however, we know this place is bad news. When Honest John – who has no apparent qualms with committing murder, by the way – hears its name mentioned, he is TERRIFIED…and his terror only rises when, after expressing worry about the police finding out, the Coachman responds in this reassuring manner: Keep in mind, most of the time, the Coachman doesn’t look that frightening. He’s a portly, round-faced guy with silver hair who almost looks like a someone’s kind old uncle. He chuckles and waves off the concern as he says to Honest John: “Oh, no, no, there’s no risk! They never come back…AS BOYS!” And it’s on those last two words when…(points to picture again)…THAT happens. And thousands of nightmares were fueled. If you know Pinocchio, then you KNOW what happens to the kids on Pleasure Island, and it’s…well…if you don’t know, go and find out. What am I, SparkNotes? :P If all that wasn’t scary enough, here’s something you may not have thought of that will make things even scarier: the Coachman NEVER gets punished for his wicked deeds. In fact, nearly none of the villains do! Honest John & Gideon get paid, and apparently there was going to be a scene where the police catch them, but it was deleted before ever getting properly animated. Since that doesn’t happen, we can only presume they’re still at large! Similarly, yes, Pinocchio escapes Stromboli, but as far as we know there was no real RETRIBUTION for his cruel antics, unless you count obvious impending frustration. The only one who gets any kind of punishment, really, is Monstro, and it is left ambiguous whether he dies or is simply stunned/knocked senseless at the end of his time in the story. The Coachman, however, is almost undeniably the most evil and downright DEMONIC of all the villains in the story, and is responsible for some of the darkest scenes in the film…and never once gets any sort of comeuppance. In fact, he’s so dark, I think Disney itself is kind of scared of him. He’s easily the most underrated and forgotten villain in the picture; there’s not much merchandise or outside use of him when compared to Monstro or Honest John & Gideon, and unlike Stromboli (who was voiced by the same actor, Charles Judels, in case you didn’t know), the Coachman is not a character I hear mentioned frequently when people talk about the greatest Disney Villains ever known. Perhaps that’s why I like him so much: as the darkest sort of underdog, he’s a villain I find absolutely fascinating. Tomorrow, we move into the Top 20! The countdown continues with my 20th Favorite Disney Villain! HINT: “Let’s get down to business…you complete the line!”

[inhumanmadman]

[ I had a dream where Maximus and Namor had a baby...This is going to be a long post.

Namor and Maximus would hook up occasionally, like have quickies, and Namor would hurt him, not on purpose but because he simply didn’t care to be careful with him. Something about seeing him during their Cabal days and thinking he was evil. Because Namor didn’t do evil shit during those days or anything.

Black Bolt caught them when Namor fractured Maximus’s pelvis. You thought I meant he was tearing him, didn’t you? No, he was using his Atlantean strength on that royal ass. Of course, that’s really painful, so Maximus was suffering. He had tears, poor madman. It was then that Maximus realized how Namor felt about him, and that was upsetting to him because the Cabal wasn’t his idea. Black Bolt banned Namor from New Attilan and conveyed that his presence would mean war. Then, he tossed him back into the ocean. Like, literally.

Vengeful, Maximus somehow scienced a baby from Namor’s sperm and his...sperm? He built an artificial womb and let it grow inside of him, because why not, I guess.

Black Bolt was the first to notice that Maximus was eating more and his stomach was getting rounder. Suspicious, he told Medusa, and she went marching into his workshop with Crystal, Triton, and Karnak to see for herself. The two mothers confirmed it. He was definitely somehow pregnant. Maximus’s excuse was basically, “It must be part of my terrigenesis. shrug emoji” Medusa and Crystal went into baby care mode. No more eating in the workshop. Extra food during meals. Servants constantly at his service. Things like that.

Randomly, in that moment, Maximus told Triton the child would likely breathe underwater. Triton liked that, I guess. Another waterbreather.

Karnak thought to ask who the father was, and, while Black Bolt wanted the obvious answer to remain a secret, Maximus straight up told everyone it was Namor and bragged about how the baby was a full-blooded royal. Black Bolt immediately went into DO NOT TELL THE BASTARD mode. He warned everyone that, if Namor came to New Attilan, Black Bolt would declare war. Nobody hurts his baby brother and gets to see their own child...

Somewhere along the way, they were all standing in the Main Hall, and Maximus, about to pop, asks who is going to raise his son. Everyone gets awkward because they hadn’t told him they were planning to take the baby away. Maximus was cheerful as always while acknowledging he was too mad and cruel to raise a son. He even mentioned how much he liked Luna, but he would still use her. Somehow, that lightened the mood and the discussion started. Black Bolt and Medusa were ready to raise the baby, but Maximus refused. He told them he wanted Triton to raise his son because of his affinity for water.

It was only then that Karnak, the only non-oblivious member of the family was like, “Are we ignoring that he’s finally sexed the baby?” Celebrations were had. A prince was going to be born.

Eventually, it was agreed upon that Triton was going to raise the baby. Triton wouldn’t stand up for himself, but he really wanted a baby. And he’s a good person. So it was decided, after Maximus made Triton’s desires public, he would make a great father to Namor’s water bug.

The day finally came when Black Bolt walked into Maximus’s workshop to find him giving himself a c-section, the absolute idiot. He was red and sweating from the pain and enduring the trauma of basically disemboweling himself. He was just in time, though, and Maximus told him it was safe to remove the baby. So Black Bolt did. He grasped his nephew in his hands and pulled him out into the world. But something was wrong.

I remember Maximus’s specific words. “He’s only a quarter Atlantean, he shouldn’t be blue.” My heart.

Blackagar flew him to their medical professionals as fast as he safely could, and, you can breathe now, they managed to get the baby to breathe and he cried out.

Maximus could hear him in his workshop and smiled as he dropped his tools. Black Bolt rushed back to him with another doctor, who operated on our favorite barely conscious madman. It was the doctor who revealed the womb was synthetic, and Maximus tried to perform the c-section on himself so no one would find out. Maximus, half-conscious, just smirked like, “Of course! Don’t you think our parents would have noticed if I had a womb?”

All of Maximus’s work was removed from his body, and Black Bolt wasn’t really concerned with what he had done because his brother had just given birth and was weak and in pain. He cares. Give him a break.

Later, Maximus was talking to Triton, while Triton was holding his adorable pointy-eared adopted son, and asked what his name was. Maximus had never once bothered to think of one himself after all. Triton had settled on...

Atlas. Or Atlantis? I don’t remember. We’ll settle on Atlas. The weight of the world on that baby’s shoulders. Or something.

Anyway, there was one point shortly after the birth where Maximus took a craft out into the ocean and called for Namor, who popped his head above the surface of the water. They flirted for a bit, but nothing really happened. I think Maximus was just revelling in the fact that he knew Namor had a son and he wasn’t telling him he did?

That was sort of the end of the dream...

There was one point where Maximus had sex with Triton while he was still pregnant. I’m not sure what happened to lead to that or if it developed any relationship between them. I don’t think it did?

Oh! And Black Bolt confirmed with Reed Richard that it was actually Maximus and Namor’s baby since the womb was synthetic. I think he was suspicious that it might have been one of the ladies’ eggs that he’d used. Reed was not happy about keeping the secret. He went to Reed because Maximus could have sabotaged the results in New Attilan. Maximus really can’t be trusted...

I think that’s it. ]

[choisgirls]

Red Fate.

A/N: *rubs my grubby, evil little hands together* The first mysme thing i write in a long time and it turns out this way, you’re welcome

The click of the keys were the only sounds to echo across the room.

For once in his life, Saeyoung’s mind was at a standstill. Nothing roamed the inner depths of his head—not jokes, not strings of code—not even beautiful images of a certain white cat popped up like advertisements as they normally did.

Mindlessly, he tapped at the keyboard in front of him, the light from the monitor being the only source in the room. It glared as it struck his glasses, taking unfair measurements to ensure it lit up only the harshest aspects of his features.  

The bags under his eyes, the heavy scowl on his lips—his face screamed exhaustion, self-pity, and the line between blurred with swirls of emotions. He was well aware why he felt such a way, but admitting it to himself would bring life to the sin, make it truly real, form it into something he couldn’t make disappear.

What good did it do, truly, to keep his mouth shut? Time and time again, he’d watch as the sin in front of him reached out, begging him to join hands with promise of salvation, of protection, of love; He knew what he was in for, he knew what he had been feeling, yet he shoved it further and further down, knowing he wasn’t worthy of the pleasure sure to come with that very hand.

But god, that hand was beautiful.

It looked so soft and welcoming, cupping as though it were ready to caress his face gently and wash every impurity away; But that hand was the impurity instead—it was something he would never get as he was bound to this one, solid coordinate on a plane of vast existence, coded to simply watch in agony as everything unfolded in front of him.

A ding from his phone caught his attention, eyes mindlessly looking over the notifications, desperately searching for that one name to breathe a newfound life into his hallow heart; The message couldn’t open quick enough—he made a mental note to try and fix this problem later—and found his heartbeat rapidly picking up the pace to catch up to the smile across his lips.

They were online—yes, the very sin themselves, though Saeyoung preferred the much more angelic title of MC—suddenly, he had a purpose once again. The gears in his mind started to turn, though the once empty space filled with thoughts and images of them; Which was more painful? The empty, static dysfunction he got as he short circuited, or the silent truth behind the taut red string of fate between the two of them?

‘It’s late!’ He found himself typing, ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘I was worried about you.’

The genuine concern behind their words left him dumbfounded, his heart now beating in a peculiar fashion; No! He wanted to scream out—no, they shouldn’t concern themselves with him! Time and time again he would pull himself closer to them, grasping onto that string for dear life only to find himself letting go and watching as they pulled the string tighter and tighter, on the verge of snapping in two. He wanted so badly for that string to split, so they could find a better, stronger string instead—perhaps a nice yellow? Maybe a silver? How does a green or a purple sound? Anything but this damn red string that would only bring them misery.

How was he supposed to let them go if deep down he truly didn’t want to?

‘Lolololol,’ he falsely typed, ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m the great SEVEN! ZERO! SEVEN! Commander of the stars and conqueror of evil, and secretly—and I cannot stress this enough—the most handsome of devils.’

He could just feel in his soul how they laughed—god, he wished he could witness it firsthand. Maybe he could ask them to step outside in front of the camera—No! The hand around his heart would only crush its contents if he were to actually see it. A deep breath and a small smile later, their reluctant agreeance only tugged at his heart strings more and more as he knew what he had been doing to them.

Days dragged by while nights flew much faster than he wanted. Taking every opportunity to talk to them, laugh with them, even allowing himself to be as vulnerable as he could without letting everything pour out, he knew he had been tugging the string and pulling them close. Did he mean to? What was the right thing to do here? He wanted so desperately to be close to them that he knew it was wrong—that's why their very existence was nothing short of a sin.

And that’s why he would work tirelessly to sever that damn red string.

Saeyoung grew cold, distant—he spoke as though he were a madman and prayed that MC would not be able to decipher the riddles of his heart. He pushed, shoved, even went as far as to leave what was once an electronic safe haven to allow himself to bask in their radiance the moment he saw their name log in. Short answers, bursts of random conversation, distance.  

The string around his finger tugged and tugged, begging him to come back, come close, do something to cut it some slack—but he solely watched from that dark room, catching glimpses of that string of his from the light of his monitor.

MC started to speak more with the others, growing closer, forming bonds. His heart and eyes pleaded, his soul begged, his fingers twitched, but his mind would not move for it knew the truth.  

Snap.

The string around his finger grew heavy, slowly sinking back against him, the neat little bow that held it now sagging and dull. Eyes followed the line, painfully fading away as though it were merely computer-generated numbers and had no attachment to his heart. A small but of the line remained, however, tied around his finger; He played with the bow mindlessly, feeling the sharp pain in his chest as he did so.

And there, at the party, he anxiously rubbed at the bow on his finger as he waited to see them. Heart pounding, mind racing—and as fate would have it, his eyes landed on the perfect mold of pure, unfiltered sin—something so pure he could never be clean enough to hold in his arms.

The hand that once held out for him was now out of reach—try as he might, he could never reach far enough to grab it. The sun, as would have it, was truly too far for someone of measly existence to obtain. Fate was a cruel reality, and she loved to play Saeyoung like the hallow puppet that he was, generating his life time and time again with mixtures of ones and zeros.

He’d smile to himself, so sad and expectant, as he’d come to terms with the rules of Fate’s little game.

“So, Fate says you can’t fall in love with me.”

And there, around their finger, tied in the most pristine of bows, sat a coloured bow.

Saeyoung would have to watch, time and time again as Fate loved her game of torture, as the bow changed colours--none of which ever stayed red.

“But she never said I couldn’t fall in love with you.”

[starkercrossedlovers]

Long Live the King

Tony is fiddling in his workshop, trying to correct the aiming mechanism on the missile launcher he’s designed when the doors burst open, clanging against the cold stone wall and he jumps, startled at the sight of the normally unflappable Captain of the Kingsguard breathless and falling to his knees before Tony.

His eyes are a stormy blue in the firelight, wide and dark, staring up at Tony, a hand pressed to his chest plate, sword at his hip.

“The king is dead, long live the king.”

Tony stares at him dumbly for a moment before rising and standing over the older man. “You’re sure?” he asks softly, lifting a brow.

The Captain nods.

“I am my King. His heart is still in his breast and breath does not pass his lips.”

As he finishes speaking the bells in the castle and then the surrounding city begin to clang, marking the passing of King Howard Stark, Third of His Name, Lord of Manhattan and Ruler of the Three Kingdoms.

They listen as the bells ring on and on and on....

“Rise Captain Rogers, we have much to do this evening,” Tony murmurs, watching as the older man rises to his feet smoothly, blonde heart gleaming gold in the light of the candles.

He is so beautiful it makes Tony’s heart ache. He takes a step forward and then another, rises onto his toes and smiles when the Captain leans down to meet his kiss, a large hand sliding around his hip to hold him steady as they embrace.

Footsteps on the flagstones send them apart, and when the members of the small council burst into the room Captain Rogers is on his knees again, head bowed in supplication to the new King.

The council joins him and Tony stares down at them, heart pounding.

His plan worked.

—————————

Tony kneels on the cold flagstones of the cathedral, head bowed, the warm steadying presence of his Captain just a few feet behind him.

He does not pray because there are no gods, despite what the High Priests and his own beloved mother had tried to teach him—he has seen the world for what it is and knows that no loving god would leave his creations to suffer at the hands of a madman.

His father had once been a wise and tolerant ruler. Then Obadiah Stane had become his right hand, dripping poison into his ear, whispering lies and consolidating power for himself and King Howard had become unsteady, war hungry, cold and indifferent to the suffering of his people.

The attack by brigands resulting in the murder of his beloved mother had been the tipping point. They had been identified as Hydra assasins and the country had tipped into war, famine and disease.

Tony watched as his country was weakened, bit by bit, until they stood upon the brink of ruination.

When a man had sought audience with Tony and presented him with the evidence of Obadiah’s hand in his mother’s death, Tony had thought it an ill trick—till Captain Rogers had been summoned to lock the man away and had promptly fallen to his knees, weeping at the sight of his long lost brother, James.

The man had been captured during the war with Hydra and had been tortured and magicked into compliance, used as a weapon to destroy the kingdom.

James has spoken of a Red Witch, a woman who could create a potion that would put its subject into a deep and dreamless sleep. Captain Rogers had seen to it that he would be on guard over the king, that it would be his hand that would topple the potion into the King’s nightly glass of whiskey, that it would be he who held the pillow to his face and ended his cruel and tyrannical rule.

Tony knows the Captain prays for forgiveness, that he grieves the murder he has committed, even as he knows it was necessary. He would not be the man Tony loves did he not.

They will pass the night together here, in silent prayer, where his father’s body lays in waiting. The air is heavy with incense and myrrh, smoky and thick in the back of his throat and it reminds him unpleasantly of his mother’s funeral.

They did what was necessary—he only wishes he had done it sooner and saved his mother.

—————

Tony kneels before the High Priest, head bowed as the holy oil is rubbed into his forehead. The crown, when it settles onto his brow, is heavy, laden with rubies and diamonds.

He takes the sphere and scepter and rises, turns to face the Lords and Ladies assembled in the cathedral, gaze sweeping over them as they chant—Long Live the King!

His gaze finds Obadiah in the crowd and he sees the jealousy and anger in his eyes, masked by his smile and traitorous mouth chanting along with the crowd.

It matters little.

His end too is coming.

——————

They are in a council meeting, the day drawing to a close when Tony asks if there are any more matters to be brought before the king.

Captain Rogers moves forward and kneels, “My king,” he murmurs, the adoration in his voice warm. “If it pleases the court I have a matter most dire.”

Tony lifts a brow, biting back a smirk at his beloved’s acting abilities. “Captain Rogers, rise and tell me this most dire matter.”

The Captain rises and rests his hand on the pommel of his sword, broad shoulders thrown back, blonde hair shining like spun gold and for a moment Tony sees him not like this—garbed in steel and gold, but in his bed, naked and flushed, moaning Tony’s name as Tony rides his cock.

Clearing his throat, Tony lowers his gaze and sips his mead, then lifts his gaze and nods to the Captain. “Speak.”

“My king, I have found troubling evidence that King Howard did not in fact die in his sleep but was murdered.”

There’s a moment of silence before the room erupts in chaos. Tony notes that Obadiah looks calm, large hands clasped together as he silently assesses Captain Rogers.

“This is a serious crime you allege,” Tony murmurs, cutting through the chaos with a swipe of his hand.

The Captain nods and lifts a hand, holds out an almost empty bottle that holds syrupy red liquid at the base. “Yes my King. This potion was discovered and assessed by our own healers. It is a potion designed to put a man so deeply asleep he would not wake were the earth cracking open around him. It would have been mixed into his Highnesses drink—the whiskey he took each night with his trusted advisor.”

The air in the room goes taut and Tony sees Obadiah sit up straighter, brows furrowing as the situation begins to reveal itself.

“I would advise caution Captain—are you truly suggesting Lord Stane had something to do with my father’s death?” he asks carefully, leaning forward to study the Captain. “He has been loyal to the crown for many, many years, why would he murder his king?”

The Captain lifts his chin in defiance, icy rage pouring out his eyes and oh, how Tony wishes he could kiss him, shower him with praise for this magnificent playacting.

“Because my King, he did not intend to stop with your father, he wished you dead too. With no heir it would fall to Lord Stane to rule till a suitable heir could be found.”

The Captain reaches into his belt pouch and produces the final piece of evidence which will secure the noose around Stane’s neck.

“This is a letter between the King of Hydra—Alexander Pierce—and Lord Stane, bargaining for control over the kingdom after the death of both you and your father.”

The Captain hands it to Tony with a subservient now of his head and Tony let’s his fingers brush delicately against the other man’s for a breath before he takes the scroll and studies it. He knows what’s written on it of course; his spy master, the Black Widow had produced enough evidence on Stane’s guilt that there would be no saving him from the hangman’s noose.

Turning slowly, he meets Obadiah’s nervous gaze, gaze steely.

“What say you Lord Stane? How do you answer these charges?”

Stane stares at him for a moment before sliding from his chair and falling to his knees with an obsequious pleading look on his worn face. “My King, I would never! I loved your father as a brother—I love you as if you were my own son!”

Tony studies him, head tilted to the side before rising, the lords of the council following in a clatter of chairs. “I believe my lord, that you love yourself more than you ever did my father or I.” His gaze is cold and cutting and he waves a hand at the Captain, “Lock him in the tower,” he commands before sweeping out of the room.

He visits Obadiah the night before his execution, standing over the kneeling man he had watched slowly destroy his kingdom for little more than power and money.

Obadiah meets his gaze with a wry smile. “Stitched me up good eh Tony?” he says with a chuckle. “I won’t deny I had plans to kill you and your father, I just hadn’t gotten there quite yet,” he murmurs. “Which means it must have been you and you little pet, Captain Rogers.”

It’s little more than Tony expected—Stane is a smart man.

Tony nods slowly, “Very good Obadiah,” he murmurs, smiling faintly. “Though it hardly matters now.” He stares at the older man and shakes his head, “I look forward to seeing you swing Stane.”

He pauses at the door and glances back, studying the man in the pale moonlight that slashes across the wall and floor—he is wan and exhausted, kneeling chained to the ground, but Tony feels no sympathy, feels little else but disdain.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, the iron door clanging shut behind him.

———————

Stane swings and the people cheer, pelting his corpse with rotten food, stones and other fouler things.

Tony shuts the window overlooking the city and turns away, leans into the embrace of his lover, eyes falling shut as Steve holds him.

“You did the right thing my love, my king.”

Tony smiles tiredly and pulls away to look up at Steve, studying him. “You truly believe that, don’t you?” he asks softly.

Steve nods solemnly, “Of course. Stane would have been the ruination of our country. He was responsible for the death of your mother, for the starvation and slaughter of her people. He was an evil man.”

Tony nods slowly and sighs, tired of these games and schemes. “Perhaps you are right. I fear you are too loyal for your own good Captain.”

Steve studies him for a moment and then falls to his knees in a smooth motion that takes Tony’s breath away. Shining blue eyes like the ocean stare up at him with adoration and his chest feels tight.

“I would gladly slay a thousand men to protect you my King,” Steve murmurs intently. “I am yours to command.”

Tony lifts a shaking hand to cup Steve’s cheek, breathless when the man leans into it, lashes fluttering against his cheeks before he peers up at Tony through them, lips parting as Tony slips his thumb inside, and a breath pases between them before Steve’s lips close and he sucks.

Tony switches his thumb out for two fingers, watching in breathless anticipation as Steve sucks on them with tiny moaning sounds, the wet sound of his fingers thrusting into Steve’s mouth lewd and arousing.

He feels himself harden in his breeches and sees Steve’s cock grow, pushing against his tawny breeches, pulsing and leaving a steadily growing wet patch. His mouth waters and he tugs his fingers free, paints Steve’s cheek with his spit, moaning softly at the debauched sight before him.

Cheeks pinked and lips red, Steve kneels, waiting for Tony to command him.

“Shirt off.”

Steve hurries to comply, tossing it aside so his broad, muscular chest is exposed. Tony hums in pleasure and nods, “Undo your breeches, stroke yourself—slowly,” he orders.

Steve does as ordered, moaning at the first stroke, eyes hooded and heavy on Tony. His throat is dry—he fumbles for the pitcher of mead and pours himself a goblet, sits heavily in his chair, legs spread wide as he watches Steve stroke himself.

Tony undoes his own laces and wraps a hand around his cock, gasping softly, hips jolting when Steve moans at the sight and strokes himself faster. Tony toys with himself lazily, letting the heat burn through him till Steve is rocking his hips and moaning constantly, sweat dripping down his torso as he approaches his release.

“Stop.”

With a high, pained moan, Steve’s hand falls from his cock, his whole body rocking forward as his desire demands touch, sensation.

Tony tucks himself back into his breeches and rises to his feet unsteadily, swaying from mead and desire as he looms over Steve. Cupping his chin he lifts Steve’s head to meet his gaze and swallows a sound of pleasure at the sight of his beloved so golden with arousal it shines on his skin like the sun.

“You’d stay like this if it I asked it of you, wouldn’t you?” he asks, aroused and amazed.

Steve nods lazily, “Anything for you my King, anything.”

“Even if I said you couldn’t come? Even if I wanted to use you for my own pleasure and stave off yours till it pleased me to allow it?”

Steve nods eagerly, leaning harder into Tony’s hand at his jaw, eyes hooded and hungry, so dark blue they look like storm clouds.

“I am yours my King, my Tony. Yours...”

Tony swallows hard, the weight of what he’s being given settling into his belly like molten steel.

“On the bed then,” he whispers hoarsely, “on your back.”

Steve hurries to comply, limbs uncoordinated and desire weakened. He is a large man; tall and broad and strong, but here, here he is not the Captain of the Kingsguard, here he is Steve—beloved of the King.

Tony strips him off his breeches and removes his own, slicks his hands with oil and begins stroking Steve’s cock while his other hand pushes between broad thighs and against the furl of muscle there.

Steve whines and arches into the touches, moaning Tony’s name as he is slickened, loosened and filled with Tony’s fingers. Each time Steve draws close to the edge Tony’s hands still, his gaze rapt on his lover as he moans and writhes, begging his King for more.

“Are you ready for me my love?” Tony croons, stroking Steve’s cock slowly so he can watch the man whimper and writhe, nodding desperately and begging Tony to take him.

“Please Tony, My King, please, take me,” he gasps, hips arching desperately.

Tony himself is at the end of his rope, hands shaking with want. He nods and soothes Steve with a gentle hand on his thigh before he slicks himself and pulls his fingers from inside the other man, hushing him gently when he whines at the loss.

Tony pushes Steve’s thighs wide and teases his hole with the head of his cock before pushing in with a low groan, cursing at the tight swell of heat around him. Steve moans and arches, crying out Tony’s name as he pushes deeper, filling him in agonizingly slow inches.

Tony leans on one hand over Steve, nails scraping his skin as he begins to thrust, the heat in his belly roaring to life and demanding harder, faster.

Steve cries out with each thrust—breathless gasps of Tony’s name, eyes wide with amazement and adoration.

My king, my king...please, my king

Tony pinches one of Steve’s nipples almost viciously, revelling in the pained gasp it elicits; releases it and watches as Steve sinks into bliss, hips rocketing up as Tony thrusts, his unattended cock throbbing and spilling droplets down the reddened skin.

Steve shudders under him with each of Tony’s increasingly desperate thrusts, cries growing high and wanton, body taut as a bow string, ready for release.

Tony pinches Steve’s other nipple and reaches down with his free hand to stroke his cock and snarls out a demand, “Come now Steve, come for your king.”

Steve’s eyes roll back in his head as Tony thrusts recklessly, gasping as his own release crashes through him and then Steve is coming with a shout, cock painting his skin white, shudders running over his body in waves.

Tony!

He clenches around Tony as his thrusts grow wild and erratic and Tony groans, half a sob on his lips as Steve’s release goes on and on, rippling through his large frame in devastating waves.

Steve!

Tony spills inside Steve with low broken moans and shudders as his hole clenches around his cock, the sensation too pleasurable, bordering on painful and he thrusts a few more times till it is painful and then withdraws carefully, collapsing beside Steve with a gust of breath.

As the air cools the cum and sweat on their skin, Steve rolls to his side and stares intently at Tony, one large hand splaying over Tony’s heart.

“It belongs to you,” Tony whispers, laying his own hand over Steve’s.

Steve nods and lifts Tony’s hand to press against his chest, feel the steady beating of his heart beneath his broad chest.

“As does mine. You have my heart, my body, my love,” he murmurs, “I am yours Tony, my King, my love.”

As Tony rolls into his side and kisses him he hears the cries rise up in the city as the food stores are passed out to the hungry and the sick are tended by the best healers.

Long Live the King!

It will take time to undo what Stane and his father have done.

Long Live the King!

He watches as Steve falls asleep, lashes burnished bronze in the candlelight, skin like golden marble, more beautiful than the finest sculptor could imagine.

Long Live the King!

It doesn’t matter how long it takes, so long as his Captain is by his side, in battle, in bed, in every move he makes to secure his kingdom and keep his people safe.

Long Live the King!

He will do what is necessary.

Long Live the King!

What is hard.

Long Live the King!

What is right.

Long Live the King!

—————

My only explanation is this song: Requiem Mass in D because I’m a classical music nerd and a history nerd so here you go, have some royalty stony au stuff. Hope you enjoyed it!!

Xoxo 💋

@sluttystarker @infinity-worried @xarles56 and @starkerchemistryy cuz I’m pretty sure you’re my stony babes within the starker fandom! If you like stony and wanna be tagged in future works, lemme know!!

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

WARNING: Very mild sexual content.

NOTE: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, please toss a little appreciation my way. Helps keep me from becoming that "starving artist" thing everyone keeps talking about! By the way, be on the lookout for a PERSONA 4 fanfic coming to this space soon! See you all!

Jessex

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"None of your business!"

Despite her protestation, Makoto couldn't seem to keep the grin off her face as she loitered around outside the haunted house ride. No matter how many times she had been badgered to enter, she had resisted; scary movies and things like that always stuck with her long after the initial "thrill", and she therefore stubbornly refused to be forced inside. The wait time had seemed best spent catching up with a friend.

"Girl, you keep ducking my questions," Eiko's voice tittered on the other end of the call. "You killed my relationship with Tsukasa, so the least you can do is let me feed off gossip!"

Smirking as she nibbled at the Jack Frost-shaped melon bread, she told her, "He was a host. You didn't have a real relationship; he was just using you for your money. Where's my 'thank you' for setting you straight?"

"I did thank you! But like, you also didn't find me a new boyfriend, either!" They both giggled for a few seconds. "So…"

"So?"

"Who are you on a date with? Still that Ren guy?"

"N-no," she said, grinning like a fool as she turned away - as if anyone were listening. They weren't. "And I never said I was on a 'date'. Stop living vicariously through me, it's not healthy."

Eiko's voice got higher and whinier. "You can't make meeee!"

"Maybe not, but there's nothing to live vicariously through. Besides, you're pretty and sweet, and funny. It won't take you that long to find someone. And in the meantime-"

"Yeah, yeah," she cut her off. "I know. I should be figuring out the rest of my life instead of just working in a maid cafe. But it is good money…"

Rolling her eyes, she hissed, "They don't have to be mutually exclusive! Just… figure it out while you work. And don't be afraid to love again."

"God… I mean, my judgment is obviously wack. You sure I shouldn't die an old maid? Pun intended."

"YES." Just then, Makoto spotted a wobbling figure and hurriedly said, "Oh, I gotta go. But I'll call you later, okay?"

"Who are you there with?! MAKO-CHAAAAN!" But she didn't answer her. Just thumbed the 'end call' button and turned back toward the incoming patient.

Sadayo Kawakami looked distinctly ill for having bragged so staunchly that she was going to be "just fine on her own" on the ride. She hung onto the railing near where Makoto had been waiting, taking a few deep breaths. "Oh… oh, I really regret that…"

"Hashtag yolo?" she asked bemusedly.

"Hash-what? Yo-low? You know I don't keep up with you kids and your silly internet lingo."

Makoto grinned wide and offered her bread to her girlfriend. After only a moment's hesitation, she took a big bite. "It's okay, doesn't really matter. Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"Well… it was fun and it wasn't, but there was a part at the end that really got me. So scary how their heads come off like that, floating all over the place!" She shivered and rubbed her arms, and they shared a little laugh. "But um… your choice of vacation spots was…"

"Was what?"

"Destinyland?! I already feel like a creep, taking a girl so much younger than me on a vacation, and you literally had me take you to a children's amusement park."

Holding up her index finger, she corrected, "It's a family theme park. Not just for kids. And I didn't make you do anything; I only suggested it because I had so much fun with my friends. Besides, you were the one who was so excited to finally take me somewhere now that I graduated."

"Yeah, yeah," she handwaved - literally waving her hand around and making Makoto giggle. "Then why didn't you invite the prosecutor if this is supposed to be for family? Hmmmm?"

"W-well, um… I think I've forced my poor sister to have to deal with my sexuality enough for one lifetime. Maybe it would be cruel to persist." Flashbacks of that ill-conceived lapdance haunted her, even now. Though she knew it was fairly harmless and she had only done it to prove a point, it was still distinctly un-familial and poor Sae had seemed a little more awkward around her ever since.

"Sure, sure. Still… I'm surprised you didn't ask your friends along. Didn't one of them get you these tickets?"

"Yes, my friend Haru. As for why they aren't with us… well, I wanted to spend a special day with my special friend. Aren't I allowed?"

Sadayo couldn't keep the huge grin from spreading. "Okay. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than glad to have my little Master all to myself. Just wondered why you chose this spot."

Instantly, Makoto's ears were turning red, and she started hiding her face behind her melon bread. "Stop that! You know it embarrasses me when you call me 'Master' - and besides, you quit that job!"

"I did," she giggled, locking arms with her. "But it's fun watching you get all ruffled about it."

"I'm not 'ruffled', I'm mortified. I do not want to be in charge of my girlfriend!"

The elder woman bit her lip and began to pet up and down Makoto's upper arm as they started strolling through the gathered crowds. Luckily, they had picked a day Destinyland was not incredibly busy, but neither was it a ghost town; too many people would have sucked all the fun out of the trip, but too few would have made their date that much more conspicuous. No matter how much they wanted to be out and proud, just enough of Japanese society still looked down upon lesbian relationships as 'immature' to make them uncomfortable; they simply didn't want a bunch of snide looks and whispering behind their backs. Maybe one day, things would be different.

"Maybe I want you to be in charge of me."

"What?! Stop saying things like that - you sound like you've been to Shinjuku."

"Nothing wrong with Shinjuku, you know; those are our people. I guess." Despite her words, now Sadayo looked a little worried.

"Oh… I know. And I've been there, and you're right; they're just people living different lives than we're used to knowing anything about. But I like figuring it out on our own."

Now Sadayo looked surprised. "You went to Shinjuku? Why?!"

Before she could answer, the conversation was suddenly shattered with an outcry of "HEY! MAKOOOTOOOO!"

At first, she felt a spike of fear that it was was Eiko, tracking her down like a bloodhound. Instead, she saw a pair of fluffy blonde pigtails bouncing over most of the heads in the crowd as they weaved toward their location.

"Ann?!"

"Hey!" the blue-eyed font of youthful excitement exclaimed as she came to a stop in front of them. "Wow, what are you guys doing here?! Are you on a date - is this a legit date?!"

"Shhh!" Miss Kawakami shushed her, cheeks rouging. "So this is the one you spilled the beans to…"

"I didn't! Well… I only told Ann so she could help me setup that nice evening we had together. Remember, your outfit? Plus she's one of my best friends, and she's also-"

"She's one of the former Thieves," she said in a much quieter voice. Makoto could see shock flicker across Ann's features but she didn't say anything right away. "Of course you trust them. I just wish you had filled me in as much as you filled her in."

Now Makoto looked just as embarrassed as she did regretful. "I… forgot?"

"A lot happened," Ann put in with a shrug, scratching the back of her neck. "So no duh you'd forget to mention it. You saw the whole thing, right, Kawakami-sensei? In Shibuya? We were fighting a literal god!"

"No, no, you misunderstand." Their teacher reached out to rest a hand on Ann's shoulder, smiling softly. "I'm not mad! Especially not about you saving us from that madman and the evil spirits pulling his strings." It seemed Kawakami had decided it was easier to think of them as 'evil spirits' being controlled by a megalomaniac than to fully absorb that the god in question had been doing its best to keep the entire population enslaved within their own complacency. Even Makoto herself wasn't sure how to feel about that, and she had a front-row seat to the near disaster. The Phantom Thieves had changed the heart of all of Japan and it barely made a difference, but at least they had hope for the future now.

Sadayo continued, pulling her from her self-reflection. "Anyway, I'll get over it. More like, I wish I knew so we could have been talking about it before now, and I could keep track of who we're 'out' to. That's all, I promise."

That made her flash one of her patented Takamaki megawatt smiles. "Really? I mean, I'm just some dumb girl in your class, you don't have to talk to me about anything."

"Ah, ah!" She held up an admonishing index finger, and both girls ducked their heads instinctively. "You're a very important person in my girlfriend's life. That trumps your grades - which really aren't that bad, all things considered. Not compared to Sakamoto-kun's."

As they shared a laugh at Ryuji's expense, another figure pushed through the crowd to their sides. "There you are! I finally got our tapioca drinks and I turned around, and you were gone! Where… did you… oh."

We were all still staring openly at the dark-haired girl as Ann smiled and took her drink, seemingly not noticing that the girl fell silent when she noticed they weren't alone. "Thanks. And I'm sorry I ran off - I didn't go that far! Just to say 'hi' to these guys."

"Suzui-san," Sadayo breathed in mild surprise. "It's… been a while. How are you?"

That higher-than-usual level of concern made sense. The last time Kawakami had seen Shiho Suzui, she had just jumped off the roof and was being escorted to the hospital in an ambulance. Now she almost looked back to her usual self, even if she seemed as sickly as she had before Coach Kamoshida's unwanted advances drove her to the suicide attempt.

"F-fine, Sensei," she answered haltingly, bowing politely. "I'm… sorry to interrupt."

"You're fine," Makoto told her warmly, keeping her smile small and polite. Trying to set her at ease.

"Yes, of course!" Sadayo joined in. "So you're here with Takamaki-san? That's good; I'm glad to see you're out and about. Really, I mean that; after that bastard… well, nevermind. Forget him."

Even while Shiho stared at the ground, starting to sink into her private pool of anxiety, Ann grabbed her by the arm and shook her just enough to jostle her out of it. "Yep! We're all about moving forward, remembering the good times and aiming for the future! Ain't that right?"

"Ann!" she whispered shyly, but at least she was starting to smile again. She had always been a bit mousy and meek around anyone who wasn't Ann; at least, Makoto had thought so.

"What? You ashamed of hanging around with the weird gaijin?"

"Don't say that, you know I'm not. I… always want to hang out with you." Then she bit her lip, looking away shyly.

And it clicked. Makoto prided herself on being able to analyse a situation, and this one was telling her something extremely specific.

"Oh." Glancing up at Ann's face, then back to Shiho's, then back to Ann's, Makoto asked, "You two are here for the same reason we are. Aren't you?" Ann bit her lip even harder and nodded - but in her case, the lip-biting was to prevent her grin from being huge enough to be visible from the International Space Station. "Wow…"

"What?" Sadayo blinked at Makoto a few times, then glanced between the other two girls. "Oh, really? Wait - that can't be true. That would be crazy!"

As Shiho started to edge behind Ann, as if she could legitimately hide there, Ann turned to whisper to her, "Wait, Shiho, you don't have to do that. These two are cool."

"Wh-what do you mean? 'Cool'? I… how do they… do they know we're…?"

"It's okay," Makoto hurried to explain, picking up Sadayo's hand and raising it as they laced their fingers together. "You don't have to hide who you are around us."

Then it finally clicked for the former volleyball star. "Oh. You two… you're lesbians?"

"I'm bisexual, I'm pretty sure," Sadayo chuckled nervously. Though the nervousness didn't make her drop Makoto's hand. "Since I used to date men and I didn't hate it that much. But those jerks had their chance; my Mako-chan takes way better care of me."

"Stop!" she hissed back at her girlfriend, and both she and Ann giggled. "But you're right, I try to."

"And you succeed." Then she turned back to Shiho. "So how long have you and Ann been… seeing each other?"

Completely red-faced, Shiho whispered, "N-not long. A few weeks."

"Ren and I took her to the roof of the school again," Ann explained as she managed to get Shiho to stand next to her again, then slid an arm around her waist. "Before he moved back home. So she could, y'know, make peace with what happened. And while we were up there, like… all the feelings came out. Things we wanted to say to each other before but couldn't, and then I wanted to while she was going through physical therapy but thought it would be too weird to do it then, and… I dunno. The time was right."

"Yeah," Shiho whispered, finally looking somewhat at peace as she wrapped both arms around Ann and leaned into her side. Makoto felt her heart skipping a beat; they were so adorable together! "Maybe I wasn't very um, perceptive, but… all those weeks of her visiting me, cheering me on even when I felt like I'd never walk again… how could I not love her? Just took me a while to see it."

"I can relate," Makoto hummed. Sadayo turned and kissed her cheek.

"Same here, Master."

Shiho's eyebrows furrowed, and while Makoto was trying to recover she said, "But is it alright? Her being your student - won't you get in trouble with the faculty?"

"Well… not anymore," Ann giggled. "She was a third year, remember?"

"Oh? Ohhhh, that's right; she's off to university now. So Kawakami-sensei is no longer her teacher." Reserved as it was, her smile started to grow. "You're really dating? It's not just us?"

"Not just you," Sadayo reassured her gently. "But you have to give the Queen the credit for being the initial pioneer."

"Huh?"

"She's the one who flipped me, dressing all butch and putting on that mustache. The rest of us were hopeless after that."

Makoto's face was almost as red as Shiho's now. "Hey! Cut that out, I am not a pioneer!"

"You totally are!" Ann cackled as Shiho was polite enough to do her giggling behind her hand. "I mean, if not for you crushing on Kawakami, I'd never have even thought about dating a girl. So y'know, my feelings for the best girl in the world would have been stuck behind that wall of, of… straight-ness. That makes you a lesbian leader! Hero to us all!"

"You're so cool with this," Makoto half-accused. "Why? I thought you were still looking to date boys - how did you change your mind so easily?"

That got the blonde shrugging. "What can I say? Shiho's amazing - and when I thought about my life without her in it, that sucked so much that I slowly realised I never wanted to be away from her again. That's about it; love won."

"Very true," Shiho whispered with bunched cheeks of joy. "She's my Ann. Forever."

"So simple," Sadayo giggled as she approached to hug them. Shiho did jump in surprise, but still allowed herself to be squeezed by the older woman. "I'm happy for you two, though. After all the both of you have been through… you deserve this."

It only took Makoto a few seconds to join in the group hug. "Agreed. I'm so happy and proud to call you my friends!"

Ann's laughter could have filled a stadium. "Right back atcha, Queen!"

                                                              ~ o ~

The four of them found a ride to go on together, and had a lot of laughs before parting ways. Ann and Shiho only had day passes, and they wanted to feel out their new romantic connection - which was best done one-on-one. But Makoto and her former teacher had booked a room in the hotel.

"You're sure you want it to be here? Even though it's a 'children's park'?"

Sadayo smiled over her shoulder as she tossed her blouse onto the dresser carelessly. "The hotel isn't a children's hotel. I mean, I didn't see any 'no sex' signs in the lobby, so we should be alright."

Getting up from the bed, where she had been lounging, Makoto slid her hands up Sadayo's back to begin toying with her bra clasp. There was a brief instant where the woman froze, unsure of how to react… and then it passed. But it was enough to merit a response.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"No," she groaned, head dropping back so she could gaze up at the ceiling as if praying for a deity to ease her suffering. "I mean, yes, I'm ready to do this. But I'm not. God, I sound like a little kid."

"I'm the kid, remember?" When that only prompted a louder groan, Makoto laughed and hugged her around the middle from behind, nestling her face against her former teacher's neck. "It's alright. I'm nervous, too. We can wait if you need more time."

"I don't need to wait. Well… I mean, we'll see," she amended with a soft laugh, and Makoto smiled even wider against her skin. "Either way, it's nice to- oh!"

The gasp was accompanying her bra coming off. Makoto's hands slid up the plane of her stomach to begin tripping very lightly over the sides of her breasts, avoiding her peaks for the time being. Clearly, Sadayo appreciated that, because she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You sure you don't want to slow down a little?"

"No. I want to see… how we work together. In bed. Since I've only been with men, and you haven't been with anyone. If…" She swallowed hard, voice growing soft and apologetic. "If I can't handle doing the deed with a girl, I'd like to find out before you end up trapped in a relationship with some woman who isn't, um… sexually compatible? If that's a real thing?"

Makoto's brow creased as she pet down Sadayo's sides to rest her hands on her hips. "Oh. Um… I hadn't considered that. I guess I just… like you so much and am getting so comfortable with you that I kind of… assumed it would be fine? But now, that seems pretty stupid."

"It's not," she breathed as she turned to face her. The girl's cheeks were clearly rosy at getting the full view of her, and Sadayo smiled softly. "I'm actually jealous it's that easy for you. Maybe I'm overthinking this whole thing, huh?"

"You think this is easy?! No way! I'm still scared! Just…" She shrugged and kissed the corner of her former teacher's mouth. "It's you."

That kiss led to a dozen more. Which led to further clothes being shed, hands wandering. Makoto was surprised at how much she liked the feeling of nails raking down her back, teeth nipping at her earlobe. How wet it made her, how much more she craved. It was as if she had been aching for this for years, not a few scant months.

"How does this even work?" Sadayo whispered once they were very nude beneath a very thin bedsheet. "You don't have anything I'm used to working with! Well… I mean, on myself, but even then I use a vibrating egg most of the time, so it's not the same…"

The former student's smile was as playful as it was bashful. "Don't worry, I'll show you."

"You'll show me? Wait - how will you show me?!"

"So… I may have looked up a few things…" When Sadayo looked alarmed, she dipped her head in chagrin. "Shhh, I know, it's shameful. But I was curious, because everything I learned in sex education barely even covered how this works for um… penetrative sex with male and female organs. It certainly never covered this."

Her girlfriend cringed, looking squeamish. "Don't say it all clinical like that, it makes me feel creepy."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"No, no, it's okay. I just… you're almost more grown up about this than I am. Doesn't that seem… backwards? At all?"

"It seems fair, actually. You get to be the adult about some things, and I get to about others. That's how relationships work, right?"

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "Yes, Master," before kissing her again.

"Good, Becky. And as your master, I order you to stop calling me that and just… be here with me." She bit her lip for a second before whispering, "Sadayo."

"Ughhh, you know it gets me weak when you say my name like that!"

Not that it caused her to slow down at all. Makoto was more than happy to begin using every trick she had gleaned from the reluctantly-clicked links for the sole purpose of making her girlfriend sound as beautiful and unfettered as she had ever heard her. The fingers worked better than her mouth - which earned a startled outcry and a lot of shoving away, both of them laughing afterward. She had never had so much fun in all her life.

Afterward, they lay in bed staring at the ceiling and humming when they weren't panting for breath. Too afraid of what they might say to manage saying it. Then Sadayo finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe we just did that."

"I can't believe it took us that long. Well… I can, but only for specific reasons."

Rolling slightly to face Makoto, a lock of hair falling into her eyes, she whispered, "Still doesn't seem real, y'know? You and me… even if I did know I was a lesbian before, even if I was going to date a student - which I wasn't, ever!"

"I was the last one on your list?" she guessed with a smirk.

"Yeah. Just… I didn't think you could ever… you were the student council president. Right?"

"No, no, I know what you mean; I'm not offended. Trust me. But…" Sliding a little closer, she pet up and down the soft skin over her ribs, watching Miss Kawakami suck in a breath of gentle surprise when one finger moved down to dip into the well of her navel. "I'm happy."

"Mmm… couldn't be happier you took my heart. Even if this is crazy, I'm glad we didn't screw it up somehow."

Giggling, she leaned in to peck her chin. "Came pretty close, pretty often. But at least we're here now. Together. And… we can be together in Okinawa, too."

"Really? You still wanna go, even after Destinyland?"

"Of course. We don't have anywhere to be; not for a million years."

"We sure don't, my Queen."

They lost themselves in passions again, lips and hips colliding and arms tightening around sweating backs. And Makoto Niijima vowed anew that she would never let Sadayo Kawakami out of her sight again.

                                                              THE END

[tetrakys]

Captor and Captive -pt.2

I don’t know what to say... this thing has so many ff warnings... think about one (explicit, cheating, dub con, kidnapping...) and it’s probably in here, so you are advised.  If you decide to read it, 1000 brownie points to whoever figure out where the interrogation scene I shamelessly copied took inspiration from comes from.

Here is part 1 in case you missed it.

I had never written anything so nsfw before, I blame it on Lance’s evil hotness.

Forgive me father for I have sinned.

I woke to the sound of sea waves and the sensation of being gently cradled in a very soft bed. For a moment it felt really nice and I thought about sleeping a little longer, but when I tried to roll onto my side I realised that my hands were bound tightly at the wrists, above my head, and I could hardly move.

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was a low wooden ceiling. I realised I was in the cabin of a boat and immediately remembered everything that had happened before. I had been kidnapped.

Ashkore… Lance, with a knife at my throat had made his way out of HQ down to the beach. Enthraa had betrayed us, she was on his side and had helped him escape. She had also knocked me unconscious when I had fought with all my strength to run off the boat when I had seen that sea monster grabbing…  a heavy weight settled in my heart. No, I wouldn’t think the worst. I saw Miiko and everyone else rush into the water before falling unconscious. Everything was all right. He was all right.

But I hurt, and it was only partially connected to my kidnapping and its disastrous consequences. No, the real reason was that I remembered what had happened before Lance had pointed that knife at me. His words had cut deep into me. He was a murderer, I hated him, but everything he had said made so fucking sense that it was making me sick just thinking about it. And it wasn’t because of his attempt at manipulating me, no, I could see right through that… the reason was that, deep within me, I agreed with everything he had said. I’d also been thinking every single one of the points he had made many, many times since I’d landed in Eldarya.

Eldarya had been created through the sacrifice of two entire races, whose consent I was seriously starting to question.

The Guard of Eel’s main solution to solve any problem was kill first ask questions later. They had killed anyone infected by the Christal without really trying to save them first. They had been one step to kill Colaia without even knowing if she was infected or not.

And me… they had used me as a bait more times than I could count. Lied so much that I hardly knew what was real anymore. And they had taken away my family from me. I acted like I was at peace with it now, but I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay at all.

Yes, Lance was right about pretty much everything he had said, but this didn’t mean I had to agree with his methods. He had too much blood on his hands.

And yet you seemed to like those hands quite a bit, didn’t you? A small voice in my head said, and I blushed despite myself.

I had allowed him to touch me, kiss me… I thought he was bound by Miiko’s spell but he had been able to move all along, he’d had every chances to kill me and escape quickly, instead he had used that precious time to… do what exactly? Mess up with my mind and my body? I had to figure out what was his game, and fast.

I tried to free my hands, but it was pointless, they were tightly tied to what was probably the bed’s headboard. I tried to look around the room as much as my position allowed, luckily my head was resting on a thick (and very comfortable) cushion.

I found him crouched in the corner of the room, staring at me. Or, at least, I thought he was staring. He was wearing his mask again, those red cruel eyes pointed at me. Now that I knew who and what he was, it was very easy to recognise the dragon design, it had been under our noses all this time.

“Where am I?” I asked coldly.

“You’re my guest” he simply replied.

“What happened to the others?”

“You mean the murderers, traitors and thieves you call friends? You’d be relieved to hear they are all well, even your precious boyfriend.”

I felt the heavy weight leave my heart, relieved I just looked at him in silence, while he stared right back at me.

“You still want to fight me” he said after a while.

“That happen when you are kidnapped by a creature in a mask. And you were more than ready to kill me in order to escape, don’t even try to deny it.”

He paused at my words, then stood up and removed his mask, and I saw his face again. Icy cold eyes that had looked into me deeper than anyone ever had before. Big, straight lips that I knew were both rigid and soft and gave him a severe look. Twin scars on his nose that didn’t take anything away from his looks and probably, in a strange way, even enhanced it. Short wild hair that a small crazy part of me was dying to feel under my fingers. I looked away quickly, pointing my gaze back to the ceiling.

“I thought you might feel more comfortable if I wore the mask, since you’ve known me longer with this face, I guess it doesn’t matter.” I heard the sound of his mask being placed on a piece of furniture somewhere in the room. “But you are 100% right, I was ready to kill you without a second thought.”

I wasn’t surprised at all, but still…

“I wouldn’t have enjoyed it though,” he continued “I’m taking a like to you. But the mission is more important than you or me for that matter. Nothing can come in between.”

“Why am I here?” it was pointless to argue with a madman. Better to cut to the chase.

“We were in the middle of something before we were so rudely interrupted.”

My eyes snapped back to his, astonished. He got to be kidding me… was he really thinking about… after almost killing me??

He smirked, quite amused by the situation.

“I’m not talking about that… even though I’m looking forward to pick up to where we left off. No, I’m talking about our game.”

“What?”

“An answer for an answer. That was the deal.”

I was amazed by his single-mindedness and all around assholness.

“Go to hell Lance, I’m done playing your games.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to hell, but not before I’m done taking Eldarya and everyone else with me. Everything is ready, the chessboard is set and I know everything I need about all the pieces involved... except for one, you. I don’t know what’s your role into this. Are you going to destroy my plan? Could you be useful to me, instead? You are a mystery, an unknown variable, and I don’t like to be in the dark. So, as you wish, I’ll go straight to the point: what are you?”

So that was it, he wanted to know my faelian race. What would he do with the information? I had told Miiko but I was starting to regret the decision I made. Valkyon knew it too though, and this already made two people in in the secret. How long before the news spread? I thought I could trust them, but at this point I didn’t know who to trust anymore, if anyone.

“I’m not telling you anything” I said in between my teeth.

“You have a connection with the Oracle and the Crystal” he continued, ignoring my words. He paused, and looking at me from head to toes, in a low voice added “you know I can take whatever I want.”

I just stared at him, unflinchingly.

“I have many ways to make you talk. Most of them are really painful, but many, believe me, you would enjoy quite a bit” he said raising an eyebrow, with a mischievous smile. “Of course, I could also get a truth serum and either force or trick you into drinking it, but that’s not really my style. That’s more like your Guard’s buddies.”

I flinched at those words, he knew he had hit the nail in the head.

“You keep protecting lowlifes who have done nothing but lie and hurt you, and that’s me the one you keep looking with hate?”

“That’s because I do hate you. You’re a monster” I spitted out.

He grabbed a dagger, the same one he had threatened me with just a few hours before, and came closer, standing right above me, pointing it at my heart.

“Tell me, then” I could feel the cold point lightly piercing through my clothes, “why did you let this hateful monster touch you?”

I… had no idea how to reply to this question.

“No words? Then, answer this, why did you enjoy it?”

“I didn’t” I growled.

“Erika…” he said in an admonishing tone “we agreed to be honest with each other.”

“I am, I didn’t like it one bit.”

He just stared at me coldly for a moment, then he smirked and with a quick move of the dagger, cut my shirt from neck to bottom. I drew my breath surprised.

He jumped on the bed straddling my hips, one hand was at the side of my head, the other grabbed my chin, so that I was forced to look directly at him, “We are going to play a new game. Every time you lie to me you’ll be punished; every time you say the truth you’ll be rewarded.”

“Wha…”

Removing his hand from my chin, he took the dagger again and pointed it at my throat. Then he lowered it, slowly, the point lightly grazing my skin. He moved it down on my chest, between my breasts still covered by my shredded tunic, on my belly, up to my navel. His eyes followed fascinated the movements of the dagger on my skin.

I should have been terrified, scared out of my mind… but I wasn’t. I was starting to understand the twisted ways his brain worked. Everything he did, all his killings, were either calculated moves towards his goal, or caused by the hate he felt for the Guard. He didn’t see me as part of the Guard, he didn’t hate me, so unless he thought I was a hindrance to his plans I was safe. Probably.

So I stared him straight in his face, seemingly unimpressed, and said “are you planning to cut me into pieces to make me talk?”

He moved the knife back up, using it to uncover one breast, and aimed the cold pointed tip to my nipple, which instantly hardened at the touch. He finally raised his eyes to meet mine, “And ruin this perfect body?” he said with a mischievous smile, “as I said, I have other ways to make you talk.”

Dropping the knife to the floor, he lowered his head to my breast and took it into his mouth, sucking and biting on my nipple with strength. I hissed and tried to move away, but his hand came to my other breast grabbing roughly and pinching my nipple between his cold fingers. It was a strange sensation, painful at first, but the more he licked and touched, other feelings came in, and he skilfully kept me there, at the threshold between pain and pleasure.

“So, let me reformulate the question” he said after a minute, “do you like it when I touch you?”

“No” I replied mustering all my strength.

“No?” he asked doubtful. Fucking asshole, he knew perfectly well what he was doing to me, with an evil smile he latched to my breast again, this time licking and touching less roughly, and my back instinctively arched from the sensation, pressing into his mouth further. It was good, oh so good. He moved to the other breast and started licking and sucking there too, while his hand went to the one he had just left, grabbing and massaging with care.

He stopped again and I almost growled in displeasure, he just smirked and said “Well, Erika… let’s try again. Do you like to be touched by me?”

I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, I was not supposed to like it, but I did, and wanted, no… needed more. I mumbled some unintelligible sounds.

“What?” he asked, his hands both on my breasts massaging lightly in soft motions that weren’t nearly close enough to what I really needed. So, I gave him a small nod.

“With words Erika.”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I like it! I hate you, but I like it when you touch me… are you happy now?” I replied angrily.

“Almost…” he said in a mocking tone. He looked at his own hands still massaging my chest “I really love these” he said squeezing just a little “so round and soft… and so responsive… I’d keep playing with them the whole day” he added almost lovingly. Then he looked me back in the eye and said “See? I am always sincere, I have no problem admitting that your body makes me crazy. Why did you lie?”

“Fuck you.” I spat out irritated. One thing was fucking with my body, the other was doing the same with my head.

He tsk amused. “You and I both know the answer, but I want to hear you say it out loud. Let’s see… what should I do… tell me, what would you like me to do now?”

“Die.”

He just looked at me bemused for a moment, then said “you lied again”, and raised on his knees. With a strong and fluid movement, he turned me down on my belly, so that now I rested on all four on my elbows and knees, my head on my tied hands. I was about to protest when, with another quick movement, he tore my pants and underwear away, leaving me completely exposed.

 He opened my legs and settled between them, now there was no way I could hide the evidence of my arousal. I silently waited for him to word whatever diabolical idea he had in mind, but for a moment he just stood there, still and silent as well. Then, I felt a sound and a stinging pain on my ass.

Had he just… spanked me?!

I froze in shock and felt him massaging my ass sweetly, that was… nice. But between a caress and light pinch he alternated unyielding hits across my bottom. The duality of the two opposite sensations was doing strange things to me, my skin was hot and I knew I was completely drenched down there. He must have noticed too because, after a few minutes, I heard him whisper “Your body is a work of art…” while massaging my bottom kindlier than he probably had intended. His fingers came between my cheeks and started caressing down towards my folds. Once at the entrance he slipped a finger inside me and I couldn’t help but moan at the sensation.

“You are fucking perfect…” he said while slowly moving his finger out of me, and then back in, he was silent for a few seconds and I knew must have been watching attentively the spot where our bodies met. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he added in a low voice.

What was… I… doing to him?

“I must taste you… fuck, I have to… but first tell me why you lied to me, or I’ll stop right now.”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell… I really wanted to, but a part of me really, really wanted him to keep doing whatever he wanted to me. I felt him add another finger and I almost lost my mind, while he started moving his hand faster.

“Tell me…” he said while his thumb hovered on my clit, like a promise, and that was my undoing.

“I’m feeling guilty!” I cried panting, “I love someone, or… I think I do… but the things you do… what I feel… I’ve never felt like this before, not with him, not with anyone else!”

“Good girl” he said, but I could hear that his tone had lost most of the amusement and coldness he had portrayed up until that moment, he was probably as affected by the situation as I was.

“Here is your reward” and I felt him grab my ass with both hands and his tongue lick a path from my clit to my core, plunging into me. The orgasm took me by surprise, it was strong and earth-shattering, and I felt my legs give in.

He quickly grabbed me by the waist and gently helped me settle down, laying on the bed. His tongue came up, licking my bottom where it still hurt a bit from the strong hits he had given me before. He licked and left small kisses up along my back on my spine, up to my neck, until I felt him settle above me, resting on his side, hugging me closer to him, my back to his chest. It was… nice being completely enveloped by him. I was going crazy.

I was still panting, coming down from my high, when I felt his hard shaft between my ass cheeks, moving up and down in slow rhythmic motions. Then his lips at my ear, as he whispered

“You taste amazing” he licked the outer of my ear, sending shivers running down my spine “and you have nothing to feel guilty about, your body is yours to do whatever pleases you with it. No one is worth denying yourself something you desire, especially not someone who has tricked and lied to you constantly. And this” he added, emphasising his words with the rocking of his hips “is something you want, isn’t it?”

He licked my neck and I stopped caring about anything that wasn’t him, his tongue, his hands, his words… and everything his body was promising me.  

“Yes…” I said breathless, and he entered me slowly.

Hi was big… so big… and hard… I closed my eyes, lost in the incredible sensation. We both moaned at the feeling of him burying deeply into me, and for the first exquisite moments we just stayed like that, resting partially on our sides, him moving slowly into me while his arm hugged me closer to him.

Soon, though, his thrusts became rougher, more erratic, and he pushed me flat into the mattress, settling completely on top of me, almost but not completely crushing me with his weight. His hands were rough as one came around me to grasp one breast with strength, and the other grabbed my throat, as he pushed hard his shaft in me and I pushed my hips back against him.

“Untie me…” I panted. “I… I need to touch you… Lance… please…”

“Say my name again…” he said, as out of breath as I was.

“Lance…”

A moment later, I didn’t know how, my hands were free. I felt him leaving my body, but in a quick movement he turned me on my back and entered me again. I wrapped my legs tightly around his hips, my breasts rocking in rhythm with the headboard rocking against the wall as he groaned and pounded forcefully into me.

Now that we were facing I could clearly see him, completely undone by what we were doing together, his usually cold blue eyes shining with passion, and his lips… so close to mine. My hands went to his hair, that were as soft as I had imagined, and pushed his face towards mine, my mouth crushing down on his.

I could tell he was surprised by me taking the initiative, but he soon recovered and kissed me with all he had got. Which it was a lot. His lips took control of mine devouring me, and I came undone again, this orgasm even stronger than the first. The pleasure seemed to extend forever, but when I finally came back to earth I saw him looking at me with wonder in his eyes, and when our gazes locked he came too, with a strength that seemed to take him by surprise, and once he was done he crushed over me.

I found myself lightly caressing his back with my nails, while he recovered his strength.

“I… I’ve never felt…” I could tell that he was confused and didn’t know how to express himself. His head buried between my neck and shoulder.

“That was… you must be an angel…”

I froze at those words, and he noticed. Crap. He was probably just trying to pay me a compliment and I…

He raised his head, his eyes met mine, and I knew I had completely given me away, a slow mischievous smile formed on his lips.

“You are an aengel?!”