#and his chapters about police brutality are so eye-opening. it's ridiculous that these things are not common knowledge

[lestis]

"What does it mean that whiteness is an idea and a set of values and not a natural law, as some would like to believe? Indeed, that it is an idea with consequences? We talked about whiteness as an idea with consequences so that we can see how the idea itself leads to actions, and then we can develop a plan for mitigating those actions. Because white is defined as normal or standard, the people who benefit from it (i.e., white people) often struggle to see it operating, because to them it is simply the natural order of the world. Whiteness is seemingly so ubiquitous that it appears to be invisible. This is why understanding white privilege is important. It is the act of seeing the seemingly invisible. It is the work of white people to undo whiteness. As the writer Michael Harriot has noted, 'White people who are quiet about racism might not plant the seed, but their silence is sunlight.' I do not say this to suggest that people of color have no role; we do. But we will never undo an idea so insidious alone. It begins with white people unpacking and acknowledging that the system is designed or and benefits them in ways that are solely based on their whiteness and not on any attribute that they possess as individuals—this is what we call white privilege."

— Excerpt from On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope by DeRay Mckesson, pg. 87-88.

white ppl have no concept of the pain of finding a community that you belong to and then discovering the deeply entrenched racism in said community

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

I

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

II

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd. 

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.  

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

IV

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away.  It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 3: Mercurian Merengue

Chapters: 3/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Starlight

I will be chasing a starlight

For the rest of my life

I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore

Our hopes and expectations

Black holes and revalations

                                           Muse-Starlight

You awoke in tremendous pain. That wasn't actually too unusual; you'd run out of your pain medication recently, and hadn't had the money to refill your prescription. It was far worse today though, and you groaned. It felt as if you had been dragged backwards down a flight of stairs.

You were having a hard time moving, like you were trying to swim through thick mud. Limbs heavy, and bones feeling like plastic, you rolled onto your side.

You were still wearing your leg. Weird. You almost never fell asleep with that thing on anymore. You must have had one hell of a night. Where had you been?

That's right! Your spineless boss had fired you. Fuck. Had you gotten wasted or something?

No.

No, those G-men had nabbed you! They drugged you with something. No wonder you were so sore and groggy: You were wasted, and those assholes had probably handled you like a sack of potatoes. You were likely covered in bruises now.

You slowly pried your eyes open to be met with an unfamiliar, dimly lit room, mostly unfurnished and uniform. There were no windows, but two doors; one open and leading to what appeared to be a restroom, and one closed.

There was an end table next to you that looked to be made of stone, with shelves carved into it. A cup of water and a plate with apple slices rested atop it. You were suddenly overtaken with hunger and thirst, having no idea how long you'd been asleep. You snatched up a slice of apple and stuffed it in your mouth, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

The bed was also made of stone, though covered with a soft mattress and warm blankets. You didn't see your cane anywhere. The bastards probably left it in the alley. You leaned against the wall instead. It was also stone, as was the floor. Everything in the room, in fact, aside from the apple, water, mattress, pillow, and blankets, was made of stone blocks, flawlessly smooth and perfect. It was a creamy gray-white mostly, with a line of pale orange blocks at about hip level.

The light came from hidden fixtures, affixed into the walls near the ceiling, covered with what appeared to be carved panels of cloudy crystal. It was lovely, and very foreign.

Where were you? You shoved more apple in your mouth, and took a swig of the water.

How odd. The apple was truly delicious, better than any you'd ever had. The water tasted of absolutely nothing. The room also smelled of nothing, nor did the hospital gown you realized you were wearing. You had been changed while you slept. Distressing.

You sat back down on the bed and ate. The apple was gone all too soon, but you were still hungry. That was nothing new. In your life, sometimes it came down to medical expenses or food. At least you'd had an apple and a cup of water. In a situation as uncertain as this, you would be glad to have had it.

But why were you here? Those two men had kidnapped you, for sure, but to what end? What for? Because you were an agitator? You'd heard stories recently about community organizers being targeted, grabbed off the streets and tossed into vans, or yanked from their own homes in the middle of the night. You weren't important like that though. You didn't organize, you just marched. You had no power, no voice, no following. You just marched. You'd borne the brunt of police brutality along with thousands of your fellows across the country, but it wasn't as if anybody knew your name.

Why had they taken you? And so violently? So brazenly? What did they want from you?

There was a light knock at the door, and you jumped in surprise, toppling over with a curse. Two people rushed into the room, and to your side, expressing concern. You flailed at them, trying to bat them away until you realized they were attempting to help you. You allowed them to haul you to the bed and sat yourself down.

“Who are you?” You demanded. “What do you want from me?”

They were children, basically. A girl and boy, teenagers. The boy had a basket on his back.

“I'm Bjarkhilde. This is Andvarri. I am an apprentice healer, and he is an artificer.”

“I've come to measure your leg, my lady.” Andvarri said politely, setting his basket on the stone end table. “We intend to make you a new one. Lighter, more functional.”

“M-my leg? A new leg? Why?” This was baffling. Why kidnap you, just to send children to see to your medical needs? “No...No. Don't touch me. What do you actually want? Who do you work for?”

The teenagers glanced at each other in clear confusion.

“We work for...the healers? And the artificers?” Bjarkhilde said.

“And ultimately the Crown?”

“What crown? What do you want? I said don't touch me! Get away from me! I'm not giving you anything!” You snapped, slapping their hands away.

Bjarkhilde grabbed Andvarri and his basket.

“We should come back later.” She said, dragging him back out the door.

It was fine. You didn't trust them. They worked for whoever had kidnapped you. You didn't owe them the time of day.

You didn't even know the time of day.

The outburst had left you worn out, that and all the sudden movement, and whatever drug was left in your system. You sat back down on the bed, head swimming. Were there guards outside the door? It didn't seem to be locked. Maybe you could find a nurse and ask for help.

You hobbled to the door, out into the hallway. But the sudden brightness of the lights out there hit you like a punch in the head, and you stumbled.

Someone caught you before your face smashed on the stone floor.

“Careful love.” That someone said. You blinked, eyes dazzled. “You might not be in the right shape for exertion just yet.” The voice was low, and carried the echo of a growl, but no anger. Whoever it was lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and carried you back to the stone bed and the dim light.

“Oh, you've already eaten the whole thing.” He said. He must have meant the apple. “That was faster than I expected. I would have liked to feed it to you myself, but...Oh well. This will speed things along, though it might be more unpleasant than it would have been if you'd eaten it over the course of a few days.”

“What are you talking about?” You demanded. He had taken a seat on the stone block end table, a crow against the creamy walls. Or maybe a magpie, as he was pale about the face and hands, but black accented with green everywhere else.

“I've given you a gift.” he said with a little smile, but gave no other information.

You scooted to the opposite side of the bed.

“Where am I?”

He blinked, the smile fading. “You are in Asgard, of course.”

The words almost slid off of you, they were so ridiculous. Asgard? Asgard was a mystery. It barely existed. It was nothing more than a collection of cosmic refugees who had been granted land to rebuild by the U.N.-but no one seemed to know where. No one was reporting new neighbors building alien architecture. No extraterrestrials were walking into local coffee shops after a long day of work. No one even knew where they could be. Even the remotest islands could be contacted, even Antarctica could be seen on Google Maps. But the greater public had found nothing.

The Asgardians had a spaceship that came for supplies every now and then, but it seemed to have some kind of invisibility device, because as soon as it lifted above the clouds, it would disappear, undetectable by telescope or radar, to fly off to whatever secret stronghold they had been granted. No one was able to trace its movements back to its home.

It made sense, of course. If Asgard wasn't hidden, they would be plagued constantly, by curious humans, by horny humans, by worshipful humans, by hateful humans, by vengeful humans. Asgard was a source of great controversy. The people of the God-Hero Thor, greatly beloved and celebrated. But also the people of the Mad Conqueror Loki, loathed and feared. What if more of these Asgardians turned out to be like him? That was the great worry of most of Asgard's detractors. What if there were more Lokis? Even though Loki had been declared dead years ago, what if he had a following?

“Why am I in Asgard? Why did you kidnap me?”You demanded. What could Asgard possibly want with you? It made no sense at all.

The magpie's eyebrows were practically beetled now. “Kidnapped? You were kidnapped? By whom?”

“What do you mean 'by whom'? By you! Your goons!”

“I don't have goons! And I didn't authorize any kidnapping! I thought it was just some Earth custom!”

“Earth custom? Custom for what? Why could Asgard possibly want some drugged out woman? Wait, are you after human slaves?”

“No!”

“You are, aren't you? Well guess what, fucker; you got fleeced. Whatever you paid for me, it was too much! I'm completely worthless!” You yanked up the hem of your hospital gown. “Check that out, eh? No leg! And on top of that, I'm incredibly disagreeable! No friends! No cheery personality! Totally worthless. Good job, asshole! You're getting nothing outta me!”

“Don't say that.” He said, rounding the bed. You scooted back to the other side.

“Sucks to be robbed, doesn't it?” You taunted.

“No, don't say you're worthless. You're not worthless!” He insisted.

“You don't know that. You don't know anything about me.”

“I know you are strong and resilient. You walk on a leg that isn't there, like an Asgardian warrior. Are you in pain? Please, we can make medicine for you. Let me help you!”

“You just stay over there!” You pointed at him, as if to keep him at arm's length. It worked too; he came no closer than the end of your fingertip. “If I'm not a slave, then I've got rights. You owe me big time, buster! You owe me answers!”

“Anything you want.” He said, hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Alright. We'll start with...Who are you?”

He gave you an absolutely dumbfounded look.

“You don't know? How can you not know? Did they tell you nothing?”

“I already said I was kidnapped! You think I had a nice conversation with them?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “Something is very wrong. Please, will you tell me what happened? From your perspective.”

“My perspective? Hmph.” This guy was acting so clueless, it was almost insulting. “From my perspective, I went into work in the morning, and by noon, I'd been fired. My boss said it was because of my arrest record, but it wasn't.”

“Arrest record?” Now he sounded scandalized.

“It was bullshit. I was at a march a couple months ago, and one of the cops sent to break it up shoved past me and tripped on some garbage. Started shouting that I'd knocked him down. Me! He dropped me on my ass and started hitting me with my own cane. Right up until my leg came off, which I guess startled him, because he stopped doing it. His buddies still came over and arrested me. Against the law to get my own ass beat, I guess. They let me go the next day, because there were a thousand phones on them and the video was everywhere, from all angles. Still had to fight to get my leg and cane back. Damn cane was a little bent since then, but it's gone now.”

The man simply stared at you, expression of shocked outrage stretching his features.

“Your lawkeepers attacked you for no reason?”

“Oh no, there was absolutely a reason. To send a message. 'You aren't people, and we will hurt you to keep it that way'. They've been sending that message for decades, but they've really ramped it up over the past couple presidential administrations.”

“Unacceptable.”

“True. But it's a lie. That's not why I got fired, or else it would have happened after I was released. No, I was fired because two MIBs came in and said so.”

“MIBs?” The mans slowly growing confusion was reaching his voice now, driving it upward.

“Men in Black. Nameless, no I.D. government agents, meant to be secret and interchangeable. They came in about lunchtime and pressured my boss to fire me. And he caved fast.”

“The spineless wretch!”

“That's what I thought too! Lower and middle management are a bunch of wet noodles. Mouthpieces. So I grabbed my stuff and left. That bitch Betty smirking the whole way.”

“Betty?”

“Don't worry about her; her kids are all gonna leave and never talk to her again as soon as they turn eighteen. But those sleazy G-men stalked me, and dragged me into an alley, and drugged me. And then I woke up here. In...Asgard? You said Asgard, but why? Why would anyone in Asgard wanna kidnap me? I'm no one worth kidnapping. I'm not even worth selling, especially not to some fairy tale kingdom. Why am I here? Tell me why I'm here!”

The strange magpie man had slowly sunk down to sit on the opposite end of the bed-still at arms length-and picked at his palms, staring down at them like he was about to cry.

“This is terribly wrong.” He said quietly. “It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I don't understand. This was a clear attempt at reconciliation, a grand opportunity to form powerful links between our peoples. Why sabotage that? Why do this? You are not even related to your nation's ruler, are you?”

“We don't have a ruler!” You insisted. “We have a temporary leader who is supposed to be democratically elected! I don't care what that guy thinks, we are going to keep fighting his takeover at every turn! And no, I'm not related to that dictator wannabe, I think I'd die of shame!”

“I see...so it was a sham from the beginning. I have been duped by your shame leader. I, of all people. And what of you, my dear? Caught up in all this, without any choice of your own. But it's already done. I can't take it back now. What terrible situation have we put you in?”

“That's what I'd like to know.” You said. He sounded remorseful, but he still hadn't answered your questions. “Who are you, and what is all this about?”

“My dear. My poor, sweet dear. I am so sorry. I can't undo it now. Please, please, I know this may come as a shock, but please do not be afraid.”

“Way too late.”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry.” He stood, formal and imposing. “My name is Loki; I am the Crown Prince of Asgard. And I asked not for a slave, but for a bride.”

[seizethecringeofproduction]

Flashpoint 2: Advent Solaris - Chapter 2

CONTENT WARNING

 You will be brutally reminded of the DCAMU characters besides Damian and Raven in this chapter. You have been warned. The imagery in this chapter is NOT pretty. 

In the hours following the festival of the sun, Soleanna remained in shambles - reeling from the arrival of this timeline's biggest villain, Dr. Eggman. The castle town area had entire sections of itself barricaded off by the Soleanna royal guard due to the remaining damage that needed to be cleaned up and repaired from the previous night's attack. The New City area was left unscathed due to not being involved in the attack, but it and all of its residents were essentially locked off from castle town due to the tunnel between the two being closed off. Even tourists who were clambering to get back to their homes out of a desire to avoid what they likely knew was coming in the near future ended up being stopped by either entire areas of the country being shut down, resulting in massive lines lasting for entire blocks extending out from the train station and bumper-to-bumper build ups along the highway, or at least so said the news when it came to the latter.

For Barry, this did not help at all with his ambition of helping Sonic in the good fight against Eggman. In fact, it literally achieved quite the opposite.

Well after Barry spent a few good hours navigating the poorly designed, conforming New City district until he located the tunnel door again - all while lamenting no longer having his powers - he was introduced by not only the fact that the large ornate green door was closed but also guardian by a small troop of green-armored royal guardsman. These guardsmen, from what he could tell, were Soleanna's sole police force.

He would soon learn that they actually were more than capable of competing with Gotham City's police force in their sheer levels of corruption and incompetence.

It also should be noted here that quite literally, it appeared as though there were no women present within the ranks of the royal guard, as not once did Barry see a person wearing their green uniforms that even resembled the feminine form. It wasn't until he was stopped from entering castle town that reasons besides the obvious became considerations as to why no woman would want to join this organization:

"I'm sorry sir, nobody is allowed into castle town. No exceptions", one of the three policemen sternly said to Barry, putting out a hand to stop him from walking any further. Being a hero, Barry respected the law, though he didn't exactly appreciate it when they got in the way of 'the job'.

"I've got important business to deal with over there, I'll be right back."

"Whatever business you're going to do, I'm sure it can wait. We have severe building and street repair, as well as an investigation into the kidnapping of Princess Elise."

"Well" Barry quickly thought of something to say, hoping it would work, "I just so happen to be a forensic scientist! Best in the business, actually! So if you let me through that door and tunnel right there I can help you with that investigation!"

"You're not hearing me, sir" the policeman scowled, "The investigation is not about who kidnapped her, the investigation is about where her kidnapper went!"

"Well can you tell me where?"

"The giant battleship was last spotted heading towards Wave Ocean, and we believe towards the Dusty Desert part of the island after that. However, both areas are blocked off from public - that means you - entrance for the time being."

"So you guys are blocking off the area where your monarch's been brought to as a captive, instead of going in to rescue her?"

"Hey" the Policeman, clearly irritated with such sass, proceeded to 'bark' out "I don't tell you how to do your 'detective' job, you don't tell us how to do ours! Besides, rescue operations are G.U.N. and the blue wind's forte!"

Well I hate these guys already.

"You guys do know that a forensic scientist is different from a detective, right?"

"Does the difference matter?" the guard responded, "You guys both do practically the same thing, investigate stuff! All you do is work with DNA, and all a detective does is work with clues! Same difference!"

I want to slap this guy so hard right now, but I'd be arrested.

"The point is, I'm technically a cop just like you and your friends" Barry glared at the man, "From Central City, granted, but as you just said - same difference."

The guardsman once again scowled at Barry for his remark, with his arms crossed as well. It was evident that he did not take kindly to such 'disrespect', though also evident there wasn't much he could or felt like doing about it. Eventually the other man grunted and spoke to Barry in a somewhat defeated yet also still very disrespectful tone of voice:

"Alright, you can proceed to the castle town. On one condition."

"What condition?"

"If you can guess who the captain of the guard is, we'll let you through."

The smirk on the guardsman's face, as well as the snickering from the others, betrayed just how 'seriously' these men actually took their jobs. Barry likely did notice those looks, but there wasn't much he could do about it - other than give a look of both lack of surprise as well as complete boredom with this entire vacation.

Next time Iris and I talk about vacation spots, I'm being clear with her about never going back here again.

Barry rolled his eyes. If he had his powers he would just run along the water to the other side of the island, completely ignoring the 'bull' of these incompetent buffoons. However, while the Flash could do that in seconds, Barry Allen wasn't precisely capable of it. He would have to improvise in order to get anything done here.

"Let me take an educated guess here, are you the captain?" he said, unamused, pointing directly at the guard who presented the idea to him. For some reason, all of them found this entire thing incredibly hilarious. After recovering from bursting into laughter:

"Guess again!"

"Any of the guys behind you?"

Unfortunately for Barry, they all responded accordingly:

"No!"

"Nope!"

"Not me!"

Oh. My. God.

Barry now understood why Batman never worked with the police much outside of commissioner Gordon. He completely understood Bruce's distrust now. As a fellow cop, at least technically, he was beyond ashamed of these so-called men of the force. However, being powerless he had little choice but to go along with their ridiculous game which he knew damn well was for the most part, purely for their amusement. He hoped dearly that if he did find the captain, that there would be discipline for these guys - but something told him this was routine behaviour for Soleanna's police.

For at least a full hour and a half, Barry yet again found himself wandering the streets of Soleanna's New City district - this time looking for members of it's royal guard police force in order to ask where the 'captain' was. He tended to receive one of the follow responses from those he did manage to talk with:

"The captain? I think that guy's over there!"

"You mean that guy?"

"Oh yeah, I'm the Captain! Captain of being awesome!"

"I believe the captain has door guarding duty at the moment. At least, I think he does."

"The captain? Not me!"

"Not me!"

"That is not me."

"That's not me."

"Have you tried looking over there?"

By the end of it all, Barry's eye was twitching and his face locked in complete, total frustration. He found it incredibly hard to believe that such people were qualified for a position as important as defending the city, the country, the monarchy and most important of all the civilians. In his own thoughts:

These people aren't qualified to protect a slice of pizza!

Returning to the guards that he had first run to while also being absolutely tired, he glared at them as if he wanted to punch them - which he did - while they were still finding excessive humor in his misery. The guard who made him go on the search for the captain was the first to break from laughter just to ask him in a mocking tone:

"Do you have any clue who the captain is yet, forensic scientist?"

"No" Barry said, scowling at the man with incredibly intense anger - though said anger was ignored by the so-called 'police', who only mocked him with one more sentence:

"Well, maybe you should try taking DNA samples! Isn't that what you're people are good at?"

The bursts of laughter that succeeded that 'joke' did not help alleviate Barry's anger. Quite the contrary actually.

How the hell did these idiots get their jobs?

Thankfully for Barry, the laughter did not last long. Not long after it began in fact, did the door behind the guards open, revealing yet again the tunnel connecting the New City to the Castle Town district. Sighing of relief as the confused guards walked off to the side, Barry was ready to see what he could do about the ongoing situation of Elise's kidnapping. That is, until some unexpected burst of wind - or speed, really - flew right past him and knocked him straight to the ground.

Recovering himself quickly, Barry could see that this burst of speed was none other than Sonic - who had come speeding out of Castle Town and only broke from his running seemingly to take in the environment of the New City district.

Barry could see Sonic was not alone, however. Since the memories of this timeline hadn't begun to kick in yet, he did not recognize the figure who was following after the blur however. A yellow furred fox, with shining blue eyes, red-white shoes, white gloves and most uniquely of all two tails - that he could evidently use to fly somehow as Barry saw him clearly using them to lift himself just slightly off the ground to keep up with Sonic himself.

Barry took only a few seconds to process this newly introduced person before remembering with a speedster he had to make his introductions quick:

"Sonic? Sonic!" he exclaimed, before trying to head over to the blue, four foot tall Hedgehog and the even less tall fox. Luckily for him, he did in fact gain Sonic's attention:

"What's up?" the Hedgehog greeted, rather casually all things considered.

I'm talking to a four foot tall, talking, thing that is supposedly a Hedgehog. This is real. I am not on drugs. I am not hallucinating. This'll all be normal to me in the near future.

"I'm Barry Allen" Barry decided it was best to be upfront with Sonic, whom he was still having trouble believing was not a drug hallucination, "I'm a forensic scientist from Central City, and I know this may be sudden and out of the blue, but I want to help you with saving Princess Elise."

There was a moment of silence between all three parties involved in the conversation, though this was broken by Sonic himself:

"Well Barry, I'm Sonic, Sonic the Hedgehog!" Sonic's words were complete with a signature thumbs up, before he turned to the fox standing beside him, "And this here is Tails, my best bud!"

"Hi!" Tails casually waved, Barry returned the gesture, though in a nervous manner considering he still found it hard to believe any of this was really happening.

"And as for you helping me save Elise" Sonic remarked, "I appreciate the gesture but unless you got some powers, you'll probably just get lost in my dust!"

Barry wanted to say something, though knew damn well that unless he regains his powers, the hedgehog has a point. A very accurate point.

"That, actually is a fair point, to be honest."

"Heh, don't feel bad about it though. Not your fault you're not the fastest thing alive!"

Oh, you're gonna eat those words when I get my powers back.

Barry held back the explanation of who he was. The payback for that line would come. Just not now.

"Fair, fair enough" Barry held in his urges quite well, "But, before you go, can you at least tell me if you've had any luck yet?"

"Well, I kinda did actually" Sonic revealed, explaining the events Barry had unfortunately missed out on, "Me and Tails rescued her out in the desert, even fought a giant dog robot! Got her out of the desert just fine, but then some crazy dude attacked me out of nowhere! Said I destroyed his world, luckily Amy was there to help hold him off but Eggman kidnapped Elise again. Now I gotta go to the warehouse district to meet with Knuckles, he says he has information as to where Eggman took Elise off to!"

I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume Knuckles and Amy are more talking animals I'd normally write off as Darkseid or Zoom having injected me with crack or bath salts or something.

"Do you know where the warehouse district is, Barry?" Tails asked, "We've never been here before, and honestly this city can be pretty hard to navigate."

"You're telling me, Tails" Sonic snarked, "Just to get through the door I had to guess who the captain of the guard was!"

"You too?" Barry was absolutely stunned, "They did that to me like just a few minutes ago! I don't know what kind of police force they have around here!"

"Tell me about it!"

"But, why didn't you just run around them, like, on the water or something? Wouldn't you be fast enough?"

"Oh" Sonic rubbed the back of his quills, suddenly becoming visibly nervous as he explained why said event didn't happen, "Long story, but me and water don't precisely get along."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah."

"Ahem, guys?" Tails gained back both of their attention, "The warehouses?"

"Right, sorry" Barry replied before turning his eye contact back to Sonic, "From what I remember from my own hours wandering around this place, all you gotta do is head that way" he pointed directly to what was the north, "No turns, and-"

With a single burst of wind followed by the sound of two tails swishing around to keep up, Barry knew the speedster had already dashed off. Looking in the direction he pointed off to, he could only see the blue blur of Sonic's dashing speed for only a few seconds before it dissipated. He then let out a sigh, wishing he could help with his own speed. Instead he could only walk in the direction he pointed to, though he figured by the time he arrived at the warehouses Sonic, Tails and apparently 'Knuckles' would all be long gone and moving on in their adventure without him.

It's bad enough this timeline doesn't have any of the faces or names I remember aside from Iris.

But this is just rubbing salt on the wound.

Barry would have kept walking through the streets of the New City district, had he not been distracted by a noise coming from a lone alleyway, shrouded in the darkness of the buildings towering into the sky above. The noise was like a loud, metallic clang, loud enough to gain his attention - though in a city district with no automobiles that wasn't hard. Barry assumed it had been a garbage lid, or something metallic in nature, hitting one of the building walls in the alley. Though, all he could see was darkness.

Pitch, black, darkness.

Swallowing a bit due to an eerie, cold feeling running down his spine, Barry tried to turn away and resume walking. That was however, when a voice spoke to him. From the darkness of the alley.

"Such a pity, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

Turning to the voice to see who was talking to him, even stepping closer - to the edge of the darkness though not a single step closer, all Barry could see now were the eyes of some person or creature standing before him. Eyes emerging from the shadow - bright, emerald green, and reptilian in nature.

"Such a pity to remember a past that no longer exists" the figure to whom the eyes belonged to spoke, "And to be a misfit in the present that you created. Is it not, Flash?"

"How do you know about that? And how do you know my identity?"

"Oh, I know many things, Mr. Allen."

"Who. Are. You?"

"I'm someone who can help you accomplish precisely what you want, and more."

"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to trust some creepy guy in an alley who says that." turning away, Barry was yet again going to walk away, though the figure proved quite persistent.

"Wouldn't it be delightful if you could go back to your previous timeline, with the knowledge you have now?"

Hearing those words. Hearing that idea. Seeing the imagery in his mind. It got him to at least turn back to the pair of eyes in the alley, with a confused yet inquisitive face. He didn't fully believe such a thing was capable, but figured a being who knows of his previous timelines at all was at least worth listening to. However, giving it thought and remembering what he knows about his flashpoints, he was quick to attempt a debunking of the idea:

"That's, that's impossible." he said, "The mere act of time travelling causes ripples that affect everything around it. If you, or I, tried to go back to that timeline, it wouldn't work. It would be a completely different timeline no matter what."

"That is true" the figure admitted, only to follow up bluntly, "If you time travel as sloppily as you do."

"Sloppily?"

"It is true that time is not entirely linear." the figure explained, "Though even the most unruly fan blade or flat surface can be straightened out with a firm enough hand. Time is much like a plate of food. Your method of traversing the stream of time is to smash the entirety of the plate into your face, when it is much cleaner to instead use precision, devouring one piece at a time using the proper utensil."

"What, what exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying" the figure then allowed the darkness from around itself to reveal its full form. It did not step closer or anything of the sort, rather the shadows seemed to actually recede from the being on their own accord, perhaps on the commands of the figure itself. The whole scene made an even colder chill run down Barry's spine.

Then came the creature's appearance. It resembled a hedgehog, of the Sonic variety, though it had two quills which were curved. It was also mostly a deep black in coloration, with pale blue stripes on the quills, arms and legs - as well as a puff of white fur on the chest. Pale metallic rings around it's gloves, and more complicated shoes that seemed to be of the advanced technology variety.

Most pressing of all however, was the fact that upon this creature's pale skinned muzzle, was no mouth. Barry wanted to bring it up, but he felt it unwise to do so.

As if knowing what Barry was going to ask next, the being introduced itself:

"Allow me to introduce myself, Flash. I am Mephiles. Mephiles the Dark."

"Mephiles…"

I really wish Constantine were here right now so he could tell me if this guy is like Raven or like Trigon.

"What" Barry nervously said, trying to keep himself from shaking too much, "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing, at the moment" Mephiles spoke, without a mouth his intentions were impossible for Barry to read, "There is quite literally nothing Barry Allen could potentially offer me, though is quite a lot that I could offer you."

"Like, what?"

"For one, I could give you the chance you want. A happier ending. I could give you a chance to go back to your own timeline, to warn your friends of the mistake they are about to make, to save your nephew and his friends from their cruel fates. All without the sloppy changes you brought up not too long ago."

"You're bluffing."

"I assure you, I am not."

Mephiles then held out a hand in front of Barry, and within his hand came a sphere of dark indigo energy, surrounded by what appeared to be blackened electricity. Barry flinched at first, though soon peered into this ball of dark energy - within moments, he gasped. He was actually looking at the main room of the Watchtower, the headquarters of the Justice League. Bruce, Clark and Diana were informing him and the rest of the League about the plan to assault Apokolips, while also briefing the Teen Titans about it remotely as well. The scene in the sphere looked like it was directly from Barry's own eyes as well - he remembers everything. Clark, Bruce and Diana's positioning, Clark slamming his fist down to show how serious he was about the attack, Constantine's skepticism about it. Everything was there.

In a moment of desperation, Barry snatched at the energy ball - though Mephiles pulled his hand back just as he did so, with the ball of memories disappearing with him. Barry was now on the ground of the alleyway, peering up at Mephiles from beneath - all he had were Mephiles' green eyes to gauge his intentions with. Still, Barry was too shocked to say anything other than:

"How did you do that?"

"You're not the only one who can travel through time" Mephiles explained, "Using speed to do the job is far too sloppy. I use far more precise methods."

"And, you can put me back into that timeline?"

"Complete with your memory and all, yes. It will be just like you came into it from a portal. Seamless, precise. As though a God made it happen."

Wally...Wallace...Iris...Conner...Billy...Barbara...Hal...Zatanna...Everyone...

"Then do it" Barry's tone changed to one of pure determination as he stood up, attempting to tower over Mephiles - though the mysterious being seemed to not be intimidated, "Do it now."

"Patience" Mephiles told him, "There is plenty of time for you to return, the moment is not going anywhere, and thanks to your prior adjustments to time travel neither are your memories."

Closing his eyes, Barry took a deep breath. All he could muster the will to say was:

"I can't help you do much of anything without my powers."

"Oh" Mephiles nonchalantly remarked, "I am quite aware. However, I can not help you to restore them here. It is best we retire to a domain of mine where such a feat is more easily done."

With that having been said, Mephiles gestured to what was at first merely the other end of the alleyway - a dead end of brick and mortar. However, within seconds a far larger sphere of dark energy appeared - soon turning into what was recognizable to Barry as a portal, more often referred to by him as a 'boom tube'. Mephiles gestured for him to walk inside of it, though as soon as Barry did he was pelted by second thoughts:

At first, his reasoning was simple. A chance to save both of his nephews. A chance to save Superboy, Wonder Girl, Beast Boy, Blue Beetle, Batgirl, Zatanna and all the other heroes that those horrible monsters slaughtered. A chance to restore the world to the state he remembered.

But then, he thought about it longer.

Just before entering the portal, he remembered. This timeline was, to him, brand new. In a few hours, if not sooner, he might begin to gain his memories of it, and everything of it will be , Tails, possibly even Mephiles. It will all be normal to him, and he will vividly remember all that he missed out on.

Absence of evidence doesn't always mean evidence of absence.

Clark, Bruce, Hal, even the Titans. They all could very well exist in this timeline for all he knew. Just not relevant enough to appear in books. The only ones he knew did not exist yet were Wally and Wallace, who simply haven't been born yet. Perhaps Clark is even light years away on a surviving krypton. Who would he be to bring them back to their previous selves, thrusting them back into a war with that monstrous dictator. A war in which, as he witnessed himself, did not end well for many of them.

With further thought, his answer was clear.

"No."

He stopped in his tracks, virtually one step away from actually walking into the portal. He turned to Mephiles almost defiantly, explaining to the mysterious being:

"I created one timeline out of my own selfishness. I don't know if versions of my friends exist here or not, but who am I to ruin any of their lives by dragging them back into that stupid war? I don't care what you're offering me, I'd rather become the Flash on my own and let whatever versions of my friends who are here live their lives in peace."

As Barry yet again stormed off, Mephiles could only softly laugh, before speaking to Barry just as he was one step out of the alleyway.

"I thought you might say that, Mr. Allen. Have you forgotten how your many 'flashpoint' timelines have ended?"

Oh No…

"Oh yes" Mephiles remarked, "Let's see, the first one you created had two warring factions decimate both each other and the entire planet, killing millions in the process. The second one you created ended up conquered and utterly decimated by a certain warlord from across the galaxy, if I'm not mistaken. Either way, both timelines ended in complete and utter disaster - and there's not much guarantee that wouldn't have happened even in your original timeline at some point either. So what precisely makes you think that it wouldn't happen this time?"

Barry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, even clenching his fists before responding to the demon:

"Because...there is no Trigon. There is no Darkseid. The only alien invaders here were single handedly destroyed by one person already. This timeline seems pretty safe to me."

"Safe? Is that so?"

"From what I can see, yes."

"Well then, I implore you to take a closer look."

With Mephiles gesturing once again back at the portal he had created, Barry walked a few steps closer and peered his eyes closer into its light. Soon, a grizzly sight materialized into it. A city. One not too different from Metropolis or Gotham, or even Soleanna. Completely destroyed. It's surely once prosperous skyscrapers and high-rises are either damaged, destroyed, or even leaning. Water replaced with lava, entire tornadoes of fire running amuck through the ruins of what was surely once a land teeming with life and activity - though now only death and destruction.

There was no sign of life.

Only destroyed cars. Destroyed buildings. Massive canyons of what were once highways and streets, filled with lava and fire. Demonic beings made of molten rock and magma roamed the streets as well as the skies - ensuring any survivors would dare not venture too far outside.

Barry looked upon this sight with horror. His jaw dropped. His legs, his body backing away from it. All he could muster up the courage to say was spoken very weakly, his entire body shaking as he let it out of his mouth:

"Please, don't tell me…"

"Yes" Mephiles was blunt about the truth, "This is the future of this timeline, if you and I do nothing to prevent this from occurring. Just like all of the others."

Barry was completely and utterly silent for what felt like an eternity, even if it was only a few short moments.

Just when he had thought this timeline was finally going to be one in which there was just peace and happiness.

He learned that he was wrong.

Still shaking, he turned to Mephiles, and all he asked was but one simple question:

"What can we do to prevent this?"

"Follow me."

It was only two words, but with those two words Mephiles stepped into the portal to the 'future' and disappeared into it - the vision of the ruined city's skyline disappearing back into the void of energy as he did so.

Barry however, hesitated. In his mind, countless thoughts about what he was doing and who he was putting his trust into raced through his mind - though a few thoughts and internal debates stood out amongst all of the others.

He's the only being that might be able to help me stop Darkseid without so much horror and death.

He's clearly a demon, how do I know he's not just lying to me about everything?

Even if I decide to stay here, this timeline might be doomed too if I don't do something about it. Assuming what I saw was what he said he was, and after him showing me my last timeline, should I even doubt him at all?

Is this a gamble I want to risk taking?

I suppose yes, yes it is.

And so, Barry took his chances and walked after Mephiles into the unknown. Disappearing into the void of the time portal with it vanishing just seconds after he did so - leaving the entire scene looking as though nothing had happened at all, besides a small cool breeze through the alley that displaced a few newspapers that had long since been thrown to the ground.

Barry had little idea of the part he was playing in the grand scheme of things, or who was putting all of the pieces of this puzzle together.

All he knew was that he wanted to do the right thing.

________________________________________________________________

It can't be…

Please tell me this isn't happening to me again…

Standing on the edge of a cliff, Barry fell to his knees. Eyes widened in shock. Lips quivering. Everything he was seeing, was exactly why he didn't want to open his eyes when he first arrived. This was the very thing he was afraid of.

The future.

All around him, now life sized, was what remained of a long since destroyed city. Entire streets caved in like massive canyons, alited by the fiery magma from the center of the planet, rising up to serve as massive rivers through the landscape. The sky was a mix of blood red and charcoal black, reflecting the lava and joined by the suffocating smoke rising to take the place of clouds. Skyscrapers, High Rises, Houses, everything of the sort was all left in ruins. Some buildings were flat out destroyed, others slanting, others with massive holes within them, others just now finally collapsing into dust or falling over for good.

There was no sign of life that Barry could see that wasn't some type of flying or land dwelling demon made of molten rock. None of them seemed to pay him or Mephiles any mind, though they clearly relished in setting ablaze anything they could.

As he gazed upon this future, all Barry could think was how unfair it all was.

What did I do to deserve this? He thought, I just wanted to save my mother's life! I just wanted to save the world!

Mephiles, standing behind Barry, seemed to know precisely what he was thinking with the words he said to him next:

"Amazing how unfair and unforgiving time seems to be, is it not? Just when you believe you're living in paradise, it all comes tumbling down. Such is life, so they say."

"Why?" Barry asked, "Why does this have to happen?"

"There is no real reason why any of this happens" Mephiles explained, standing next to Barry now, "Time itself has no sentient mind capable of any reasoning. It's all just a series of rather unfortunate events. A game of russian roulette, as your previous timelines' people would put it."

Barry's eyes scanned across the landscape one more time before turning back over to Mephiles. Still recovering from the revelation of yet another doomed timeline, all Barry could bring himself to say was:

"What is it you said about fixing this?"

As if expecting this, Mephiles responded casually - as though he knew far more than Barry had counted on:

"There is only one way to prevent this from happening. You will have to destroy the person responsible for causing this future. And before you say it, no, it is not yourself."

"Then who is it?"

"Allow me to show you" Mephiles then began to walk away from Barry, looking back only to gesture for him to follow. Barry, having no one else to turn to and nowhere else to go, complied to the gesture - following the entity through what remained of a once bustling city.

Along the way to wherever Mephiles was taking the depowered hero, was an extended look at the carnage that was set to destroy this timeline.

Barry's spine shivered with all that he saw. Boarded up buildings. Busted windows. Empty, rusted and long out of use cars. Entire blocks of street aflame with no water to put any of it out. Most horrifyingly of all, he could make out charred human, animal and even 'hybrid' corpses alike among the rubble - just barely visible due to how their blackened remains blended with the piles of ash and debris.

While in the previous timeline he was spared the sight of what Darkseid did to earth, when he did finally see what was left it was not much different from this.

With only the ambience of the dead city and it's demon destroyers chiming along with his and Mephiles' footsteps, there was nothing much to distract Barry's mind from beginning to envision the bodies of his fallen comrades of the previous timeline with every body that he found.

Several bodies he saw were hanging from the balconies of rooftops, being torn apart and eaten like roasted meat by a flock of those large, flaming bat-like demons that dominated the airs of this horrible world. Immediately, Barry's eyes began to water as he remembered the fates of Hal Jordan, Barbara Gordon, Zatanna, and even Shazam at the hands of the abominations that the sadistic beast of a so-called 'new god' had named 'Paradooms'. When he looked at those demons, he saw in this mind the Paradooms. When he looked at the corpses, they became his friends. He became mortified.

Another body he saw had it's head twisted, neck completely destroyed due to being forced to turn almost completely in the opposite direction. In addition to being charred black by the flames and ashes surrounding itself and its environment. Barry couldn't help but think of Conner, the young Superboy. He had hardly spent more than a few years experiencing the world before his time was cut short but one of those monstrosities, his neck snapped as though he was nothing. There was not even time to mourn him.

I'm so sorry...

The various other bodies around reminded him of various others as they were littered throughout the streets. Jaime Reyes, Donna Troy, Roy Harper, Karen Beecher, Garfield Logan. All of them did not have specific injuries, though in Barry's mind as he saw the corpses of this timeline's dead he could only become more horrified as his brain forced the images of their corpses lying about in their place. All of them heroes, none of them deserving of their fates.

Please, forgive me...

That's when he saw things which made him stop. Two corpses, barely protruding out from the rubble of the various debris. In reality, they were too charred for any identity to be discerned. In Barry's mind however, they became his cherished nephews - the two Kid Flashes. The two who followed in his footsteps, who were set to carry his legacy. They were, both dead. From Wallace's mouth was just a bit of blood, and Wally's face was looking directly at his uncle with a face of shock.

Upon seeing them, Barry lost all focus on following Mephiles and ran to the two of them - now on the verge of crying.

No, no no no…

Going to his nephews' sides, Barry scooped their corpses into his arms and embraced them tightly. Not wanting to ever let them go, he closed his eyes and let his sobs be released from the bottom of his heart. They were not just his sidekicks or proteges. They were his family. He was supposed to protect them. Yet here they were, both lying dead. As hard and as tightly as he held them, they did not spring to life. They did not utter a single word. They remained motionless, silent. Cold. Gone.

Placing their bodies gently to the ground of the city's ruined streets, Barry could only continue sobbing inconsolably as he placed his hands to his eyes.

We knew the risks...

That doesn't make the pain go away…

Soon, Barry could feel a hand on his shoulder. Letting reality turn to what it was, and the bodies return to being anonymous corpses in a sea of fire and despair, Barry looked up to see Mephiles looking directly at him once more.

"I know it hurts" the being spoke, Barry now looking back at the bodies to see the reality of what he was holding, Mephiles continuing on, "Being cursed with the memories of such a nightmare. However, let it be your motivation. With it and my assistance, you just may be able to prevent such a fate from happening to your dearest loved ones again. As you can see, you're still quite in danger of that happening as we speak."

Barry closed his eyes, letting his hands leave from his face and instead clenched them into a fist. He took deep breaths, letting his sadness leave from his body as he soaked in the reality of what Mephiles was saying.

There was a large part of him that still did no want to trust this being, though based on Mephiles' far more controlled version of time travel and his knowledge of what Barry thought was permanently erased from the pages of time, he figured that if anyone was going to help accomplish anything it would be him.

He just hoped he had his faith in the right place.

Barry turned to Mephiles and gave a silent nod, his face attempting to be without emotion - though he still mourned for all of those lost on the inside.

Mephiles returned the silent nod, and with only a few seconds of looking back at the two disfigured corpses, Barry got up and resumed the long, silent walk. This time, kept his eyes square on the street, making sure they never strayed far away from directly ahead of him, directly onto his feet, or directly on Mephiles.

Darkseid might be long gone.

But the wounds he's inflicted are still fresh.

Though it took hours of traversing the ruined, hellish landscape of what was once a vibrant and healthy world, eventually it was clear to both Mephiles and Barry that their destination had been reached. While Barry's legs had begun to ache due to the long trek through both ash-filled streets and near-volcanic soil, Mephiles seemed perfectly fine. It was also apparent that with all of the dark fire dominating the sky outside, there was no way of knowing for sure what time of day it was or how much time their walk had actually taken.

Not that Barry cared. He wanted to make sure this nightmare never happened.

He was still waiting for the reveal as to how that could be done.

When Barry did begin paying attention more to his surroundings, he saw that he was no longer outside where even the rain seemed to be particles of fire or volcanic rock falling down upon his head - instead he was inside of some aged, abandoned building. He and Mephiles' footsteps both became metallic clangs due to the floor being nothing but a metallic surface. Doors were all effectively broken, and when they weren't fully collapsed or leaning off their hinges they creaked very noticeably whenever moved even slightly - if they moved at all.

Brown, crusted rust was present on virtually everything - and often joined by exuberant amounts of dust. Even the floors had enough mold and grime on them to leave any reflection beyond proper comprehension.

The lights, there were hardly any. Barry could now hardly see Mephiles at all as they traversed the hallway of this mysterious facility - there was just barely enough light to tell where he was. He now truly had to be sure to keep an eye on the being in order to have any direction at all.

What is this place?

What was this place?

Barry did not have to think about the past of this strange facility long though, for soon Mephiles walked into a room with actual light emitting from it - and Barry followed in. The light was not from an actual light fixture but rather from a large computer monitor that despite all of the odds still seemed to be functioning perfectly. It gave the room a blue-green tint to it, but at the very least Barry could see both himself and Mephiles far more clearly than within the dark hallways.

Mephiles did not waste any time with talking, instead he went directly to the keyboard beneath the monitor and began inputting various characters into the machine. Barry watched, though he remained silent he had a massive plethora of questions about what was going on. At the very least, Mephiles did explain:

"Here are my records of the event that caused all of this to happen. The day of disaster."

Barry's attention was pulled towards the monitors as various information popped up onto it. Articles. Headlines. Video clips. Images. The works.

The first image that Barry noticed was a photograph of the Egg Carrier, the battleship that 'Dr. Eggman' owns. The next image was accompanied by an article, and seemed to show a massive ball of flame in the center of Soleanna, with all of Castle Town being set ablaze. All of it said the same thing - the flames destroyed the world. The flames of disaster. The flames of a being known only as Iblis.

"Iblis" Barry muttered as he analyzed all of the articles. All of the images. As he repeated that name in his head, he knew what word meant. He had learned long ago what it stood for in Arabic, and Damian would say it a few times himself. He knew well enough that if a beast was nicknamed that, said beast was not good news.

Iblis….the flames of disaster…

"So, Iblis, destroyed the world?"

"Technically speaking, yes" Mephiles explained, "But he did not destroy it alone. Someone released him, unleashing him to take part in the destruction of this world."

"And who would that person be?"

"The Iblis Trigger is what they call him" with a bit more typing on Mephiles' part, a single, large image was brought onto the screen - this time the figure was clear and in color. "But most people knew him, as Shadow the Hedgehog."

When Barry looked upon the photograph of Shadow, his eyes widened. He looked exactly like Mephiles. He was a hedgehog, about the same height as Sonic, and had curled quills with stripes on them - as well as his arms and legs. The cuffs of his gloves, the advanced shoes, all of it was the same. The only difference was in the fact that Shadow had a mouth, had normal eyes of a red coloration, and his stripes were also red instead of the pale blue sported by the entity that Barry was standing in the same room with. Of course, the similarity between the two still had to be addressed:

"He looks, almost exactly like you."

"Yes" Mephiles coldly remarked, "He does."

"I'm taking it that this is going in the direction of me having to defeat Shadow?"

"You're taking it correctly, yes."

"Well, what can you tell me about him before I go off to do that?"

"Shadow the Hedgehog" Mephiles said as he turned to the monitor, "The Ultimate Lifeform. Created on the Space Colony ARK approximately 250 years from this current point in time, 50 years from the present we recently left. The full story behind his creation remains hidden in both classified and destroyed government documents, but it is certain that G.U.N. funded and supervised the project during the entirety of it - and that the late alien warlord Black Doom also had a level of involvement at some stage."

"I see…"

I had a bad feeling about G.U.N. from the moment I read about them.

"In addition" Mephiles quickly stated, "His creator, Professor Gerald Robotnik, was in death the mastermind behind a plot to crash the Space Colony ARK into planet earth - a plot which Shadow himself supported. It should come to no surprise that when the day of disaster occurred, those who survived were quick to turn their blame onto Shadow himself."

"So, if I take out Shadow, I stop this future from happening?"

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"Alright, so, where is he?"

Mephiles laughed at Barry's brash remark, turning to him while still finding humor in his statement. His immediate response was a very blunt:

"You're not going to take on Shadow in your current state. He would make mincemeat out of you in seconds, if what he accomplished with the Black Comet is any indication."

"Fair enough" Barry admitted, with a slight nod, "I'll need to get my powers back, but it doesn't seem like there's any rain or lightning going on in this world, how are we going to recreate the experiment?"

"Oh, I have my ways."

Barry soon learned to at least partially regret agreeing to Mephiles' method of getting his powers back - though it wasn't as though there was much in the way of other options.

There he was, strapped down to a cold, metallic table. Held onto it only by leather straps. Due to the room being poorly lit - only illuminated by dimmed red lights - he was unable to see much of his surroundings, only able to make out the vague shapes of various machinery and test tubes around him. He could not even see where his so-called 'helper' was. Though hearing his voice was enough to reassure Barry that he was in fact in the room:

"Remember. This is necessary."

"This, this isn't how my experiment went."

"I know." Mephiles remarked, "Though it would take far too long to locate a thunderstorm that would help you."

"But, don't you have hyper advanced time travel powers?"

Despite Barry telling the truth, he received no response. As he looked around to try and see where Mephiles was in the room, all he could see was a purple gemstone floating in the air - it's color being seen by him due to it glowing brightly as it was released into the air, presumably by Mephiles himself. Barry focused on it, and was able to see it was similar to the shape of the emerald the princess had prior to her kidnapping. At least, he made that out moments before it began to electrocute him.

From the moment the gem's energy surges began to strike his body just as the lightning strikes that typically give him his powers, Barry couldn't help but scream and writhe in pain and agony. His reflexes and instincts fought to break from the restraints as his clothes, hair and flesh were being seared by the continuous blasts of pure chaos emerald energy. It was a pain far worse and agonizing than a mere lightning strike.

Mephiles, for his part, only watched. The being sporting no mouth, his level of enjoyment could not be read. Though he did absolutely nothing to soothe Barry's pain.

Barry could not even form cohesive thoughts during this grueling process. All he could think about it was how much it hurt. Whatever energy was coming from this 'emerald', it was not normal. It was not anything he had studied or read about. It was far too painful, burning away at everything it touched on his body as though it were acid. And he was completely, utterly defenseless.

Barry's body was absolutely destroyed. There seemed to be almost nothing left of his skin not long into the 'experiment'. It all looked like bleeding, inflamed muscles and fibers. In some spots, even the bones appeared to be visible. What skin did remain, was scorched by what looked like the most extreme case of chemical burns imaginable. His hair was virtually destroyed, only small particles of it remained.

Even so, the 'treatment' continued. Mephiles remained silent during the entire ordeal, and did not seem to even consider pausing it, despite Barry's loud and agonizing screams likely echoing out well into the hallway.

There was nobody there to help him, however.

Only Mephiles.

He who had organized this.

All Barry could do is continue scream, whimper and groan in pain as the emerald continued to pelt his unprotected body with it's pure energy surges. It was amazing that he was able to move at all still, though the mere act of doing so caused him only further pain at this stage.

He could feel his own blood forming a puddle underneath his back, pouring like a stream down to the floor beneath him. It stung every time his flesh touched it. Like the wrath of a powerful hornet, though the emerald's burns were still far worse.

Though granted, the latter weren't stopping.

With the table becoming increasingly like a frying pan, with him as the main course being cooked upon it, he was sure of it.

This was the end.

His gruesome, horrific ending.

Or at least,for any normal mortal being it would be. Not for the Flash.

One final, massive surge of chaos energy flowed through the room and completely destroyed it in a fiery explosion. The test tubes and beakers. The table, and seemingly Barry himself were all destroyed in an instant by the blast. All except for Mephiles himself. He remained unaffected, and as the smoke cleared the emerald itself lowered into his hand. The room was now pitch black, completely caked in darkness save for Mephiles' glowing green eyes and the purple emerald that had seemingly roasted Barry alive.

Without saying a single word, Mephiles walked out from the room and into the more moderately lit hallway, only stopping the moment he left the room. Turning back to face the entrance to the room, he saw the outcome of his 'experiment'.

Barry.

Still, shockingly, alive.

As well as healing.

His skin was still badly burned at this stage, though the bulk of his flesh had grown back - and was doing so rather rapidly. He lacked his civilian clothing of course, those having been long burned to nothing, though at the very least his blonde hair was growing back steadily. From the way he was looking, it would be within the hour if not sooner that his body would be completely restored to normal.

Breathing heavily and still getting himself reorientated with the world, Barry turned to Mephiles the moment he spotted him in the dim lights of the hallway.

"What. Was. That." he said between deep breathes. A large part of him was still infuriated at what he had just gone through, even it was under the guise of restoring his powers.

"Pure chaos energy" Mephiles explained, holding the purple chaos emerald in his hand, "Generated by the Chaos Emerald. It has similar properties to your so-called 'speedforce', among other various energy sources from your previous timeline. Very few could survive the pure, chaotic blasts of it that you just took. Let alone have their powers restored."

Chaos Emeralds….those things that Eggman wants…

They're definitely worth studying more, but I need to stay focused...I need to find and have a 'chat' with that 'ultimate lifeform' character…

"Anyway" Barry said as he held his head with one hand as his flesh, skin and hair continued healing, "First, I'll need to make myself a new suit. Then, I suppose you'll have to take me to where Shadow is."

"Luckily, there is little need for complications with the latter of which you speak."

"What do you mean?"

"He happens to be here as we speak."

[musingsofsaturn]

Opening Up (Kristanna ‘Waitress’ AU) - Chapter Eight

[Masterlist for this fic]

Fandom: Frozen/Frozen II

Ship: Anna/Kristoff

Side Pairings: Anna/Hans, Elsa/Honeymaren, Bulda/Cliff

Chapters: 10/10 [COMPLETE]

Rating: M

This Chapter’s Rating: T for vague mentions of medical procedures

This Chapter’s Word Count: 1,500+

Summary:  Waitress and baker Anna Westergaard’s life changed forever when she discovered some startling news. Dr Kristoff Bjorgman didn’t anticipate liking his new patients quite as much as he did. For better or worse, the residents of the small town of Småby Bend were about to be changed forever.

Author’s Note:And nowwww.... the penultimate chapter of Opening Up! (You didn’t think I’d leave my loves suffering for long, did you?!)

~ Saturn

This picture is taken from Jenna’s Pie Palace - today’s recipe is called ‘Sweet Victory Pie’, which I thought was fitting for this chapter in particular!

As Anna drifted towards consciousness, she could hear the beeping of monitors and smell the unmistakably sterile scent of a hospital.

Her eyelids felt heavy and immobile, and her mind felt clouded and fuzzy. She was battling to collect her thoughts; what was the last thing she remembered? Her memories felt distant, and she struggled to reach them.

She had called the doctor’s office at Småby Bend, and in her desperation and panic had asked for the only person she could think of: Kristoff. It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours, but she could remember the relief that flooded her when she heard the front door open and quickly felt Kristoff’s strong arms around her. (Briefly, she’d thought how irresponsible it had been for Hans to leave the door unlocked.)

Kristoff had spoken to someone on the phone. She remembered the panic in his voice, even as he stroked her hair reassuringly. She had been in pain, so much pain. The pain was gone now, though.

Distantly, Anna recalled the sound of sirens, and blue lights flashing into the room through the window. Kristoff’s voice echoed in her memory as more people came into the house, “She’s in here! Hurry!” Then she’d been lifted and moved away.

Someone had been speaking to her, reassuring her, encouraging her to stay with them. And she tried, she really did, but she was so tired, and in so much pain, and all she wanted was Kristoff. In the end, she gave in to the urge to rest, and she allowed herself to slip away from reality. She only came to when she was being moved again.

She had heard voices, and she knew that people were discussing her. She couldn’t bring herself to care about it. It felt as though a hundred people had been poking at her, prodding at her, but it didn’t really bother her. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she recognised that they were trying to help.

Lastly, Anna felt a pinprick in her arm and a mask slid over her mouth and nose.

One thought eclipsed all the others. Baby. Was baby okay?

Her eyes fluttered open.

There was a nurse beside her, fiddling with the drip that was connected to her arm. Anna tried to get her attention. “H- hello…” Her voice was weak, and her throat was rasping and dry.

The nurse turned her attention to Anna, giving her a warm and reassuring smile as she saw her. “Ah, welcome back, Mrs. Westergaard! How are you feeling?”

“Just ‘Anna’. Please, just ‘Anna’.” Her eyes started to well with tears.

“Of course. Anna. I’m sorry.”

“Is- is my baby okay?”

Her mind still felt foggy, but she was starting to come to her senses. Anna felt the nurse take her hand gently. “Your baby is several weeks premature, and is a bit unhappy at having to come out early. But she’s receiving the best care we can give her, and is already in much better condition than she was.”

“‘She’?” The tears that had formed earlier now started to fall in earnest.

With a kind smile, the nurse confirmed, “Yes, Anna. You have a beautiful daughter. Congratulations.”

Anna’s tears of joy rolled down her cheeks, and she could feel her nose starting to run embarrassingly. She was a mother. And not just that, she had a daughter. A daughter who she already adored with all her being, without ever laying her eyes on her.

The nurse handed her a tissue, which she accepted with a shaking hand attached to limb that felt ridiculously heavy. “The surgeon wanted to speak to you when you woke up. Do you feel up to that?”

Anna nodded and the nurse pressed a button to the side of her bed. “My name is Yelena, by the way.”

The door opened and in strode a man in scrubs. Like Yelena, he had a reassuring smile, and his warm voice comforted Anna as he introduced himself as Doctor Mattias.

“Mrs Westergaard-”

“-Anna.” Yelena deftly corrected him before Anna even registered the need to.

“I apologise. Anna, when you arrived, you needed an emergency caesarean section, so you’ve been under general anaesthetic and you’re currently on a few painkillers as well. Are they working for you or do you need some more?”

“I’m fine, thank you. No pain at all.”

“Excellent.” He went on, “Your baby is very premature, as you’re aware. Premature babies can have a few complications, but we’re managing those as well as we can. Baby is in an incubator at the moment, because she’s finding it a bit difficult to regulate her temperature. She also struggled to breathe at first, so we did have to give her oxygen. She’s very small, but her condition is stable. We’re very happy with her progress, actually.”

Before Anna had the chance to breathe a sigh of relief, Doctor Mattias’ tone became even more serious. “Anna, the reason we had to do a c-section was because you were suffering a miscarriage when you were brought in. It was caused by severe stress and… a blow to your stomach. Your oxygen levels were very low, and you have severe bruising, particularly around your neck. We had concerns, and Doctor Bjorgman seconded them.

“Your husband is in police custody, Anna. On suspicion of physical assault, and attempted murder.”

Anna sucked in a shocked breath, and Yelena moved closer to ask, “Anna, this is a very difficult question to ask, and to answer, but we need to know. Did your husband cause your injuries?”

“Yes,” Anna admitted quietly.

She watched Yelena and Doctor Mattias exchange a glance. “Thank you for being honest with us,” Yelena said gently. “Do you want to press charges against him? You don’t have to commit to anything right away, we know this is a very big decision-”

“-It’s the easiest decision I think I’ve ever made. Yes, I want to press charges against him. But first, I want to sign some divorce papers.”

It didn’t happen the order she’d set out, but Anna didn’t mind. As soon as Doctor Mattias had confirmed that she was thinking clearly enough, two police officers were in the room, and she was able to tell her story at long last.

She detailed how it all started, with harsh words and restricting her freedoms. Within six months of their marriage, he’d taken her mobile phone, beaten down her self esteem to the point where her personality had altered, and had total financial control in their relationship.

Over the years, his abuse had escalated. She told the officers the truth; that her husband had slapped her, punched her, pulled her hair, and grabbed her frequently. Anna had become so familiar with the sensation of being beaten and dragged around that she had learned to dissociate from it. She barely felt the blows anymore, she said. She barely felt anything.

The police officers listened as she told them about the time that he choked her, and how convinced she was that he wanted to kill her. And then she explained the details of this most recent attack. She detailed the brutality of it, the extent of the injuries he’d caused her, and the fact that he’d left her to miscarry and die in their living room.

They took statements from Doctor Mattias about the necessity of her c-section, and the other injuries he’d noticed on Anna’s body. Photographs were taken of the bruises on her neck, and of her as she lay in the hospital bed, still weak.

Before they left, one of the officers looked deep into Anna’s eyes and told her, “There is so much evidence against him. We will see to it that he is locked away for a very long time. You’re safe now.”

Safe.

In recent months, there had been only one person who could make her feel safe. She wanted to see him. As if reading her mind, Yelena waited until the officers had left before saying, “Dr Kristoff Bjorgman arrived soon after you did. He’s been waiting to see you. Shall I send him in?”

Anna nodded, and Yelena disappeared, and Doctor Mattias followed. Soon after, Kristoff appeared around the doorframe.

“Kristoff,” she whispered, relief and joy flooding through her.

Taking in her appearance, her vulnerability and how weak she’d become, Kristoff’s eyes shone with tears. “Anna.”

She held a hand out to him, and he came closer to hold it. With a gentle tug, she pulled him closer to herself, placing her fingertips on his cheek. When they kissed, he was so incredibly gentle, as though she was as fragile and delicate as thin glass.

They pulled back, and she pressed her forehead to his. She could feel his breath on her face, and could hardly believe that she was here. She was a mother, and she had Kristoff, and she was safe.

In spite of everything she had been through, she felt immense happiness, and she couldn’t help but smile as she told him with certainty, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Anna. With all my heart.”

Next Chapter

[tiaragqueen]

Bun Bun: Prologue

Chapter 1

yandere bts masterlist | main masterlist

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

[Edited]

“In the beginning, some people try to appear that everything about them is "in black and white," until later their true colours come out.” - Anthony Liccione

          “The execution shall begin!”

          It was such a simple sentence; one that most people wouldn’t think twice about. In fact, many of them enjoyed watching the executioner beheaded criminals' heads. It was like a personal amusement for them; something that invoked satisfaction and, possibly, sadistic pleasure. The criminals' expressions varied from one person to another. Some terrified, some wailing, some struggling, and some emotionless.

          You didn’t judge people's preferences, though. Had you were in their position, you would certainly get the same satisfaction from seeing an evildoer disappear from this world. It wouldn’t change much. Crimes would definitely still exist - it was an intrinsic part of life and essential for laws to stay active because, without crimes, the police force would be useless - but at least it would discourage one person from acting on them.

          But this was different. Someone that you knew, someone that you were more than acquainted with, someone that you used to love, was the convict today. Watching the person, who had been an important figure in your life, being beheaded wasn't the same as watching an ordinary criminal.

          Your palms were clammy underneath the white gloves, and you contemplated the possibility of returning to the castle without anyone noticing. The execution had yet to start, but you were already dreading it more than listening to the court's decision regarding his death penalty. You were supposed to be anticipating this. Heck, you had even promised to your parents that you would attend. For the first time in twenty years, you were about to witness a cruel death with your very own eyes.

          So why were you hesitating now? Did you still have some feelings for him?

          No, you shook your head. Of course not. It was impossible. Ridiculous. Any lingering sentiment that you had for him died the moment you discovered just how malicious he could be. The betrayal and disbelief had stained the rose-colored lens who your naïve self had adopted during earlier years due to the circumstances you were in. Safe and sound. No crime or rumors ever reached your innocent ears, and your parents had made sure that you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the executions that occurred regularly.

          You had been in the dark for as long as you could remember. And had he didn’t show how terrifying an ordinary person – a gentleman – could be, then you would have lived up your day believing that the world was all rainbows and sunshine. Because why would you be evil, when you could spread kindness instead?

          Well, clearly not anyone shared the same opinion as you. Some people were just determined to achieve something, and you had never expected that you would be the target of that dogged determination. Sure, you were a princess and many envied you, but to be desired to the point of obsession?

          Sometimes, you just wanted to rip the stupid tiara from your head and pretended that you were an average peasant for once. But who were you to get that privilege? No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you wished upon the sky or the falling star, you could never be one.

          However, you kept hoping that maybe – in another lifetime, where everything wasn’t so complicated and strict and more manageable – you would be an average peasant that you always dreamed of.

          For now, you just had to deal with him. The one person who had scarred you for life and opened your eyes to the brutal reality. That absolutely anyone was capable of corrupting and be corrupted. Although you weren’t sure if you were ready to see his face again. How could you not? It's been a long time since the last time you saw him.

          Was he okay? Did he get torture in there? Had the reform for even the slightest bit?

          A tall young man, in his early twenties, climbed up the wooden stairway to the platform. Despite the two guards who were trailing close behind, and the townspeople who immediately threw insults at him like there was no tomorrow, his face remained stony. His body was much skinnier, to the point where you could see the bones protruding from the once bulky skin. His hair was dirty, littered with some dust that hung on the dark locks. Yet, his eyes were still cold as always. They reflected the derisive and angered faces of the townspeople like a deceptive mirror that showed their true, rotten selves.

          It was through those eyes too where you learned that not everyone was as kind as they appeared to be. That they only acted cordial either for the sake of gaining your favor or out of courtesy.

          And he had been one of them as well, although he insisted that his kindness was ‘real’. You knew you were fully aware, and you acknowledged it. The sincerity and affection that lit up his hollow irises whenever he saw you was far from fake. You can never be as happy when you meet someone unless you truly like them, especially in a royal world where everyone is pretending to be someone they're not.

          “He looks worse now,” you heard Rosé whispered beside you. She clutched the hem of her black apron, nervous about being in the same area with him although he was standing a good few meters away from her. Her fear was warranted, however, given his infamy in your kingdom.

          You threw her a glum glance, silently agreeing with your personal maid. You had no doubt that he often refused to eat if not the guards having some sort of a personal grudge against him.

          “I won’t eat,” he’d said during your first and last visit to his cell. “I will show you how much you turn me into this way.”

          It was unfair of him to put the blame on you because obviously, you couldn’t control other people’s feelings. But you knew that you had influence to this sudden change too, not that you would admit it out loud. It would only prove his statement - thus feeding his ego - and that was the last thing you wanted to hear from him.

          Jungkook stood with a hunched back in front of you, glassy eyes staring off the distance. What he thought about was a mystery, but you were sure that he didn’t repent on his sins or pondering over his inevitable death. In fact, you could safely say that he enjoyed being a criminal.

          That was just another proof of how messed up he was on the head.

          “Is there any last word, Jeon Jungkook?” the executioner's deep voice boomed.

          A hush fell over the boisterous crowd as they waited for his last answer. The last response that would either strengthen their convictions over his unforgivable actions or convince his innocence, however ridiculous it might sound. Regardless of his sudden decision to show a bit of humanity within him, Jungkook couldn’t miss the blade that glinted menacingly under the sun; the 175 pounds blade that would soon become the end of his life.

          If he had any, that is.

          Your breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on yours. His gaze was heavy, meant to condescend you despite your higher position. Like you were nothing more than a delicate doll to be dressed in pretty dresses and shoes. Somehow, you had a ridiculous hope that maybe he would overlook you within this sea of raging people.

          But of course, nobody can miss their loved ones even in a desert. It’s hard not to.

          A smirk graced his pale features, and you visibly tensed up. Despite his lanky figure and hollow cheekbones, he remained the same attractive boy you had met in the past. “I shall see you soon, Your Highness.”

          It was a promise, one that he would definitely carry out one way or another. How? You didn’t know. He would die within minutes anyway. But Jungkook wasn’t one to go back on his words, regardless of how ludicrous or absurd they might be.

          So, maybe, he believed in another lifetime. Just like you.

          Rosé gently grabbed your forearm in a comforting manner as you both watched the executioner raised the rope that held the weighted blade. There was no hesitation, no reluctance, and no lingering movements when Jungkook bowed down to place his head on the lunette. He was like a dutiful child, ready to face whatever consequences that befall him.

          And without further hesitation either, the executioner released the rope.

          You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the blade fell with a thud. Rosé whimpered as she hid her face on your side, unable to witness the cruelty of his death as well. Tears leaked from your eyelids and left wet trails along your powdered face. You didn’t know why you were crying when you should be happy that he was dead now.

          Perhaps, deep inside, you still harbored some feelings for him. You just refused to acknowledge them. But it was impossible, right? It had to be.

          After a few minutes, Rosé slowly withdrew from the awkward side hug and you braced yourself to see it in person. Bile rose to your throat as you bit your bottom lip to suppress a sob from escaping.

          Jungkook’s head laid on the ground, facing you. His eyes, although lost their sparks of life, were tender. Like the eyes of a lover who loves their significant other so much they’re willing to give the world for them. His warm gaze, which usually turned ice cold to other people who he felt was bothering you, sent an imaginary stab into your chest.

          Why? After all the immoral actions he’d done, he had the guts to stare at you like this? Like you were his whole world, and he was the little stars that have lights on to your otherwise dark life?

          Why? Why did he still love you after you rejected him repeatedly?

          And most of all, why did his death hurt you so much?

          You gripped the cold steel of your parasol and silently wept against your chest. You might be mourning over his death or the doom that had befallen him the moment he met you. Nobody knew. Nobody could bring themselves to care. All they wanted was for him to perish.

          And granted was their wishes.

          “Jungkook...”

[pandabearisaunicorn]

You Are My Weakness (SPN Fanfic)

You Are My Weakness Chapter 9 Demons

Previous Chapters: Intro Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 

Warnings: Mention of violence, hurt and angst Word Count:  2198

…Theresa’s P.O.V…

 Me and Louise was out on our first hunt together and alone. The boys weren’t happy when Louise told her idea and didn’t get happier when I actually tagged along. Sam was worrying his ass off and called me every 20 minutes. Sure, his actions were cute and all but I sure don’t have time to answer his every damn call. Louise and Dean on the other hand, he had called her once and it wasn’t pretty. I have never seen Louise so mad at anything human before, it sure was a sight to see. I guess he was really mad at her for even going after a demon by herself, yet alone with me, another girl and not him. I did understand his concern but Louise is a good damn hunter, she will make this just fine, we will make this just fine.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked and she glanced over at me. My hands still tight around the steering wheel. “No, he’s a total sweetheart every other hour of the day except when I could be in danger, then he can be a total pain in the ass” She said, I could almost feel her eyes rolling. “He cares about you Lou, I guess he just has a weird way of showing it” I said almost with a laugh. “You can say that” She said and in that moment I thought maybe she would just confess whatever was happening between the two of them but no.

 We sat in silence for a while, not that awkward silence that gets when no one knows what to say or when you dislike someone. No, that comfortable silence you get when you really like the person you spend time with. I like that kind of friendship, I like Louise. She’s such a good friend, a friend that’ll always be by your side, I feel like she’s one of those.

 Soon we were nearing the small town Boulder, Colorado. It has been so many killings in a short amount of time. Brutal killings and sulfur was found on almost every murder sight. It couldn’t be anything other than demons, it just couldn’t. Maybe it was a bad idea for me and Louise to take a demon or more by ourselves but we at least had to try. I mean the boys needed to fight a wendigo in a town in Alaska, I wasn’t sure which town they were in and that sure scared me. Hunting wendigo wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t easy. They could just as easily die as me and Louise. Realizing that I got scared, damn my Sam was in real trouble. I pulled up by the sheriff station, our badges in hand as we walked inside. Louise and I were wearing black suits with white dress shirts. Our hair pulled back by sunglasses as the sun was beaming down. Confused eyes met our bodies as we moved towards the front desk, a young boy maybe in his early 20’s looked up at us. A flirty smile evident on his lips as Louise leaned onto the counter. “We’re here because of all these unsolved murders” Louise said and showed him her FBI badge, I did the same. “Oh, yeah uh what to you want to know?” The boy said and sounding nervous as he spoke. “I want every document about these killings, every single one” She said, saying the last three words slowly.

 And like that, the boy were gone and his scent was still evident. Louise looked up at me, a proud smile and a raise of her eyebrows. I just smiled and laughed at her. Soon the boy was back, a huge pile of files in his arms. He dumped them on the desk and Louise handed me half of them.

 “Thank you so much dear” I said before we walked out the station and I could feel the boys’ eyes staring into our backs.

 We were now back in our car, Louise was now driving as I looked through the files. It was almost ridiculous how similar all these killings were, every man or woman was killed exactly the same way and by the same knife. How stupid could the police be? I mean almost anyone could solve these.

 “It’s almost funny how similar these killings are, it’s like the demon wants us to find him” I said and a shaky breath left Louise’s lips. “That’s almost humoristic, I mean I do have a bad past with demons” She said and I looked over at her, her face looking sad yet tense. Her grip on the steering wheel tightening. “That’s how your parents died wasn’t it?” I said with sympathy in my voice. “Yeah, Sam and Dean saved me. I don’t know what I would if they didn’t” She said, a tear rolling down her cheek and I could tell that this had been tearing on her soul. “Yeah, those two are truly knights in shining armor” I said and continued to read.

 The car feel silence as Louise suddenly stopped the car, it was now dark outside and I light the papers in front of me with a flashlight. I turned it off as I looked outside, a huge family home. The house was painted red with white details around the windows and doors. You could tell that this family once loved to take care of the garden and keep the house looking fresh and clean. Now, it was dead flowers, leaves all over the once green grass. It looked abandoned and I was hit with sadness. I was shook out of me dreams as the car door slammed shut, I followed Louise outside. She stopped walking as she neared me, her arms hanging by her side and her whole body slumped. I had never seen her like this. She started walking again, walking up the stairs of the house like she had done it a million times. I followed her inside, walking past the mailbox who was filled with letters and newspapers. My face turned into a frown as she bent down and took a spare key out from the doormat, her eyes scanning it for a bit before opening the door and walking inside. I hesitated before walking with her inside as the smell of rotten flesh hit my nostrils. I had no idea what I was expecting or why Louise knew all of this. It’s like she had done those actions a million times before, like she knew this house by heart. Then it hit me.

 “This is your family home isn’t it? That’s why Dean’s so mad over this” I said, her face turning to look at me. Eyes wet from tears. “Yeah, I want to be the one who kills the demons who possessed and killed my parents” She said, her eyes darkening and I didn’t like this look on her. “I understand that but maybe we should do some more research on this demon” I said with a shaky voice.

 Suddenly the house got extremely cold and windy, the lights flickering. I could feel panic raising inside of me, I was scared. I could tell Louise was too. Her body standing completely still and jumped as a loud bang was heard in the living room. To my surprise she walked into the room, her shoulders tense and to my dislike I had to follow her. My gun securely trapped in my hand. As I turned the corner of the doorframe I saw a tall man, maybe in his 40’s, standing in front of Louise, his black demon eyes looking harshly on her. I loaded the gun to be prepared for anything that could happen.

 “Louise Chapman, nice to finally meet you” His dark and evil voice spoke up as he walked closer to her. “What do you want her?” I spoke up, surprising myself as I opened my mouth. “Oh, you brought a friend, that didn’t really include in my plan but that could be rearranged” He said and that was all I remember.

 After that everything went black and when I woke up, they were gone. She was gone. I stood up in panic and started to look through every room in that god damn house. Fear taking over my body. If she had killed that demon she would still be here with me. She would never leave me here alone. How long has it been since I passed out? And why did everything hurt?

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and I was quick to pick it up. I was hoping Louise’s number would be listed but no, it was Dean. Fuck. I pressed the answer button and held the phone up to my ear, trying to get my breathing under control as I sat down on the porch outside the house. “Finally one of you picked up, what the hell has happened? Are you okay?” Dean’s worried voice triggered my tears to fall, the tears I had been holding in for so many minutes running around looking for her. “Tess, you hear me?” “She’s gone Dean” I whispered out, tears falling uncontrollably down my cheeks. “Who? Where is she?” I could hear his voice getting more and more worried. “She’s gone, it wasn’t anything I could do, when I woke up she was just gone. I have been looking everywhere Dean” I sobbed into the phone, feeling myself panicking. “What happened Tess, tell me what the hell happened!” Dean’s voice was getting angry and the panic inside of me getting worse. “The demon, he took her”

 …Louise’s P.O.V…

 My body felt heavy as I opened my eyes, feeling like I had been out for hours. I looked around the room, it was filthy. Bloodstained carpet and the walls almost falling apart. I tried to move but I was tied against a chair. I moved my arms and legs in panic as my breathing got heavier. Still not able to move them. I could feel my legs hurting, my head hurting, everything hurt. The last thing I remember is the demon throwing Tess into the wall and she passed out and now I’m here. What has he done to Tess? Is she hurt? Fuck, she must be wondering where the hell I am. I took a big look around the room again, trying to figure out anything. To my loss, there wasn’t even a window. It was just a dark filthy room. Soon the door opened, the lights turning on and there he stood. That filthy demon.

 “What have you done to me?” I whispered out, not being able to speak louder. “You my dear, have really pissed us off” He said as he kneeled down in front of me. “How?” I said, my voice weak and my eyes could barely stay on him. “You see, when your lover Dean Winchester killed two of my men, I sure was mad. I wanted you” He said as he dragged his knife against my cheek, I hissed at the sudden pain. “Why me?” I said, a bit more louder as I started to gain more power in my body. “Oh if you only knew. When we possessed your parents we got a huge insight of who you really were. You were chosen to fight us, to beat us Louise. You were chose, just like Dean was once” He said and I looked at him in disbelief. “Why me? I’m not anything special” I said, thinking that he just had a lame excuse to kill me. “Oh, you’re special. Truly. But you know, you’re not even going to have a chance to be anything special”

  …Dean’s P.O.V…

 I stood up quickly from my chair as I heard the garage port close and Tess’ footsteps in the corridor. Sam and I hurried down to meet her. I barely recognized her as she walked towards us, her face scratched, her back hunched and tearstained cheeks. She looked up at us, her eyes getting glossier as she ran into Sam’s arms. I tried to wrap my head around all of this. I was hoping Louise would walk inside with her, that all of this was just some cruel joke. But she never came, I could be standing there all day waiting for her to walk inside that door but she wouldn’t.

 “I have done everything I could to find her. I have been searching the whole town but she’s gone” Tess sobbed out as she looked up at me. Her blue grey eyes looking deeply into mine. “I know you did” I whispered out, trying not to take my anger out on her. This wasn’t her fault. “I can barely live with myself, what if she’s dead” She whispered out and something inside of me snapped. “SHE ISN’T DEAD, I WILL FIND HER” I screamed out making them both to look at me in fear. “We will find her Dean, I promise” Sam said as he held my head to look at him, my eyes watering as the thought of losing Louise hit me. “We will find her”

[impandagrl]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

Meeting a sweet, attractive, customer at work is an innocent enough coincidence. What could go wrong?

Home Is Wherever I'm With You - Part 1

This story starts off a little sweet and tame, but builds. I wouldn't call it a slow burn, but it might take a few chapters to get the feel for this fic. This is just where the story started, bear with me. If you'd like a list of known future tags/warnings, shoot me a message because they contain spoilers.

If you'd like to be tagged in subsequent chapters let me know. I have six chapters written so far, I'll be uploading them on a random as-I-have-time/energy-basis.

I would not have been able to write this story without guidance and encouragement from my wonderful, infinitely talented, and long-suffering betas @justawaywardwinchestergirl and Edge_of_Clairvoyance

I've tagged a few people who showed specific interest in the one thing I posted like a year ago; I have no idea if this is something you'd like, so I won't bother you with any other tags in the following chapters unless you let me know you want to be tagged.

This is my first A/B/O fic. I never thought I would be attempting this, but the story has been building in my head the last several months. It is just a story I wrote for myself. I wouldn't say it's traditional anything, although there is smut in later chapters. I do my best to separate the smut from the story so those who want to skip those scenes can do so without it interfering with following the plot. Or, I guess if you only want to read the smut with minimal plot, it would work for that too . . .

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Meet cute, Fluff, Possibly triggering if you've worked customer service, Mild Hurt/Comfort

“One large americano with a vanilla scone…” the customer in question came to retrieve their order, barely sparing her a glance. Well, they hadn't yelled at her, or tried to hit on her; she was going to call that interaction a win. She was still trying to shake off her encounter with one particular alpha earlier, whose deodorant had been overpowered by the sour tang of his ill-temper - the scent of which was still lingering in the air.

Her migraine was starting to flare up again and she still had several hours to go before this nightmare of a shift was over. She saw yet another customer approach out of the corner of her eye and mustered up the brightest smile she could before turning to face them. It wasn't their fault she was exhausted and in pain, or that she'd had to deal with a string of rude customers.

“Good afternoon! What can I get you?” her heart stuttered, but she was pleased to note she kept her voice and facial expression steady. He had to be one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen. He had a smile for her as well and she braced herself against the counter, taking a moment to catch her breath under the force of it, combined with dazzling hazel eyes, gorgeous hair, and the perfect amount of scruff.

“Thank you, I'd like a medium black coffee. For here, please.”

“Coming right up! Would you like to try a quinoa muffin? The cranberry orange is delicious . . .”

His expression turned thoughtful and she found it almost as adorable as his smile. “Sure, why not? Thank you,”

“May I have your name for the order?” She waited expectantly.

“It's Sam.”

“That'll be $3.83, Sam.”

He gave her a five and declined the change.

She was granted another smile and a thanks when she presented him with his order a couple of minutes later and he took it to sit alone at one of the tables, grabbing two cream packets on his way over. In between helping other customers, she caught a glimpse of him reading from a worn, hardback book, taking careful sips of his coffee, but she didn't see him leave.

That cute guy with the nice smile stuck with her as a bright spot in her otherwise dreary day, but she didn't think much else about it.

Next week her Thursday shift was going a bit better, but that didn't mean she didn't get a thrill when she saw chestnut brown hair and twinkling eyes over the shoulder of the customer she was currently serving.

“Well, hello, Sam! What can I get you today?”

She was rewarded with a grin like pure sunshine, and she was surprised to note his eyes seemed more blue this time. “A medium black coffee, please. And, that quinoa muffin was delicious, did you say they come in other flavors?”

“Let's see, besides the cranberry orange, we have blueberry lemon, cinnamon apple, and coffee nut.”

“I think I'll try the apple - for here, please,”

She was heating up his muffin when he cleared his throat behind her. She turned to see a bashful smile. Gah, did he possess any facial expressions not specifically designed to steal her breath away?

“You know my name, but I don't have yours . . .”

“Oh,” She reflexively reached down to fix her nametag. The darn thing was always getting twisted around until it was unreadable. “Y/N, sorry about that.”

“No worries, just be glad I wasn't with the name tag police, I would've had to write you up,” the sarcastic humor on his face made it difficult for her to rein in her laughter to a polite chuckle.

She handed him his order and he looked - adorably - chagrined, “Sorry, that was terrible. I'm ashamed.”

“Not at all!” He gave her a reproving look that, even in jest, left her weak-kneed, “well, maybe a little, but there's no need to apologize: it *was* funny,”

“You're too kind. I'll see you next time, Y/N,”

Next time!? She would not say no to seeing him again, but did that mean he was specifically looking forward to seeing her again? Was this going to be a regular Thursday thing? She wouldn't say no to that either. She felt a fluttering in her stomach causing her to muse ‘uh oh, Y/N, I think you're in trouble. . .’

She couldn't believe she'd let her hopes get up so high, but she didn't even want to admit to herself how disappointed she was when the next Thursday came and went without any sign of her favorite customer.

The following Monday was hellish, and she could have sworn her week just went downhill from there. She couldn't help waking up a little hopeful that Thursday that Sam would make an appearance. She could use a pick me up.

Those good thoughts were driven from her head the moment she walked through the door. Her manager, Terri, was there freaking out because the GM had popped in for a surprise visit. The manager started in on her, insisting that she was late, even though she'd definitely arrived two minutes early. Terri then followed her around as she set up the store to open, criticizing every move she made. “Is it so hard to just use common sense?”

She swore she was going to end up punching her manager, or yelling back before the day was done, and she could not afford to be fired.

Then her coworker showed up (late, as usual, but of course Terri had nothing to say about that) and proceeded to spend most of the morning whining about personal stuff and avoiding doing any work, instead of actually pitching in to help her.

Of course the morning rush was brutal and didn't even slow down enough she could take a lunch break. Finally, a customer who had clearly asked for an iced mocha, went ballistic because, “I ordered a hot mocha! It's freezing in here, why would I want it iced? Are you deaf, or just too stupid to understand the difference between hot and cold?”

Terri swooped in, “I'm so sorry for the mix up! We'll definitely make it right, your hot mocha will be on the house! I'll make it myself; it'll be out right away.”

Y/N didn't hear any more, because she was heading for the restroom trying to keep her head up and hold back the tears until she reached her refuge. Damn it! The ladies room was locked. Not only would she have to wait, but whoever was in there would be able to see she was on the verge of crying when they passed her coming out. She turned, not sure where to go, and ran into a solid chest.

Two hands loosely gripped her upper arms and held her carefully as she caught her balance and looked up into Sam's face. His expression was full of concern (Yep, still too beautiful for words for those keeping score at home) and he didn't make a move to let go for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?”

She'd had such a suck-fest of a day, and he felt like safety, and care, and . . . home.  She nodded and then, ridiculously, the dam broke and she just burst into tears. He held her closer to him and shifted one of his arms so it was supporting her back. Within a couple minutes, she became aware that she was sobbing in a customer’s arms and, out of sheer mortification, forced herself to regain control, managing to mostly stop the tears. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

“You don't have to apologize.”

“That was so unprofessional . . . And I got your shirt wet,” she pointed to the damp patch in the middle of Sam's shirt, horrified.

“Honestly, it's fine, you've obviously had a day.”

She let out a weak chuckle. “You could say that.”

He steadied her and tentatively let go. He reached out a hand as if to touch her face, but pulled back at the last second, so that just the tips of his fingers brushed her cheek, wiping at a tear that was still streaking down it, “Do you have a break or something any time soon?”

She nodded, trying not get lost in his kaleidoscope eyes, “I'm supposed to get fifteen minutes for lunch.”

“Would you see if you can take it now, and join me?”

“I would be interrupting your reading time, I'm afraid . . .”

“You wouldn't be interrupting anything. If you don't feel up to it right now, I completely understand; I won't be offended, but I'd like it if you sat with me.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sam nodded, “Thank you. I'll meet you in that corner booth?”

“Okay.” they both seemed hesitant to leave, but with a little nod Sam got in line to order, and Y/N went to let Terri know she was taking her lunch break.

Terri gave her a judgemental look meant to make her feel like she was slacking, but even her sour manager couldn't deny she was overdue for her break or legally say anything about it.

It was when she was grabbing her lunch from the break room that she stopped in her tracks as it dawned on her why that feeling of warmth and safety had come over her when Sam had touched her; why she even now felt uncomfortable standing still when he'd instructed her to do something. Her new friend was alpha. She really was in trouble.

But did that really change anything? She'd never met an alpha she felt that comfortable around - that's why it hadn't clicked right away. He was sweet and kind, and thanks to the best suppressants she could afford, she was safe from unwanted advances. And she was in a crowded coffee shop for crying out loud! She deliberated only a second, before heading over to wait at the corner booth.

Sam slid into the other side of the booth a few moments later with his plate and coffee. “I'm afraid you're probably sick of everything here, but I got two of the coffee nut muffins, just in case.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “I'll have one, thank you very much.” She caught a better glimpse of the book he had tucked under his arm. “The Two Towers? Are you a Tolkien fan?”

“Yeah, just rereading it for fun. You?”

She nodded, enthusiastically, “I love them. The movies are great, but they really short-changed several of the characters; there's just no beating the originals.”

“Oh, they butchered Faramir, for one!”

“Seriously! I was so pissed about that! I can watch them now, though. It sorta taught me not to demand perfection of movie adaptations. You have to treat them as separate entities. If you can't, don't bother watching them, you'll just be disappointed.”

“That sounds like good advice.” he chuckled.

“Sorry, I know I get too into that sort of thing.”

“Please, you don't have to apologize! It's refreshing, honestly, I've never been able to talk about Lord of the Rings around my brother.”

“Oh? Because he doesn't approve? Or he has a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion, and speaks Sindarin?”

Sam burst into surprised laughter, “Um, the first one, definitely! Although, I don't know, he's becoming more open about the ‘nerdy’ things he likes these days.��

“That's good. Life's too short to not enjoy the things you love. Are you and your brother close?”

“Yeah. I mean, we lost our mom young, and our dad passed a while back. We're all we've got.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, he's pretty great. Just don't tell him I said that.”

“I would never!”

“What about you? You close with your family?”

“Um, I used to be. I haven't seen any of them in a while.” She didn't mean to sit awkwardly quiet after that, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

He seemed to read in her face the desire for a subject change, “So do you?

“Do I?”

“Have a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion and speak Sindarin?

It was her turn to laugh, “I always meant to read it, but I could never finish it.”

Their talk moved to other books on their favorites list and they were able to find quite a few that they had in common. Finally, she looked at her watch, “Shoot! I have to go, before Terri has a conniption. Will you be here next week?” The question had slipped out before she could think better of it, but he didn't seem to think it was weird or prying.

“I'm not sure. I travel for work, and I never know when I'm heading out. If I'm in town, I promise I'll stop by.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Sam. Today was going pretty terribly before you got here. Not everyone would do what you did.”

“I'm glad I was there to help. You made my day too, you know? I'll see you next week, hopefully.”

She waved and rushed back behind the counter before Terri could come looking for her. Not even her snippy boss could bring her down the rest of the day. A hot, kind, sweet alpha, that made her feel safe, bought her muffins, whose smile was like the sun coming up, and he was a book nerd? Oh yes, she was in deep trouble.

This way to Part 2

@pinknerdpanda @neversatisfiedgirl @amanda-teaches

[pixie-unger]

The Raid- 19 ish?

18+  This chapter is fairly tame, but this work (and my blog) is off limits for minors. You can read the whole thing here.  And given that Tumblr isn’t always my friend, I suggest you do.  Also - triggers include but are not limited to vom, police brutality, discussion of future child birth.

The next moon came.  Zira’s cycle did not.  In stead, one morning, she woke up, sat up and promptly vomited into the chamber pot.

Jivvaar held her hair and got her some water to rinse her mouth with.  Zira laughed because the whole thing was just so ridiculous.  All that time, all that uncomfortable sex with Bradley, and she had never caught.  Now it looked like it only took Jivvaar the one try to plant a baby in her.

He spent the day fussing over her.  He made her stay in bed.  He brought her food and little treats and books to read.  He made sure her tea pot was always full and her chamber pot was always empty.  Zira felt inappropriately pampered.

The next morning, she woke up, sat up and promptly vomited into the chamber pot.  Then she looked at Jivvaar as she rinsed her mouth and said, “This is going to get old fast.”

He spent the day fussing over her.  He tried to make her stay in bed.  He brought her food and little treats and fabric to sew babby clothes.  He panicked when she snuck out to go check on the soap.  He made sure her tea pot was always full and her chamber pot was always empty.  Zira felt exhausted and annoyed.

By the end of the fifth day, Zira appealed to Ural for help.  “I can’t spend the next nine months in bed!”

Ural nodded in agreement, “You are right, you can’t.”

Then they turned on Jivvaar.

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, “What if she trips and falls down the stairs?” he demanded.

Ural narrowed her eyes in return, then said politely to Zira, “Daughter?  Will you excuse us for a moment?”  Zira was barely out of the room when the shouting started.

She was pretty sure she could hear someone throwing things.

She waited patiently.

And kept waiting.

One of the orc warriors came to speak to Ural, but froze outside the door and gave Zira a nervous look.  “Um?” he asked.

“My mother is explaining to my husband about how to care for a pregnant woman.”

The orc’s face lit up.  “Wow!  You are a breeder now?  If you ever get bored of Jivvaar,  I would love to please you, especial when you are round like the moon.”

Zira frowned, “Are women supposed to have sex while they are heavily pregnant?”

The orc shrugges, “Dunno.  But they sure as shit want to.”

Zira blushed.  “Well, my shit isn’t a sure thing right now.”

“Huh.  When my sister was pregnant, she needed to eat extra flax. They will start making it into bread soon for all the females that caught this season.  I bet if you asked, the cooks would start early for you.”

Zira considered this.  Something heavy bounced off the inside of the door.  “Thank you,” she said, “I will.”

The orc whistled tunelessly for a moment. “Holy hell, I would not want Keeper Ural as a mother in law!”  Then he remembered himself and looked down at Zira, “Begging your pardon, of course.”

Zira shrugged. “They both care for me.  This is just negotiation about the best way to go that.”

The door flung open and Jivvaar stormed out.  Zira hesitated a moment the chased after him.  “Jivvaar!  Please wait!”

He immediate froze.  He turned and caught her as she reached him.  She was promptly scooped up so that he could nuzzle against her belly.  He nipped lightly against her breasts, rubbed his face against the crook of her neck then carefully set her on her feet and bowed so the his forehead was pressed to hers.

“I want to keep you safe and health Zira.  RIght now, I don’t give a rats ass about whatever little parasite you are growing in there yet.  I can’t help you grow it.  All I can do is try to take care of you while you do.”

Zira smiled up at him, “I love you, too Jivvaar.”

“Just don’t…. ugh!  Goddess!  Just don’t die on me!”

“I will be fine.  Women do this all the time.”

Jivvaar frowned, “Zira, women die from this all the time.”

“I will be fine.”  Zira tilted her head up to kiss him on the lips.  “Now, what are we going to do about that brother of yours?”

Jivvaar frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Ardra is leaving tomorrow.  I would expect him to be .. upset by that.”  Jivvaar just looked at her blankly.  Zira sighed.  “Jivvaar!  Grakk has been sleeping in her room all week!  How have you not noticed?”

Jivvaar grunted, then scooped his wife up, sweeping her off her feet, “I’ve been a little distracted.”

Zira just shook her head.  “I like Ardra!  I wish we could keep her!”

“Why can’t we?”

“Well, she is a diplomatic envoy from King Rovadan.  The human king may want her back.”

Jivvaar thought to himself, ‘Grakk is just jealous that I got a wife and he didn’t.’   He suspected actually voicing that opinion might not be the best idea.  What he actually said was, “What do you need me to do?”  He was prepared for his wife to instruct him on some friendly neighbourhood kidnapping.  He was less impressed when she said:

“Once she leaves, he may need you to spend more time with him.  Help get his mind off of her.”

“Zira?  Are you sure this isn’t a make work job to keep me from taking care of you?”

“No!”

Jivvaar didn’t actually believe that, but he was prepared to go along with it.  Graal had said that if Zira stopped moving around the delivery would be harder on her.  He was also shocked when the elder pointed out the the baby would be bigger than his wife’s fist and that he had eight months to get her body ready to push something that big out.  Jivvaar hadn’t really considered that until she brought it up.

He decided to change the subject.  "Do you think we should refuse King Rovadan’s invitation to attend Imbolc now or closer to the day?”

Zira stiffened in his arms.  “I wasn’t planning on declining!  I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Jivvaar set her carefully on her feet.  “How big are human’s at five months with with child?”

Zira looked a little nervous, “I’m not entirely sure!  I couldn’t even guess about how that would work with a half orc pregnancy.  That is assuming I haven’t lost it by then.”

“It’s a week’s travel to the human capital.  The roads won’t be good in February.  If anything happens on the road, you would be at the mercy of those quacks the humies use as doctors.”

Zira felt a sting at that, “They aren’t quacks!”

Jivvaar frowned, “Zira,  they believe that making people bleed makes them healthier.  Anyone who has spent five minutes on a battlefield-”

“It’s different!” Zira protested.  “Something to do with the humours.”

“Uh huh.” Jivvaar wasn’t going to argue with his wife about this.  But he also wasn’t going to let any human do anything to his wife until they demonstrated it was safe by doing it to themself first.  Instead of making this announcement, he decided to try the diplomatic approach.  “Why don’t we wait and see how you are feeling then?”

Zira narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

-----

The trip back to the capital hadn’t been any more fun for Ardra than the trip to Porthcawl, although the furs the boys had sent with her meant that it was warmer.  At least the snow kept her travelling companions from taking extended lunch breaks.

When she announced Zira’s pregnancy, Queen Mila squealed and kicked her feet.

“We will have babies together!” she exclaimed.  The she stopped and turned to her husband, “PLEASE let me be there when we share this news with Bradley!”

The guards brought in the would be Duke and Ardra made the announcement again.  She wasn’t  quite sure what to expect, but having the man scream, “Liar!” and try to attack her wasn’t it.  Fortunately, one of the guards brought him down before he got to her.  

She didn’t think anyone else was close enough to heard the guard whisper, “Fuck! And you were married for five years?  Didn’t anyone ever explain which hole you are supposed to use?”

At that point, Bradley completely lost it, swearing and flailing.  The guard took the opportunity to bounce the not duke’s face off the marble floor, before whispering, “That’s for beating the serving girls, you stupid cunt.”

[iishipallthethings]

Three is (not) a crowd

Chapter 5: Let’s go racing!

Story summary: Two months after Kuvira was defeated, things have finally settled down in Republic City. For better or for worse, Avatar Korra is ready to talk to Asami about the Unspoken Thing between them, however there's something Asami had been hiding from her friends. And that something is Lin Beifong.

This time when Korra walked up to the door of Asami’s mansion, she didn’t hesitate. She pressed the doorbell with a little more force than necessary but she was nervous. It had been a week since Korra had The Talk with Lin and Asami and the duchess had invited the Avatar over to spend some time with her, along with Mako and Bolin. Korra would have much rather be alone with Asami but she would take whatever the duchess gave her. She might acknowledge the fact that the duchess was not available but that didn’t stop her heart from beating faster at the thought of Asami’s smile and sparkling eyes.

Unlike last time, an older man wearing a crisply tailored suit opened the door. Korra recognized the man from being the butler when she first visited Asami’s mansion. She recalled him having to call Bolin ‘Master Bolin.’ “Miss Sato is in the garage. Please follow me.” Korra did as she was told. She was pretty sure that she could have found her way on her own but she was grateful for the help.

However as Korra walked behind the butler, her mind began to wander. She spotted several other servants here and there, many of them tidying up the place. So Asami did give her servants a day off when she had Lin and Korra over. Korra wondered if she did that often to protect her relationship with Lin but the pang in her chest stopped her questioning.

In far less time than she would have liked, the butler opened the door and Korra narrowed her eyes at the sudden sunshine. Her eyes adjusted and she walked outside. The door clicked softly behind her. Korra spotted a car with a hood up and Asami inspecting the engine. The Avatar made her way over to her and saw the grease stains that littered the duchess’s hands and even her forehead where Asami had swept her bangs behind her ear. Korra didn’t see Mako or Bolin and was tempted to stay quiet until the boys showed up. She knew that once Asami started to tinker with her car, the duchess was oblivious to the world.

Despite herself, Korra’s eyes lowered to take in Asami’s form. The duchess had her back to the Avatar and was bent over as she played with something. Korra gulped and shut off her mind before it could fill with images of Asami being bent over something more comfortable like a bed or desk.

Korra coughed into her closed fist and Asami looked behind her to see the Avatar standing a few feet away, a light blush on her cheeks. Asami quickly finished with the engine and shut the hood. She set down her wrench and grabbed the washcloth to clean off the grease. Soon the white fibers were stained grey as Asami strolled over to Korra.

“Hey, Asami,” Korra greeted the older woman. “You okay?” When Asami was tinkering with her car it either meant that the duchess was in a very good mood or in a sour one. The look on her face, especially the crease at the corner of lips, hinted that Asami fell into the later category.

Asami opened her mouth to say she was fine but she stopped herself. Korra knew her too well to buy the lie. “Not really,” Asami admitted. She tossed the dirty washcloth near her wrench and rubbed her temples. “I got out of a meeting today. I’m getting pressured by my investors about the Fire Nation Satostation. They want me to tell my research team to cut corners in developing the carts.” At the look on Korra’s face, Asami explained. “I already have heat resistant metal to make the frames but it isn’t as strong as the metal I use for Republic City’s Satostation. I want my trains to be safe as possible which is taking time and they don’t like that.”

“Your investors sound like greedy assholes,” Korra said with a quirked eyebrow. Asami had a lot more patience than her, she would have punched the investors instead of working on her car.

“Yeah,” Asami chuckled. “But I have to make them happy. They do help the company floating after all.”

Korra and Asami hear someone shout and turned their heads to see Bolin and Mako exiting the mansion. They started to walk to the two women and Asami took a step forward to meet the brothers but Korra’s hand on her arm halted her. Asami looked at Korra with a question in her eyes and the Avatar pointed at a spot on her own neck. “You might want to cover that up before they see it.”

Asami looked confused for a moment and took a peek at one of the side mirrors of the car. A blush covered her face and a hand dashed up to cover the hickey. “Lin,” Asami muttered. She quickly undid her ponytail and fussed with her hair until the lovebite was covered.

“If you wanted to keep your relationship a secret, you shouldn’t wear hickies like a necklace.” Korra couldn’t help the laughter at the sight of Asami’s face.

“She never used to leave hickies on my neck,” Asami had gotten over the shock at the fact that Lin had left a hickey on her at a very visible place. She waggled her eyebrows at Korra. “Maybe she wants you to know I’m hers.” Asami realized what she had said and she held her hands up. “Wai-”

Korra spoke up before Asami could apologize. “Don’t worry about it,” Korra chuckled. She smiled kindly at her friend. “I’m glad she makes you happy. I still don’t get how you two became a thing but I’m glad.”

Relief covered Asami’s features. “Thank you,” she whispered. “She’s a bit like you in all honesty.”

“How?” Korra asked. She and Lin were as different as light and day. The Chief was grouchy and as stubborn as the element she bends.

“Both of you are headstrong.” Asami said. Her face sobered as she continued, “I know this is hard for you but I’m happy we’re still friends.”

Those words hurt Korra more than if Asami said she never wanted to see her again. She forced her lips to tilt up in a mock smile and she knew she failed by the way Asami’s eyes widened and then show her concern.

Luckily for both of them, Mako and Bolin had made their way to the two. “Hey guys!” Korra said before Asami could continue their conversation. “Long time no see!” Korra pulled the brothers into a tight hug, squeezing as hard as she could. The Avatar laughed as two hands patted at her back to be released. She let go and took a moment to look over the two. “No uniforms?” Both Bolin and Mako were back in civilian clothes and the image was now strange on the two of them. Korra was used to seeing them in uniforms. “You didn’t get fired, did you?”

Mako shook his head with a grin. “No, don’t worry.” He gestured down to his normal clothes. Even he seemed a little uncomfortable in civilian clothing. “We’re not allowed to wear the uniform when we’re not working. It’s a new policy after we defeated Kuvira.” Mako glanced away. “The Chief thought that the Police Department needed to be seen more as everyday people instead of ruthless figures of authority.”

Korra and Asami shared a look and focused their attention on Bolin. The younger brother squirmed at their scrutinous eyes. “That true, Bolin?” Korra asked her friend.

The younger brother jerked his head up and down. “Yep! It was totally all Chief Beifong’s idea! President Reiko had nothing to do with it!”

The Avatar didn’t miss how Asami’s eyes narrowed in anger at the mentioning of the president. Korra had her own misgivings with President Reiko but she suspected that Asami had to hear several of Lin’s rants about the man. The duchess probably gave the Chief several of her own.

Mako slapped his forehead at Bolin’s lack of wit. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “President Reiko was worried that the Police Department might have been viewed as more brutal if its officers wore their uniforms as everyday clothing. He wanted to make sure that the image people perceive of us is nothing like Kuvira’s at all.”

That explanation didn’t satisfy Asami. “What if there’s a crime and an off-duty officer is unable to do anything because she doesn’t have her equipment?”

The brothers didn’t understand why the duchess was getting so worked up about them wearing civilian clothing but Korra picked it up right away. Asami was worried that Lin might get hurt if she tried to stop a crime in progress without her equipment. The idea was a bit ridiculous, the Chief still had her earthbending and metalbending, but Korra knew she couldn’t say that now.

Bolin held up his hands like he could physically halt Asami’s words. “We’ll be fine. Mako and I still have our bending.” Korra could have hugged him. He grinned and made a muscle with his arm. “Besides, I can still take down bad guys with just these guns!” His grin grew as a blush spread across his cheeks. “But I still miss those uniforms.”

“Seriously?” It might be because Bolin only joined the Police Department a few months ago but Korra didn’t think he would want to have those stiff uniforms.

Bolin nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah, Opal really likes men in uniforms.” He had a dopey look on his face. “She says that she’s always been attracted to men with authority.” Bolin started babble on an on about Opal but the three ignored him.

Mako rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics and looked at the two women. “He won’t shut up about Opal. I really think he’s in love.”

“Of course I am!” Bolin said, wrapping one arm around his brother’s shoulders and resting his free hand over his heart. “Opal is so perfect, how could I not be in love with her!? She’s so caring and beautiful and smart and strong and-”

“You gotta help me,” Mako pleaded with the two now giggling women. Bolin didn’t seem to hear Mako as he kept listing how Opal was perfect. “She came to visit us and they just won’t stop.”

Korra and Asami were about to ask what Mako meant but the blush on the man’s face made it clear what he was referring to. Korra looked at the still rambling Bolin and almost pitied the man. He was walking on lava and he probably didn’t even know it. The Beifong family were nothing if not protective of their own and she didn’t want to think what Lin would do if she ever found out that Bolin was messing around with her niece. Suyin might be more calm about the situation but Toph, Toph would destroy him. Korra looked at Asami and could see much of the same thoughts were occurring in her mind.

Bolin finally took a breath long enough to notice that the other three weren’t paying attention to him. He looked slightly peeved at being ignored but shrugged it off. “So, what do you want to do?” he asked the group. “Swim? Spar? Have another life-changing and possibly deadly experience in which we learn something new about ourselves and strengthen our relationships with each other?”

“How about racing? Girls versus boys?” Asami suggested. She pointed her thumb at the car Korra had saw her messing with earlier. “I just finished installing a new engine I’ve been working on for my next line of Satomobiles. It’s totally safe.” She smiled at Korra. “It’ll be like old times.”

Korra returned the smile, this one natural instead of forced like before. “That sounds awesome.” Mako and Bolin agreed eagerly. The four split up into two teams, Asami and Korra taking the car that Asami was messing with earlier and Mako and Bolin getting into a car parked in the garage. Now that she was paying attention to the vehicles and not the woman messing with them, they appeared to be upgraded versions of the race cars she and Asami first raced all those years ago. Just like before, Asami took the wheel with Korra sitting in the back. They drove leisurely to the racing track.

Both cars stopped in front of the start line. Asami reached into a glove department to grab some gloves and helmet and goggles. She handed the passenger helmet and goggles to Korra. The Avatar saw the glint in Asami’s eyes and the excited smile. Korra was reminded of the look on Asami’s face when the younger woman caught her with Lin. She looked over to see Mako and Bolin putting on their own safety gear.

“Ready?” Asami asked Mako who was gripping the steering wheel. Mako had a similar look on his face, if less intense, and nodded. He revved the engine once and Asami returned the favor. “Set.” Asami grinned and revved the engine again. The other three might have their elements but here, Asami reigned supreme. “GO!”

Wasting no time, Asami slammed the gas pedal down. Korra yelped and held onto her seat belt for dear life. Mako and Bolin were already lagging behind, not as comfortable with the speed as Asami. Korra looked at the rear view mirror of the vehicle and couldn’t help but smile on the look on Asami’s face. She was so beautiful and fearless when she was racing.

“Hold on!”

Korra almost didn’t hear the older woman and let out a small shriek as she was slammed to the right side of the car but once the shock dissipated, she was laughing. This was so much fun! If it was anyone else driving, she would have been petrified. But she trusted Asami and was able to enjoy her pounding heart and adrenaline rampaging in her veins. Once the car was out of the drift, Korra looked behind them. Mako and Bolin were far, far behind. There was no hope for the brothers to catch up even if Asami let up on the gas.

She turned her head to tell Asami that they had won the race but stopped at the smile on Asami’s face. She saw the fire in Asami’s green eyes as she took another hard turn, the finish line now in sight. It’s only when the duchess driving that her competitive nature comes out. It wasn’t enough for Asami to beat their friends, she had to utterly annihilate them. It was just like when Korra fought in the pro bending tournaments. No wonder Korra fell for her. No wonder Lin likes her.

The two sped past the finish line and Asami slammed the brake pedal. The car squealed to a stop and the two jumped out to celebrate. Korra grabbed Asami by the duchess’s waist and spun her around, the air filled with their carefree laughter. Korra looked up at the duchess and Asami was beaming down at her. The Avatar set Asami back to her feet but they didn’t move away from each other. Asami and Korra’s eyes met and both women didn’t know what to do. A light flush crept up Asami’s cheeks as Korra’s heart pound but no longer from the excitement of the race.

Fuck.

It was still there.

The Unspoken Thing.

Korra let go of Asami and took a step back. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at the car. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Asami let her hand rest on Korra’s shoulder for a moment like she didn’t want the embrace to end before it slid down. “It’s okay.”

Both women were saved from the sound of an approaching car. Mako and Bolin drove past the finishing line and braked near them. The brothers got out but the loss didn’t seem to deter their spirits. They were smiling when they walked over to the two. “That was great!” Bolin yelled out even though the two women were less five feet from him.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Asami said, taking off her helmet and goggles. “I started to worry that I would have to go back and show you where the finish line was.”

Korra watched the three talk but she couldn’t hear the words. How did it end up like this? It’s like with Mako all over again, except Asami was Mako and Lin was Asami. And Korra was just Korra.

[maracate]

Fic rec list for @maternalcube

I avoided everything explicit and most of the things that haven’t updated since feb (unless I really liked it) which makes this list about 300% shorter (and also means there are very few soulmate aus, people do not like to finish those)

it’s still long though, so under the cut

Finished:

Unwritten (T)

Every Victor Nikiforov fan has three things in common. 1. They have unrealistic expectations for romance. 2. They mark their calendars with the dates of his newest book releases and the premieres of his latest movie adaptations. 3. They either passionately hate or love his greatest rival, a mysterious author whose pseudonym is only two letters: “KY.”

High flying, adored (G)

Being a superhero is hard. It's even harder when you're desperately in love with the most famous figure skater in the world, who never seems to notice you. Of course it doesn't help that he's a superhero too--and he's head over heels for your alter-ego.

Enjoy the awkward fumblings of these two erstwhile masked men as they dance the terrifying tango of young love and secret identities.

Starstruck (T)

(in which yuuri is a simple barista, viktor is a famous movie star, and yuri is an 8 year old kid stuck in the middle of it.)

Autumn in detroit (M but i think that’s for violence)

In a world where Viktor Nikiforov was forced to retire early due to a leg injury, he sought work instead as a police detective in Detroit. Now a young skater with a poster of him on his bedroom door has gone missing and Viktor knows beyond a doubt it's the work of a man who's been brutally murdering professional dancers for years. It's impossible not to take this case personally. Viktor will find Yuuri Katsuki.

Entwinning fates (T)

Imagine if Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the demise of you-know-who, started accepting foreign students in an effort for greater unity among wizarding communities around the world. Imagine that, in this changing climate of diversity and social acceptance, Hogwarts also decided to host an exchange programme with select students from Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for a semester.

Imagine, then, if a young Japanese wizard by the name of Yuuri Katsuki had transferred to Hogwarts to escape his past, just in time to meet a Russian Quidditch player who would blow open the very doors he was trying so desperately to close.

A story of love, magic, and teenagers trying to find themselves.

Dear mama (T)

In which Victor writes letters to his mother, who is fifty percent of his rationality and self-control.

Like your french girls (T)

in which Victor is an artist, Yuuri is his figure skating muse, and Yuri is so done hearing about their stupid love story through Instagram

Unwritten (T)

Soulmates AU where whatever you write on your own skin appears on your soulmate, but when there is a language barrier, meeting becomes just a little more difficult than it should be. 

I love you, my dear (T)

Musician au where famous YouTube singer Victor is practically in love with a famous singer/lyricist named Lilith (who has never revealed his true identity to the public). Victor feels compelled to go to Lilith's first show of his world tour (even though he's never met him) and on the flight there, he sits next to this guy named Yuri, completely oblivious to the fact that Yuri is his idol, Lilith.

or, the one where Yuri/Lilith accidentally says "I love you, my dear" to a man he has never met before.

Unfinished:

The power of love (T)

“The two Japanese singles medalists make a beautiful pair! Here, at the 2009 Tokyo GPF, we have the start of this power couple’s reign!” Yuuko and Yuuri dominate the singles skating competition as Japan’s power couple—except they aren’t a couple, and when their old skating idol stumbles into their personal life, everything rapidly goes downhill. 

The ice prince’s rose garden (T)

Light political struggle and mystery all spun up with master/servant Viktuuri.

bear your soul on the ice (M but it’s mostly in passing)

At age fourteen, Katsuki Yuuri had been determined to be Japan's next great figure skating hope, but with no coach that would never happen, so his ballet instructor packs him up off to Russia to train with Yakov Feltsman. The Yakov Feltsman, otherwise known as the coach to rising figure skating star -- and Yuuri's idol -- Viktor Nikiforov.

Dancing daffodils (M but I think it’s for violence? idk)

A god falls for a man.

Expomise (T)

Expomise: a transformation spell that bonds two objects together. / Yuuri is at Hogwarts. So is everyone else./

Nuclear hearts club (T)

Being seventeen and chronically confused isn't always a walk in the park - especially when you've been crushing on your brother's best friend since you were nine. You'd be crazy not to. Victor's the best thing to happen to the world since sliced bread.

(Join Yuuri Katsuki on this pine-fueled adventure full of teen angst and astronomical fuckery.)

A thread of silver (T)

Once upon a time, there was a boy who got lost in the woods... AU. Inspired by various fairy tales and mythologies.

That old-time religion (T)

Yuuri is pretty sure that when an impossible stranger turns up and tells you he’s the god of victory, it doesn’t matter how good-looking he is. The moment he asks you to abandon your mortal life and come back to his mountain kingdom with him, you turn around and walk away.

An AU based loosely around the Greco-Roman pantheon. Very loosely.

Death or glory (T)

aka 'The Hunger Games AU that happened by accident'. May the odds be ever in your favour.

I’d rather be skating (M for some reason idk)

Sometimes, when a muggle child gets an acceptance letter from a wizarding school, they say no.

Victor Nikiforov would rather be skating. Yuuri Katsuki would rather be normal.

The rules for lovers (T)

Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…

That’s a long story.

Like a fairytale (T)

In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his 'Cinderella' Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he's doing).

not gold like in your dreams (T)

in which Victor and Yuuri are roommates and Yuuri has a secret

taking the long way home (T)

In which Vicchan never died, Yuuri won bronze at the Grand Prix Final, didn't get drunk at the banquet, and never made Victor fall in love with him./

Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare (T)

The tale of a lonely traveler, Victor Nikiforov, and his encounter with an equally lonely immortal man.

Alternatively: the tale of Yuuri Katsuki, who never ages and never dies and has lived frozen in time for centuries, and his attempts to keep his adopted son from killing the new guest.

Destiny may ride with us (T)

Viktor Nikiforov spent the first twenty seven years of his life waiting for something exciting to happen. And then, it did.

AU in which Yuuri is a little bit more than human, someone seems to be stealing all of Viktor's spoons, and Yurio is the only person who thinks this is all rather strange.

Lost and found (T)

AU in which: Yuuri is a cop who works at the Hasetsu policebox, and Victor is the new skate instructor in town who almost always ends up on the steps of the aforementioned policebox to flirt with him.

The Castle Atop the Hill (T)

In a cursed land covered in unforgiving ice, Yuuri becomes a knight so that he and his family can survive. In the castle is where he finds Viktor, a prince with a magical gift, whom Yuuri believed could save anyone. But maybe Viktor needs saving too. 

One Shots:

Drunk on you (T)

A one-shot collection of soulmate AUs.

What you should know about dating a man with children (G)

"AU scenario where the skaters mistake the triplets for Yuuri's kids when they first meet him, possibly when he brings them to the skater-only area as a b-day treat, or something? (Kudos if you can work in jealous!Victor somehow, but the skaters having a fun reaction would be A+, tbh. Would be lovely if you could include Chris and/or Yurio :D )"

I’m just going to the store (T)

Accidental masked vigilante Victor Nikiforov.

Or: how Victor's impulsiveness backfires and creates one of the greatest living internet memes to ever come out of Russia.

hood and glove (T)

"I don't mess with the fae," Otabek says.

"I'm not asking you to mess with them," JJ flat-out lies.

"The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky." (T)

Critics have always considered "The Adventures of Sparkly Elf and Soft Hobbit, Endured With Great Patience by The Bright And Powerful, Best In The Land, Yuri Plisetsky." one of the most faithful descriptions of Legend Victor Nikiforov, the greatest elven fighter for more than eight centuries. Although it is narrated by Plisetsky as an adolescent, and thus contains strong language and spends more time ridiculizing his travelling companions than giving thoughtful insight into Nikiforov's psyche, it still remains as an essential reading in every scholar that decides to study Nikiforov [...] // Day 95: Caught Nikiforov writing love poems. Am appalled at bad writing more than anything else. Example: “I really like your dark eyes / and all the other parts of your face. Your butt is the perfect size / and I would love to see you in lace.” Hope the Hobbit cannot read, or am afraid this love story will not have a pleasant ending.

Never tasted rubies (T)

in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him

love me do: a victuuri week compilation (t)

Every chapter is a short fic based on one of the Victuuri Week prompts.

The Goddamn Tie Has Got To Go (T)

Dear God. Yuuri was wearing the tie again.

The powdery blue monstrosity was not only unfashionable (and where did Yuuri even manage to acquire such a tie?), it also reminded Viktor, with shocking clarity, of a sweaty, half naked, pole dancing Yuuri. It reminded him of a night of joy, a night of passion. The night where he was finally, and without warning, lifted from the fog that had crept up on him in his last few years of skating.

Understandably, it elicited quite the unfavorable reaction in him when they were out in public.

For the sake of his remaining dignity, Viktor needed to improvise a plan to dispose of it as soon as possible.

Welcome Aboard Eros, Commander (T)

Commander Nikiforov is frustrated. For years, he has been chasing Eros, the most elusive pirate ship to ever sail the Seven Seas, and its even more elusive captain, whom it appears no one has ever been able to lay their eyes on. With the threat of every royal treasury in the whole of the Caribbean soon being emptied down to the last coin, the commander sets sail again, determined to track down Eros and its captain once and for all.

That is, if the mysterious Captain Katsuki doesn't find him first.

Victuuriweek day 2: Traveling AU: Historical

Winter Solitude  (T)

Victor was cursed by a fellow competitor many years ago, jealous of his skills on the ice. The curse limited Victor to a lake in Hasetsu, Japan, where he appears to others as a blue-tinted human.

He can't age. He can't leave. And he can't let himself feel emotions for the pain it causes.

But a skater comes to the frozen lake one day and ignites a fire in his heart that he hadn't felt in years.

Series:

Cubicle gods

Flourist and wedding planner au

stop, erase, rewind

Haven (okay this series is E and kind of messed up maybe? but i love it)

have you heard there's a rumour in st. petersburg

A Real Life Cinnamon Roll

Even Ice Gods Can Melt

warm-up hogwash

must love dogs

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Part 2 of The Sam Diaries

Part 1:  http://potterheaddoesnotquitecoverit.tumblr.com/post/158971922195/so-this-idea-came-into-my-head-a-couple-of-days

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836/chapters/23186556

It’s a few months after he almost got stabbed by Andrew Minyard and his ridiculously drawable face, and Sam’s girlfriend has finally stopped following him to the park with the hopes of seeing the Exy stars. Sam belatedly realised he still didn’t know what cosmic coincidence had led to Andrew and Neil being in the park that day, but the hoodie with a rip in it from Andrew’s knife has quickly become his favourite.

The only reason he’s not wearing it today is because his girlfriend threatened to leave him if he didn’t wash it after he spilled pasta sauce all over it. He still hasn’t sat through a whole Exy game but he has got a new job, which is why he’s walking through the park at some ridiculous hour in the morning, stumbling only a little from the celebratory drinks at the pub with his mates. He’s checking his pockets to make sure he definitely has his keys when he spots two guys on the path ahead of him.

One of them is sat on the bench, the other leaning over him but staying very close. The one stood hears him approach if the startled way he looks over is any indication, but he’s lost to the night before Sam can see more than a glint of moonlight reflecting off something in his hand. The man on the bench doesn’t move, and as Sam gets closer he recognises red hair and a heavily scarred face, though his blue eyes seem to be closed in sleep.

“Neil? Oh my hell man what are the chances? Do you, like, live near here or is this park some secret Exy players hideout I’ve somehow missed? I got a new job by the way in case Andrew’s going to turn up and stab me again for that- Oh my god you’re bleeding- shit.” Neil’s hand was pressed into the side of his stomach where a red circle was beginning to seep out into the material of his running jacket. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck. I’m going to call an ambulance don’t move.” Don’t move?! His mind regurgitated. Where’s he going to go idiot?

The next fifteen minutes are a blur while his adrenaline gives him a sobering crash to reality and an ambulance team full of paramedics take Neil, still unconscious, to the hospital. A police officer asks Sam what happened and he explains as best he can, not knowing if Neil was targeted for a mugging or something because the man is presumably loaded. He rings his girlfriend after that and leaves her a message, and then drives down to the hospital with the policeman.

At the desk in the reception he is given Neil’s belongings and told he’s been taken in for some kind of surgery; it all goes over Sam’s head but he does understand that the stab wound is not the only one of his injuries; apparently he’s taken a beating brutal enough to cause internal bleeding. He’s not entirely sure why he’s given Neil’s belongings, but when he spies the ridiculously retro mobile in the little packet of stuff he knows he’s about to have the most unpleasant conversation of his life.

The phone rings only once before it’s picked up, and Sam can’t help the fact that his knees get a little bit jelly-like when he hears Andrew’s sleep-soaked voice, even if it is just as flat as before.

“Neil?”

“Andrew? Hi, um, it’s me, the guy you accosted in an alley like a few months ago?” What the ever living fuck are you doing Samuel his mind screams at him and he winces. Andrew doesn’t say anything so Sam rushes on. “I found Neil stabbed on the bench in the park and he’s in surgery now.” Could you be any more blunt?!

“Which hospital?” Andrew asks, only it sounds more like a snarl and Sam jumps in his seat, ignoring the concerned looks of the other people in the waiting room.

“Um…” He looks around for a helpful plaque but there’s none. “The one closest to the park?” Andrew doesn’t say anything but he can feel how unimpressed he is just through his silence. “There’s only one hospital in this town to be fair.” Sam tries to defend, even as he remembers Andrew could not give less of a shit if he tried. “He, uh, got beaten up pretty bad by this guy.” Andrew’s silence takes on an unnerving tone of stillness.

“How bad?” He asks, calmly, and Sam immediately wishes he’d snarl again.

“Some internal bleeding? I don’t really know anything about this stuff but he wasn’t conscious when I found him.” He doesn’t know exactly why he’s expecting Andrew to understand that more than he does, but maybe in a combination of Neil’s scars and Andrew’s knives, he has a feeling that he will.

“Keep me informed. I’m driving there now.” Andrew is back to flat again, but there’s something brittle in his voice.

“Now? Then how are you on the phone?” Does it matter?! Samuel I swear to christ- Andrew hangs up.

And, well, what can Sam do now? He can’t leave, Andrew Minyard just asked him not to, but his hands are shaking with exhaustion born from terror. Mechanically he goes to one of the nearby sinks and washes the blood off his hand from where he’d been helping stem the bleeding, and then wanders over to the desk again.

“Will you wake me if there’s any news?” He asks of the receptionist, having no idea if she’s the person to ask, but she seems to remember him and nods, smiling sympathetically. He wonders if she knows he’s just a stranger. With that he wanders back over to his uncomfortable plastic chair and curls up in it as best he can, letting his eyes close.

  A gentle hand on his shoulder wakes him up, and the nurse is smiling at him even before he gets a chance to ask.

“Your friend’s made it through surgery with no complications. He’s asleep now but should wake up anytime if you want to go see him?” Sam nods from politeness’ sake and then immediately shakes his head, clearing it.

“Erm, maybe in a minute I need to call some people.” She smiles at him understandingly. Sam fishes Neil’s phone out of his pocket but before he can dial the number Andrew marches into the waiting room and locks eyes on him holding Neil’s phone. Sam scoots back on the seat as he stalks over out of some self-preservation instinct he didn’t know he had. “He’s fine! Made it through all the surgeries and stuff he’s asleep.” Andrew stops walking towards him and goes for the nurse instead, disappearing behind the double doors moments later, the nurse flapping behind him.

Sam’s phone rings then, though he sleepily tries to answer it using Neil’s to start with. His girlfriend is frantic on the other end and insists on coming over to the hospital to pick him up herself. Sam feels his throat begin to close up at how much he realised he needs her support, and cradles the phone to his chest long after they’ve stopped speaking. An idea flashes through his groggy brain and he latches onto it, saving it for a better day, but someday soon.

Sam drags himself to his feet and kindly asks the nurse to direct him to Neil which takes longer than he thought it would considering how frazzled she appears. He can relate; Andrew has that effect on everyone.

He knocks at the door before he enters, but thankfully Neil is just smiling drowsily at Andrew while the goalkeeper pushes his face away in annoyance. “Hi, um, I’ve got your things? Glad to hear you’re ok.” Sam says awkwardly, feeling the ridiculous urge to bow. Neil frowns in confusion, tilting his head at him while Andrew doesn’t even look. Sam puts his bag of stuff and his phone on the end of his bed.

“You stayed the night?” Neil asks. “Why? I don’t even know you.” Sam shrugs and blushes and looks down at his feet.

“Someone needed to keep me informed; it’s not as if I could get any information from two states over.” Andrew answers for him.

“You drove over two states in one night?” Sam asks, incredulous, and immediately regrets it when Andrew looks at him with his dead-eyed stare. “Right. Whatever. Well, um, try not to get stabbed again?” He offers, and Neil snorts, and then winces.

“You live round here?” Andrew asks before Sam can leave.

“Um, yeah? About two blocks from the park.” Great life choice Sam. Just tell the scary guy with the knives where you live.

“Is there a good ice-cream place?” Sam’s mouth opens and closes feeling distinctly like a goldfish. Andrew five-foot-nothing muscles-galore drawable-face Minyard likes ice cream?

“My girlfriend owns the best ice cream place here actually.” He says, not trying to hide the pride in his voice. “It’s pretty damn good.” Andrew and Neil share another of their unreadable looks.

“Looks like I’m transferring to your team then.” Sam blinks rapidly as Andrew turns back to him. “This ice cream had better be incredible.” He says, and is that a note of affection in the grumbly tone of voice?

“Thanks…”

“Sam.” He supplies, smiling slightly himself now.

“Right. Well I quite probably owe you my life but at least a favour.” Neil says sheepishly. Andrew rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get stabbed again I’ve probably lost about five years from my life span in stress.” Sam jokes. “But if you do want to do me a favour could you both go to the ice cream place sometime when my girlfriend’s working? She’s a big fan, but she’s not one of, like, Those Fans ya know? She’d probably die of happiness just that you bought an ice cream at her place.”

“All you want us to do is buy an ice cream, which we were going to do anyway?” Andrew asks suspiciously. Sam doesn’t really want to think about what has made him so suspicious of good deeds.

“Yeah?” Andrew still doesn’t seem happy, but then, Sam doesn’t think he ever does. “Get better soon. See ya around.” Sam turns and leaves, looking forward to finding his girlfriend in the parking lot and going home.

k�ps�0

[roselesliesource]

In the opening scene of The Good Fight, the world of its acclaimed predecessor The Good Wife is transformed into a post-Trump world. The familiar face of Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski), network television’s favorite liberal boss lady, fills the frame, and pans out to her flipping off her television before the 45th president is sworn in. She’s got better things to do than watch the inauguration. She must draw up her plans for the next chapter: namely, retirement in the South of France. While Lockhart may be plotting her escape from America, Rose Leslie—who plays one of The Good Fight’s headlining new characters, Maia Rindell—just got here, and she has been thoroughly enjoying herself. The 30-year-old Scottish actress arrived in Brooklyn before the election to begin filming her first series on this side of the pond, and now, ahead of The Good Fight’s premiere, we’re meeting at a trendy little breakfast spot in Williamsburg. When I spot Leslie being escorted to my table, she’s chatting with the server like they’re old friends. “My mum and my sister are here, and I brought them here literally two days ago,” she explains. “Oh my god, I love it. It’s so good.” As she eats an omelette and we compare Williamsburg to Camden Town, Leslie is all smiles. She seems ridiculously normal. Nothing about her public persona had led me to believe she wouldn’t be, but like the vast majority of fans, I’d first encountered Leslie in a completely alternate reality: north of the Wall on Game of Thrones. Seeing her as Maia Rindell on The Good Fight was almost more jolting than meeting her in person. As a newly-minted lawyer starting her first job, Maia’s fresh face and wardrobe of suits is quite a contrast with Ygritte’s fur hood and furrowed brow. “Maia’s an intelligent girl,” Leslie says. “She’s not self-entitled despite being an only child of billionaires. And it was nice that she wasn’t covered in dirt or covered in fur.” She laughs.  Those billionaires she mentioned are good friends of Diane Lockhart, which is how Maia lands an associate position at Lockhart, Deckler, Gussman, Lee, Lyman, Gilbert, Lurie, Kagan, Tannenbaum and Associates (try saying that three times fast) one year after the series finale of The Good Wife, which ended in May. Like its predecessor, The Good Fight will feature episodic drama taking place in the courtroom as well as longer, scandalous plot lines inspired by real world events. Last time, Alicia Florrick (Julianna Margulies) was at the center of the storm as she dealt with her politician husband’s Eliot Spitzer-inspired indiscretions. This time, it’s Maia who is unwillingly thrust into the spotlight when her father, Henry Rindell, is arrested for his alleged involvement in a Madoff-style Ponzi scheme. The kicker? Diane Lockhart is one of the victims, so her plan to fly off into the sunset now faces a nebulous hiatus. But by the end of episode one, it’s clear that Diane is one of few people not blaming Maia. They’re both on the outs at the old firm—Diane is getting heat from many of the clients she recommended to the Rindell’s investment fund—and they both manage to find positions at another firm, Reddick, Boseman, & Kolstad. The new firm is a mostly African American one, which likely means the stage is set for the show to tackle more of the racial issues prevalent in the news—police brutality was already at the center of episode one’s case. And another issue The Good Fight will definitely be ripping from the headlines, Leslie divulges, is fake news. “We are just kind of like highlighting the fact that fake news is real, fake news is here, it is gaining momentum, and what world are we living in whereby truth is no longer relevant?” she says. “You realize that fake news is personally affecting [Maia] on social media, jeopardizing her career, and how phenomenally scary that is.” I ask Leslie if the show’s focus on issues was part of the attraction for her. “When I watched The Good Wife,” she says, “I remember realizing as an audience member that it was thought-provoking and intriguing, and that it stimulated conversations in a brilliant way.” She says the show was hugely popular among her friends in London. “In an effortless way, it holds up that mirror to society.” As Maia navigates her way through a scandal that hits close to home, and the rest of us navigate our way through today’s barrage of ever more scandalous news, Leslie says she’s looking forward to detaching from her character, and really getting away from it all. When shooting wraps, she’ll head back to London, where her next role will be planning an epic vacation. “I’ve never been to Asia so I’d like to travel there. And really travel—stay in hostels and do the exploring thing through the eyes of a backpacker. I’ve never done that before, which is why it’s my full-on intention to do it properly.”

[roselesliedaily]

The Ruling on Rose Leslie           

The actress who wooed Jon Snow on Game of Thrones suits up for The Good Fight

  Written by Rachel Wallace

Photographed by David Roemer

Styled by Paul Frederick

In the opening scene of The Good Fight, the world of its acclaimed predecessor The Good Wife is transformed into a post-Trump world. The familiar face of Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski), network television’s favorite liberal boss lady, fills the frame, and pans out to her flipping off her television before the 45th president is sworn in. She’s got better things to do than watch the inauguration. She must draw up her plans for the next chapter: namely, retirement in the South of France.

While Lockhart may be plotting her escape from America, Rose Leslie—who plays one of The Good Fight’s headlining new characters, Maia Rindell—just got here, and she has been thoroughly enjoying herself. The 30-year-old Scottish actress arrived in Brooklyn before the election to begin filming her first series on this side of the pond, and now, ahead of The Good Fight’s premiere, we’re meeting at a trendy little breakfast spot in Williamsburg. When I spot Leslie being escorted to my table, she’s chatting with the server like they’re old friends. “My mum and my sister are here, and I brought them here literally two days ago,” she explains. “Oh my god, I love it. It’s so good.”

As she eats an omelette and we compare Williamsburg to Camden Town, Leslie is all smiles. She seems ridiculously normal. Nothing about her public persona had led me to believe she wouldn’t be, but like the vast majority of fans, I’d first encountered Leslie in a completely alternate reality: north of the Wall on Game of Thrones. Seeing her as Maia Rindell on The Good Fight was almost more jolting than meeting her in person. As a newly-minted lawyer starting her first job, Maia’s fresh face and wardrobe of suits is quite a contrast with Ygritte’s fur hood and furrowed brow.

“Maia’s an intelligent girl,” Leslie says. “She’s not self-entitled despite being an only child of billionaires. And it was nice that she wasn’t covered in dirt or covered in fur.” She laughs.

Those billionaires she mentioned are good friends of Diane Lockhart, which is how Maia lands an associate position at Lockhart, Deckler, Gussman, Lee, Lyman, Gilbert, Lurie, Kagan, Tannenbaum and Associates (try saying that three times fast) one year after the series finale of The Good Wife, which ended in May. Like its predecessor, The Good Fight will feature episodic drama taking place in the courtroom as well as longer, scandalous plot lines inspired by real world events. Last time, Alicia Florrick (Julianna Margulies) was at the center of the storm as she dealt with her politician husband’s Eliot Spitzer-inspired indiscretions.

This time, it’s Maia who is unwillingly thrust into the spotlight when her father, Henry Rindell, is arrested for his alleged involvement in a Madoff-style Ponzi scheme. The kicker? Diane Lockhart is one of the victims, so her plan to fly off into the sunset now faces a nebulous hiatus. But by the end of episode one, it’s clear that Diane is one of few people not blaming Maia. They’re both on the outs at the old firm—Diane is getting heat from many of the clients she recommended to the Rindell’s investment fund—and they both manage to find positions at another firm, Reddick, Boseman, & Kolstad.

The new firm is a mostly African American one, which likely means the stage is set for the show to tackle more of the racial issues prevalent in the news—police brutality was already at the center of episode one’s case. And another issue The Good Fight will definitely be ripping from the headlines, Leslie divulges, is fake news. “We are just kind of like highlighting the fact that fake news is real, fake news is here, it is gaining momentum, and what world are we living in whereby truth is no longer relevant?” she says. “You realize that fake news is personally affecting [Maia] on social media, jeopardizing her career, and how phenomenally scary that is.”

I ask Leslie if the show’s focus on issues was part of the attraction for her. “When I watched The Good Wife,” she says, “I remember realizing as an audience member that it was thought-provoking and intriguing, and that it stimulated conversations in a brilliant way.” She says the show was hugely popular among her friends in London. “In an effortless way, it holds up that mirror to society.”

As Maia navigates her way through a scandal that hits close to home, and the rest of us navigate our way through today’s barrage of ever more scandalous news, Leslie says she’s looking forward to detaching from her character, and really getting away from it all. When shooting wraps, she’ll head back to London, where her next role will be planning an epic vacation. “I’ve never been to Asia so I’d like to travel there. And really travel—stay in hostels and do the exploring thing through the eyes of a backpacker. I’ve never done that before, which is why it’s my full-on intention to do it properly.”

[writingshiz]

Subtle Unraveling Chapter 4: Uniforms and Unicorns

Summary:

In which humanity's strongest soldiers kick some ass

Chapter Text

"You sure you don't need help?" Hanji asked him as she wiped her glasses with her shirt, her small frown a little humorous.

Levi scowled, stiffly pushing his arms into his jacket. His soreness hadn't been so bad yesterday—but this morning he'd barely rolled over in bed and his entire body had gone into spasms. "I'm perfectly fine."

Hanji smirked as she pushed her glasses back on. "Aren't you in a chipper mood this morning, Levi? Here, have some tea. It ought to help relax your muscles a bit."

Levi pressed his lips together prissily. The last time she'd given him a tea to 'relax' him he'd woken up on the floor, open-mouthed with a pool of drool beneath his cheek. Disgusting.

Her train of thought seemed to follow his and she giggled to herself. "I'll half the dosage."

Levi shook his head. "Don't bother." He looked out the window with narrowed eyes. The sunlight was just starting to bleed into the sky. "I need to get going."

Hanji nodded, leaping up when he went for the door. "Here." She stuffed something—bread?—into his hands. "You should eat something before you leave."

He nodded grudgingly and opened the door.

"It has meat!" She shouted in a sing-song voice and he sighed, shutting the door with a shake of his head.

The woman was as strange as they made them.

He was walking down the hall when he saw Jean muttering to himself in front of Mikasa's room door. He looked filthy as hell—he could smell the horse shit stench from here. He'd almost forgotten he'd placed him on stable duty.

Jean knocked on her door uncertainly.

He heard Mikasa call out, sounding strained. "Come in."

Jean entered, leaving the door open a crack.

The bloody brat obviously wasn't busy enough if he had time to be knocking on her door. He was persistent—had been for…years, if what he'd heard was true. While his infatuation irritated him there was a certain look on Jean's face whenever Mikasa appeared that unsettled him deeply. There was a softness to it, a tenderness and warmth that left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

If he didn't know better he would say Jean was in love with her.

He wondered if Mikasa knew.

He wondered if she felt anything in return. It would be logical, wouldn't it? They were both around the same age; they'd both trained together and Jean had also risked his life for her. Yes, it would be rational if Mikasa returned his feelings. Expected, even.

And he shouldn't give a damn.

There was a strange heat and unease that bloomed within his chest and stomach, and he felt his fists clench. He slid towards her door, feeling pulled forward unwillingly, invisible strings snapping his muscles taut as he gripped the door handle and watched through the open crack.

Mikasa's body was much, much worse. She leaned forward onto the desk, pressing her damp palms flat against the scarred, polished surface. This was ridiculous. She'd woken with a skull splitting head ache and barely been able to shower and dress herself this morning—and it left her feeling sapped of her usual strength. She glared at her jacket, only one of her arms through the sleeve. It dangled off her shoulder haphazardly.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in." She muttered.

Jean stepped in, looking flushed and hesitant and…filthy. "Hey, Mikasa." He fidgeted slightly. "I've noticed you…ah, the horse…your nervousness."

She frowned a little. It took her only a moment to understand. "My nervousness?"

He scratched the back of his head and swallowed thickly. He spotted the way her jacket hung off her shoulder awkwardly. "Do you need help?"

She looked away. She'd been hoping it would be Armin or Eren. "If you don't mind."

He came towards her. "Hold still." He shifted behind her, adjusting her jacket gently. "Put your arm in." She slid it in with a grimace, her entire back cramping. "There you go." Jean murmured, stepping away with a fierce blush. "Ah, your hair is under the jacket…" He stepped forward before she could protest, his dirt smeared hands reaching up to loosen her hair.

"Thank you."

His hands lingered on her jaw, his eyes on her mouth.

Levi had looked at her like this, with heat and want. He'd shown a rare tenderness in those brief moments, a darkness that had threatened to consume her—a look that made her wonder what kind of sensations he could tug out of her. She'd felt anxious, almost anticipating his promising touch.

Jean's thumb slid over her jaw tenderly.

Why didn't it feel the same? There was no hitch in her breathing, no nervousness or desire burning within her as she observed the way Jean was looking at her. She was only calm. Still and in control as always.

She pulled away. "Thank you, Jean."

He stepped back. "Y-you're welcome." He blinked rapidly. "I saddled my horse for you. She's much calmer than your horse. I thought it would be better for you since you aren't at your best health right now."

Surprised, she nodded. "Thank you. You didn't have to."

He shook his head. "I should have helped you when you were trying to get Sasha down. I should have gone for my gear or gotten someone who already had their gear but instead I just watched. And you were hurt. I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Jean, you didn't—"

The door opened abruptly, and they both turned to see Levi enter. He looked at them icily, his brows raised haughtily. "Forgive me for interrupting your little tête-à-tête but we need to leave. Out, Ackerman. Kirschtein, get back to the stables. The horses can't shovel their own shit."

His words were stiff and cruel—Jean fumbled as he nodded, looking a little disgruntled.

"Yes, Heichou." He left the room with his head bowed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. It was one thing to enter her bedroom without knocking and another to tell people to leave it as if he owned her space.

She pulled her torn scarf off the chair, bundling it into a ball. "I'll be out in a minute."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "We need to leave. Now."

She clenched her jaw. Just moments ago she'd put labels on him like 'tender' and 'heated' but now he was all ice and steel, and she wanted to throttle him. She was a fool for thinking anything else of him. "Is it a custom of yours, Heichou, to enter a soldier's room without knocking?"

He looked at her drolly. "Angry that I interrupted your moment with Kirschtein?"

She felt herself flush. "He was helping me with my jacket."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Was he? It rather looked as if he'd much prefer help remove your clothing. I thought I was doing you a favor. He smelled like shit anyway."

She bit back her ire and stuffed her shredded scarf into her jacket pocket, ignoring the way her muscles tightened as she walked towards him. "Is it also a custom of yours to ask your soldiers about their personal relationships?" She was inches from him now, tempted to shove him out the door and lock it for good measure.

His eyes narrowed, his tone dropping several notches. "It is when it involves you." He cocked his head, looking almost mystified. "I want to learn you." His gaze dropped to her mouth again, his words sounding almost unwilling. "I don't really understand it myself."

She felt the air leave her lungs again. Before she could speak—or remember to inhale—he straightened and opened the door. "Come on. We're already late."

She followed behind him, outwardly collected, and inwardly reeling.

They swung off their horses and entered through the tall gates, a young dark-haired male walking towards them quickly.

When he reached them he bowed respectfully, rigidly, his bowl cut black hair shimmering in the weakening sunlight. "We've been expecting you. I'm Marlo Freudenberg."

"We ran a little late." Levi murmured. The pace they'd set had been a bit brutal but slow nonetheless, their bodies still much too achy for anything more. They'd also been silent the entire time and he'd almost smirked at the way she blushed whenever he caught her looking at him. "This is Mikasa Ackerman."

Marlo said something but Levi's attention was momentarily diverted by the appearance of a group of men behind him.

There were about five of them huddled under the archway, their military police uniforms sloppily worn. Their gazes were none too discreetly eyeing him and Mikasa—lingering more so on her then him.

Levi narrowed his eyes.

Mikasa hesitated for a moment then stepped forward grudgingly.

Marlo looked at her—and blushed vividly. "Mikasa…Ah, Ackerman." He held out his hand and clutched hers, shaking it clumsily. "We've heard plenty about you. They mentioned your skill and bravery but they never mentioned how beautiful you were."

Levi grimaced again hearing their conversation as a young woman brought him a small canteen of water and a horse—he fully intended to prowl about the small town for a few hours, knew he'd be restless if he stayed to wait about here with these corrupt pigs. He drank deeply as he watched her. Did the woman attract men everywhere she went? He watched Mikasa out of the corner of his gaze as he pulled himself onto his horse but she looked as unruffled and composed as always.

She nodded at Marlo curtly. "Thank you."

Marlo gave her a small loopy smile. "Come with me. The king isn't quite ready yet but I can show you around until he is." He offered nervously.

The group of men still stood there, looking almost eager, waiting for Mikasa to walk towards them.

Mikasa, infuriatingly oblivious to Marlo's admiration and the other's lascivious looks, nodded and stepped forward.

The pigs were all relatively young, most of them an impressive size. Yes, she looked ignorant of all of the attention but how long would that last until one of them peaked her interest? Any one of these men could offer her a very comfortable, luxurious life here—safety.

And he shouldn't bloody care.

Snapping, Levi caught her sleeve and tugged her towards him, gripping the sides of her jacket tightly. She struggled but he only pulled her in closer, forcing her on her toes as he yanked her against the side of the horse.

"Heichou, what—?"

Levi ignored her and looked at Marlo. "A moment."

Marlo nodded dumbly. "Of course."

Mikasa was about to protest when he clamped his palm over her soft mouth. "Don't speak." He growled, sending the group of men a pointed glance, relishing the way they looked away. "You will behave. You will hear out all of the king's offers. You will keep your violent tendencies leashed because any wrong move you make reflects on the scouting legion." Releasing her mouth, he let his other hand slide under her jacket, grasping her ribs. He was doing this—publicly—to stake his claim, he knew, as petulant as it was, but he could feel the harsh wave of desire brutally tighten his body, too. "But you will remember your brats, Armin and Eren. You will remember that they need you. You will remember the reason you joined us at all." He reached into her pocket discreetly. "And you will make your choice free of what anyone else needs or wants and pray that you do not regret your choice." He touched her chin, his mouth hovering over hers. "Do you understand?"

Her pulse was thrashing at the base of her pale throat, her jaw clenched. Her gaze screamed a mixture of desire and bloody murder, her fingers painfully tight around his wrist. "Yes, Heichou."

His hands lingered on her briefly. "Good." He murmured in satisfaction, promptly releasing her.

She gave a little huff as she landed on her heels, her blush lovely and tempting. She straightened her jacket self-consciously—looked as if she wanted to say something snarky but bit back her tongue and walked towards Marlo.

He smirked, discreetly stuffing her scarf into his jacket pocket.

He knew she'd make him pay for this later.

"Here we keep all of our gear." Marlo murmured, his eyes alight with a child-like excitement. He clicked open a heavy case, displaying the gear within it. "Brand new." He beamed, when his gaze suddenly fell. "We rarely get to use it, really."

Mikasa silently agreed. Her gear was a little banged up, scrapes and scuffs marring it, betraying how often she'd used it. She ran her fingertips over the polished surface wonderingly. It looked more like a trophy of sorts, some grand display more than an actual weapon.

Marlo sighed and shut the case, leading her out into the hall again. He'd done this a few times, already; one minute he was excitededly showing her something, bragging about the military police when he suddenly seemed to realize something, and like waking from a dream he'd purse his lips and become momentarily silent. He'd shake it off after a minute, attempting to hide his dismay and Mikasa followed him as he babbled airily.

They rounded a corner when an older man with thinning gray hair appeared, eyeing her appreciatively. "Bringing in fresh meat, eh, Marlo?" He cackled, his pale green gaze locked onto Mikasa as he stepped forward.

Marlo stepped between them protectively, and Mikasa only arched her brow. She really didn't need defending. But Levi had warned her to keep her violent tendencies restrained. The scouting legion didn't need any more scrutiny or criticism than it had already received.

Marlo puffed out his chest as he spoke. "This is Mikasa Ackerman of the scouting legion. Her skill is deadly enough to have garnered the attention of our king. She has been brought here to speak with the king as he wishes to offer her a position within his guard. A position that would most likely outrank yours."

The elderly man lifted his hands in surrender, grinning at Marlo wryly. "No need to get all huffy, Marlo. I simply wished to introduce myself."

Marlo shook his head. "I'm giving her a tour. You can introduce yourself afterwards."

The elderly man looked at Mikasa again. "I can show you around. Plenty of spare bedrooms around." He winked.

Marlo clenched his jaw then turned to face Mikasa. "Come on. This way."

He led her down another hall, silent and fuming. He was genuinely upset, she noted, frowning at his back. She wondered why he'd be so angry on her behalf. She'd understand if it had been Eren or perhaps even Armin but Marlo? She'd met him all of a few minutes ago. He seemed to gather his composure as they reached another door.

"And this, well, this is where we have our meetings." Marlo opened the door with a flourish—and stiffened when he saw what was happening within it. Mikasa peeked curiously.

Several men and women were gathered around a large round table. Their military jackets were strewn about the room recklessly, every inch of the tables surface littered with ashes, coins, alcohol and cigars—some still lit others smoked and hollowed. The acrid, suffocating stench of smoke struck them offensively, and Marlo shut the door hastily, clearing his throat and blinking his watery eyes.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, his voice raspy. He pressed his fingers to the backs of his eyelids. "Your impression of us must seem awful. This isn't…this isn't the only thing the Military police is." His dark head was bent in defeat. "I'm sure if someone as brave and skilled as you joined us you could help change things. You could help me make things better."

Surprised, she questioned him. "You wish to change things?"

His frown deepened. "Yes. I want to rid it of corruption—I want being in the military police to be something to be proud of and not something shameful." He touched the emblem of the unicorn on the door wistfully. "Our uniforms might as well be decorated with pigs."

"Pigs spread filth where they can, whether they're decorated as unicorns or not."

A young woman appeared around the corner, spotting them and rushing over. "Marlo! The king is ready for her."

Marlo straightened, smiling at Mikasa self-consciously. "Are you ready?"

She inhaled deeply. She felt inexplicably nervous. "I am."

There was a vast assortment of shops—but Levi was only looking for one in particular. He spotted a grimy window and a shoddy wooden door, a wooden sign atop carved with the symbol of a winding thread and needle.

He pushed the door—knobless—open and eyed the elderly, wrinkled woman who sat perched on a small stool, her thin worn dress rucked up a little scandalously.

She peered at him with squinted eyes. "Need more tailoring, Levi?" She murmured with familiarity, continuing to thread into a paper yellow dress neatly.

He shook his head, eyeing the bareness of her shop and recalling how it had once been full of people and overflowing in a sea of clothing. It seemed she hadn't had much business of late. "Just this, Sophia." He pulled out Mikasa's scarf and handed it to her.

Slowly, moving as if every bone in her body ached, she put down her dress and thread and needle, holding out her wrinkly, veined hands. She grasped the scarf and eyed the frayed edges in dismay. "I have plenty of scarves, Levi; ones much fancier than this."

He shook his head. "It isn't for me. It's for a comrade. This dingy thing…means the world to her."

She arched a thick silver brow at him, grinning her toothless grin. "Giving gifts out now, are we? It's about time you've gotten around to wooing someone. I was beginning to think you were holding out for me."

Levi's brows rose. "You're much too expensive."

She cackled to herself, thumbing through a small tray of spools. "I saw you pass by earlier with a young woman—all self-righteous on your horses. Pretty, that one—exotic, too. Had several of the street rats eyeing her speculatively, muttering about how much they could get for her." She looped a string through the needle deftly. "I knew there wasn't anything to worry about. She had that look about her—the same one you have. The one that says she can very well take care of herself."

Levi sat down on a chair, trying to peer out of the filthy window. "She can."

Sophia chuckled a little to herself. "If you really want to impress her you could just buy her a fancier scarf. There's this one here—look, it matches your eyes. It's what she'll think every time she looks at it."

Levi ignored her goading. "How long will this take you?"

"Repairing the damage should be easy. If you'd like I could give it a good wash and I have some dye out in the back that should make it look new. But that'll cost extra." She held out her hand expectantly.

Muttering beneath his breath, Levi tugged out his coin pouch and handed her the money. She peered at the amount then shook her head. "This only covers the repair and the wash. Not the dye."

"You really are bloody expensive." He doubled the amount.

She looked satisfied. "Give me two hours."

He nodded. "I'll give you one and a half." He left the shop and stepped out into the street.

"It doesn't only have to be you." He murmured quietly, stopping her midway through the door.

Mikasa paused, her fingers curling around the door handle. She'd heard everything he'd had to say with only half an ear, her mind elsewhere. The money and luxury had held no real appeal to her, had only made her recall the cozy and worn surfaces within the scouting legion, well used and well-loved.

"I've heard about your adopted brother and his friend. I knew asking you to join me also included them. We could overlook the fact that Eren Yeager is a titan shifter—he's proven to be well controlled. He could share in your comfort. He could be safe."

She shut her eyes. His other words had bounced off her easily but these struck her deeply. How desperately had she tried to keep Eren safe? How many times had she almost lost him? Being in the scouting legion she knew it was inevitable—she could lose him at any moment. Could she really keep living wondering, fearing, and dreading that the next time may be the last time?

"But you will remember your brats, Armin and Eren. You will remember that they need you. You will remember the reason you joined us at all…and you will make your choice free of what anyone else needs or wants and pray that you do not regret your choice."

She could try to force Eren to join the military police. He'd be safe—or safer here than in the survey corps. But he wouldn't come. He'd fight her tooth and nail. He had purpose burning within him, an ambition that seemed so farfetched and hopeless that it either made people laugh at him or believe in him. And somehow it had infected her, warped her one and only goal to protect Eren into also helping him, helping them all achieve that goal. She was good at it, a natural, dropping titan after titan easily. She was strong, they'd told her plenty of times, even compared her to Levi.

She wondered briefly why he hadn't chosen the military police. He was rather close mouthed about his personal ambitions, about his wants and it was a puzzle she didn't quite understand. Why did he keep fighting? He seemed like the kind of man that could easily spend the rest of his days secluded and alone, without a care in the world. But he kept fighting, his prowess unmatched, a rare rage gripping him madly in those brief moments when he was cutting down titans.

Perhaps he had had someone to protect once. An Eren that he'd done everything to protect but had failed regardless.

This was all speculation of course but she couldn't help but think it because he reminded her of herself.

Could she even try to stay here? Perhaps try to ignore everything, the entire world, in exchange for her soul? No. She refused.

Staying here, wrapped in safety and ignorance—she'd only rot away, body and spirit.

She could never leave Eren to his fate. She couldn't ever forget Armin. She had formed slight, thin bonds with their squad mates. Slight and thin, but precious to her nonetheless.

She'd fought with Levi plenty of times, had struggled long and hard to match him, had been viciously pleased when he'd begun to lean on her, teach her what he could because he'd deemed her capable.

They were skilled. They were deadly. Their roles were to protect as many of their comrades as they could. It was the responsibility of the strong.

Pray that you do not regret your choice.

"Thank you." She murmured softly. "But I made my choice long ago."

He sighed and before he could say anything else she left.

He walked about a little aimlessly, searching for nothing in particular.

When was the last time he'd been so idle?

He kept wandering down a few streets, finding himself treading familiar territory. Unpleasant memories began to flicker through him and he pressed his lips together.

He should be heading back now. Sophia should be done with the scarf. Mikasa should have been done with her stupid meeting.

He frowned at nothing in particular, recalling how the men had looked at Mikasa lecherously. She was beautiful, he knew, drawing attention even as she tried to be invisible. It had made his jaw clench, a distaste fill him bitterly. Mikasa had plenty of options for romance—Jean, Marlo, any one of those pigs that had eyed her, perhaps even Eren—

And he shouldn't bloody care.

"It can't be…"

He turned to his left, narrowing his eyes into the dark, grimy alley, searching for the source of the voice. There was a small group of men huddled between the walls—seven, nine, no about twelve of them—and one man stepped towards him curiously.

"I remember you." The man murmured, his dirty face coming into view as he stepped into the fading sunlight. "They call you the strongest soldier, don't they….Levi is it now?"

His smirk was as filthy and haggard as his body and clothing. The rest of the men shifted forward, eyeing his pristine uniform covetously, enviously. Levi grimaced. He recognized this man from his past, a bitterness on his tongue.

Claude.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew their intentions were nothing but trouble and he wasn't at his best physical condition at the moment and he was without his gear. He could take down maybe a handful but not all of them—and if his memory served him correctly Claude had been one of the crueler thugs he'd known, his sadistic streak becoming well-known even when they'd been young men.

Levi had never liked Claude and Claude had known it. They'd gotten into a scuffle once with Levi as the victor—and Levi had joined the scouting legion before Claude had been able to enact his revenge.

It's funny how second chances were given to the undeserving.

Levi nodded carelessly. "Do they?" He murmured flippantly, leaning against the wall strategically. The buildings about them looked very dilapidated and abandoned. He looked to his left quickly. The townspeople were quite a ways down. Even if they did see a scuffle he doubted they'd come to his aid. "I never really paid much attention, between ripping the titans to shreds and helping run the recon corps, I've been kept quite busy."

Claude smiled, his mostly broken teeth presenting a gruesome sight. "Too busy to help out old friends?"

Levi couldn't help but focus on his black gummed smile. He shuddered a little in revulsion. "Much too busy."

Claude smirked. "I'll forgive you, if you cooperate." Claude looked over his shoulder at his comrades, nodding towards Levi. "Take everything he's got."

Levi gave one last hopeful look down the street and sighed.

He supposed he really didn't have much of a choice.

Before the black mouthed fiend could move away Levi kneed his abdomen viciously, grabbing Claude's oily hair in his fist and slamming his knee into his face. He dropped like a puppet cut from its strings—and it was like a reenactment of their younger days. Claude hadn't leaned much, it seemed.

"Why don't you try to take it yourself?" He muttered, wiping his palms on his jacket reflexively.

The rest of the men surged on him and he punched and kicked swiftly, almost relishing the sounds of bones snapping, their cries of pain—but his body was stiff, protesting every movement. He delivered another rapid kick to man he'd dropped when he felt someone grab the back of his jacket and throw him backwards.

He grunted as he hit the ground, sliding into the middle of street. He felt a kick explode across his jaw, sending him rolling and he coughed on his own blood. They pounced on him before he could stand, gripping his wrists and pulling his arms up over his head. He struggled briefly but they restrained him quickly, forcing him up on his knees before them.

He swallowed a mouthful of blood, his stomach turning as he glowered up at the men. There were only four of them standing, holding him down. The rest were either unconscious or slowly, painfully getting to their feet.

One of the thugs gripped his hair in his grubby fist and arched his neck back. "Small son of a bitch." His rank breath wafted over his face, his eerie yellow-brown eyes scrutinizing him. "But you're pretty fast."

Not fast enough.

"On your feet."

They pulled him up—he hooked his boot behind his ankle and head butted his face, flipping the man onto his back.

They tackled him again, his cheek scraping against the dirt until he felt his skin tear.

"Really fast." The man muttered, pulling out a knife and pressing the dull blade against Levi's damp throat. His breath dusted against the ground. "Might want not want to make any sudden movements." He looked at the rest of the men. "Get his boots. Check his pockets. The jacket—we can get a good amount for it. Try not to tear anything."

He felt them tug his boots and jacket off, heard them murmur giddily when they found his pouch of coins.

"What about the shirt?"

The man flipped Levi onto his back. "It's a little torn and he got blood on it but it'll do."

They grabbed his wrist and pulled his arms out tightly, his grimy fingers working at the buttons clumsily. His face hovered over his, his nauseating breath suffocating him.

Levi scowled, flinching when they yanked the shirt off of him and pulled him onto his knees. He was left in his undershirt and pants, barefoot and beltless.

He never was one to display his vulnerability however. "You all smell like shit."

They kicked his ribs, and he grunted, hunching forward.

The thug wielding the knife laughed at him raucously, eyeing Levi's kneeling form appreciatively. "Do we kill you?" He tilted his head to the side. "Or do we send you back black and blue with your tail tucked between your legs?"

Levi spit blood. "Just bloody kill me. Spend my money on a few bars of soap. You'll do us all a favor by bathing. Your appearance alone is nauseating but your stench is eye watering."

The man flushed a mottled red color, his hygiene clearly a sore spot. "You've got quite a mouth on you, don't you?"

Levi was about to retort when the man suddenly dug his knife into the front of his under shirt, tearing it away violently. They all stared at his bare, bruised chest for several moments.

Levi arched a brow. "Impressed?"

They punched him, pain exploding across the left side of his face.

He hung his head, felt the warmth of blood fall from his split bottom lip. He saw the tip of the blade lightly trace the hard lines of his chest and stomach.

"We'll send you back." The man concluded, a darker note in his tone. "With a nice message carved into your chest."

Levi gritted his teeth and braced himself.

The elderly woman grasped the scarf with deft, scarred fingers, checking its dryness. She tugged it off the small wire out in the sunlight, stretching out the scarf to examine it critically. Repairing it had been relatively easy—it was the softness and color of the fabric that had made her charge Levi twice the usual price. Having sewed it up, washed it and refreshed its color it looked almost new. Still, anyone with a good enough eye could tell it was well-worn.

It was an old thing, but pretty and well-loved.

She recalled the way Levi had looked at it, with a mixture of regret and dismay. It's for a comrade. This dingy thing…means the world to her.

She knew that look.

She glanced down the street again. It was past two hours now. Levi was usually very prompt—but she'd seen him walk down a street everyone here knew no one should.

She spotted the woman who'd accompanied Levi earlier, high on her horse, another horse tied to hers. But Levi wasn't with her. "Girl," She called and the woman's dark, bottomless eyes locked onto her with an eerie sereneness. "Levi paid for this."

She held out the folded scarf.

The dark-haired woman leapt off her horse and walked towards her, frowning. "Paid…?"

Sophia nodded. "To have it repaired. He muttered something about it being for a comrade. I assume that was you."

She took the scarf almost reverently. She splayed it between her hands, her pale fingers gripping it tightly, possessively.

"You may want to look for him." She sat back in her chair, searching for her needle to begin her next job. "He went down that way." She gestured down the street with a wrinkly, papery hand. "That isn't a good place for anyone to wander alone." She felt her hands tremble a little. "I've lost a few people to these streets."

The girl's eyes darkened dangerously. She stepped back, wrapping the scarf around her neck snugly. "Do you mind if I tie my horses here for a few minutes?"

"Not at all." Sophia murmured, watching her expression curiously. The girl was rather trusting. She could sell the horses for a small fortune.

"Thank you." Her tone was flat and empty as she handed her a generous amount of coins.

Sophia watched her walk away, her steps sure, her eyes scanning their surroundings swiftly, thoroughly. Something about her walk was predatory, clearing the crowds the instant she began walking.

Levi had been right to assume that the scarf had meant something to the girl; but he had failed to mention what he'd meant to her.

She'd seen that look before, too.

She thumbed the coins in her hand. She'd made quite a pretty amount today. She saw two shadowy figures walk towards her from the alleyway, holding a very familiar uniform in their hands, the stiching done by her own hand. One of the men held it out towards her.

"How much for this?" He asked her, his black eyes small and narrow.

Sophia sighed. She might as well make good use of her coin.

Levi was used to pain.

He'd been through much, much worse, physically and mentally. The blade scored down his chest a second time, and he gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw would snap.

"You've gotten awful quiet." Claude murmured smugly, examining the blood tipped blade idly. The attempt at intimidation was ruined, however, by the large bandage over his broken nose. "You still have your tongue, don't you?" He gripped Levi's jaw and lifted his face, pressing the tip of the blade against his mouth.

"Boss?"

Claude scowled, pulling away from Levi.

Levi slumped forward, the ropes still holding him off the ground. They'd done a number on him. He wasn't sure if he could stay conscious for much longer. Claude had only begun taunting Levi after he'd been tied up of course. Apparently, Claude had learned a few things. Like how to have others fight his battles for him.

"What?"

"There's a girl coming down the street towards us." The other thug mumbled, gesturing to Levi. "She's got the same uniform as him." The look in his eye changed, and it made Levi's stomach twist in alarm. "She looks…different. I haven't seen people that look like her. I already sent the rest of them after her."

Mikasa.

Claude pocketed his knife and stood. He walked over to the small, half open window, shifting carefully to peer outside. He hummed in approval. "Is she your subordinate, Levi?" Claude grinned. "You lucky son of a bitch."

He needed to keep their focus on him. They'd sliced at him and given him a few punches and kicks but they'd do much, much worse to her.

But, Levi thought, he could recall how spectacularly Mikasa had flopped the rest of the soldiers around as if they'd been rag dolls. Most of them were still unconscious and hurt; she could probably take the rest if they didn't get the knife on her.

But there was a knife.

And Mikasa was weaponless.

The men murmured quietly between themselves, and Levi grimaced. He knew it wasn't likely to work but he had to try something.

"You don't want to try anything with her." Levi spoke through the blood in his mouth. "She's a beast of a woman. She may be worse than me."

They looked at him skeptically, their backs facing the window when a shadow passed over it.

"I am."

Her voice.

They barely had enough time to see a limp male body flying towards the window pane. The body struck it and the window shattered, the men falling back and shielding their faces against the glittering shards.

She swung through the window like a storm, her boot connecting with Claude's face, snapping his head back violently. The other thug tried to kick her but she caught his boot in her hands, striking his ankle with her elbow and snapping it cleanly. Screaming in pain, he fell to the ground beneath her where she punched his throat swiftly.

Claude was still alive—miraculously—and surged up, brandishing his knife.

Levi pulled against the ropes. "Mikasa—"

She leapt back as he swung, the blade slicing her shirt, blood seeping through the white, spreading over her abdomen.

He swung again but she bared her teeth and caught his wrist, twisting him and kicking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground, groaning. Mikasa held his bloody knife in her hand, twirling it as she looked down at him like he was a roach she was contemplating stepping on. She placed her boot on his chest, pinning him to the ground like a worm.

She looked up at him now and Levi tried for nonchalance, a little impressed. Well, perhaps a little more than impressed. The bloody woman was a monster. "A little late, aren't you, Ackerman?"

Her eyes darkened as she scanned his bloody, tied body, her lips pressing together. There was something in her gaze he couldn't quite place, a dull pain of past memories. "Forgive me, Heichou."

"Fucking bitch." Claude gurgled idiotically, squirming beneath her futilely.

She straddled his chest, raising the knife.

He tried to punch her but she swatted his hand away easily, pinning his elbow with her knee, her other hand pressing the bloody knife to his mouth. "Quiet." She murmured, her voice deceivingly, hair-raisingly soft. "Or I'll make you swallow your own blade."

Claude went statue still. "Please."

"You can make him swallow the blade after you use it to cut me free, Ackerman. I rather enjoy the thought of him trying to shit that out." Levi watched the frighteningly blank expression masking her emotions, knew she'd almost be capable of coldly murdering him without batting an eye.

Somehow this made her all the more thrilling to him—the sense of danger that clung to her, the darkness that she hid so well. But he didn't want her to regret this for the rest of her life. He didn't want her to be any more like him than she already was.

"Ackerman." He called again and she only gripped the knife tighter.

"Mikasa." He tried, more gently. She looked at him, her dark and deeply troubled gaze tugging at him. "Cut me down."

Hesitantly, she nodded, looking a little dazed, as if waking from a dream. She stood, grabbing a coiled rope beside them. He was about to ask what the devil she was doing when she suddenly began deftly hog tying Claude.

Levi smirked at Claude's squawks, downright almost grinned when Mikasa flipped him over none too gently, tying the rope over his mouth. She searched his pockets, retrieving his coin pouch. She walked over to him now, reaching up to cut down his ropes. "You've lost a lot of blood, Heichou." She tip toed before him, neatly cutting the rope away from his chafed wrists. He slumped forward onto her heavily, his face burrowing into her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, all heat and female, blood, a lingering trace of soap and cigar smoke—from the military police, perhaps.

She stilled for a moment—then pulled his arm over her neck.

"You got the scarf." He murmured, the loss of blood making him feel a little light headed. He felt oddly disappointed. He'd wanted to see her expression when she first saw it.

She nodded. "Where are your clothes?"

He looked down at himself. Ah, yes, clothing. He was almost completely naked except for a pair of shorts. "I think they've sold them already."

He couldn't quite tell in the falling twilight, but it looked as if she was blushing. She leaned him against the wall and removed her jacket.

"Here" She pulled it over his shoulders. He slid his arms through the sleeves with a grimace, eyeing the men sprawled across the street randomly.

He was about to ask if she'd done this alone when two men suddenly lurched out from the shadows, slamming Mikasa and him against the wall. Mikasa was quick enough—and strong enough—to twist to face her assailant, head butting him viciously. He fell back and she was on him lightning quick, every punch swift, every movement lethal. But the man was a large, burly one, the size of Erwin, and muscled like him, too.

His fists were slow however, and Mikasa spun around him easily. Infuriated the man grasped the front of her shirt and lifted her off her feet with one hand, slamming her onto the ground harshly. Mikasa twisted beneath him, not in the least deterred, managing to wrap her leg around the man's face and prying him off of her with sheer strength.

The man pinning him tried to help his friend—but Levi took advantage of his turned back, wrapping his arm around the thug's throat and choking him out.

The man struggled against his hold vainly. Levi arched a brow, pressing into his windpipe more tightly. "Where the hell are my clothes you filthy rats?"

Not that he expected an answer—nor would he let him speak. He only tightened his hold until the man slid down, unconscious and boneless.

Levi leaned against the wall heavily—Mikasa was sprawled on the ground, breathing rapidly, her fight won.

"Oi, Mikasa." Levi called, making his way towards her. "Are you hurt?"

The beast of a man she'd been fighting looked rather worse for the wear, awkwardly slumped against the wall, his arm bent at an awkward angle—most definitely broken. Levi wasn't quite sure the man was alive.

He fell to his knees beside Mikasa, eyeing her. She looked a little winded, and there was still the large scratch across her abdomen but she looked relatively well.

"Are you alright?" He asked again.

She nodded breathlessly. "I'm fine."

He arched his brows, surveying the downed men again. He remembered his question. "Did you take them all down alone?"

She looked a little smug now. "They didn't suspect someone like me. I took them by surprise."

Levi eyed her beneath him, sweat glistening across her pale flushed skin prettily. Her scarf was draped away from her neck and across the dirt like a line of blood, the top buttons of her shirt torn off, exposing her throat, collarbones and top of her full chest. She was as beautiful as she was deadly.

He crouched over her. Of course they wouldn't have expected her; she'd taken him by surprise, also, hooking her claws into him before he'd even known she had any. No, Levi thought darkly, skimming his hand over her hip and up her waist, grasping the side of her ribs—he'd known how dangerous she was. He'd wanted her nonetheless. He wanted to sink his own claws within her, make her grit her teeth with desire like she did to him.

Perhaps it was the blood loss, or the relief of being saved, or perhaps the relief that she had returned and hadn't accepted any offers, that she hadn't allowed herself to be corrupted—or perhaps it was simply his own selfish need to take, to have her, to claim her after watching Jean, Marlo and every other man who'd laid eyes on her want her.

She looked up at him through half closed lids, her lips parted, her breathing slowing, deepening. He lowered his head slowly, letting his mouth hover over hers.

She shifted beneath him, her hands skimming restlessly over the ground. She shut her eyes expectantly, tilting her face up sweetly. He smirked a little, holding out, brushing his mouth over her lashes, her nose, the corners of her mouth. Just a little longer, he told himself, anticipation grinding hard on his bones. He kissed her upper lip, nudging, encouraging her to open her mouth a little more for him.

She parted her lips obediently, her fingers reaching up to grasp his bare, hard waist.

He clenched his hand into her hair, angled her head beneath his before finally locking his mouth over hers, drinking from her parted lips deeply. She inhaled sharply beneath him but he only held her still, hungrily tasting her, unmindful of her hesitance. He swept his tongue into her mouth over and over, searching her, savoring the feel of her open mouth, of her soft lips, of her tiny gasps.

Her fingers splayed over the muscles in his back, clutching at him as she finally, unsurely, moved her mouth against his. He hummed encouragingly, grasping both sides of her head firmly as he grinded his mouth lusciously over hers.

She was learning his kiss quickly, her tongue meeting the sweeps of his own tentatively at first, then more surely. She tasted of clean skin, of water and something else, something that drove him a little mad. He was both furious and relieved that he hadn't kissed her before; as it was he wasn't sure if he could stop. She kept moving beneath him, arching, making little soft sounds that he swallowed greedily. His teeth caught at her bottom lip impatiently as his fingers flicked the buttons of her shirt open deftly. He slid his hand beneath her shirt, placing his damp palm over her racing heart, sliding lower, murmuring soothingly when she stiffened. He slowed the kiss by sheer will, pulling his baser urges back ruthlessly. "Relax," He murmured against her mouth, parting her shirt slowly.

She raked her nails down his back lightly and he felt his breath catch in his throat—when he dully realized they were both still bleeding and in the middle of the street, surrounded by beaten thugs who could wake at any moment. He could take her here, wanted to, badly—but he knew better.

He tore his mouth away reluctantly, his harsh breaths mingling with hers. "Not here." He bit out, clenching his jaw, his fingers curling in her shirt tightly, keeping her tempting flesh out of his sight. "Not like this." He pressed his lips to her throat, tried to cool his blood.

Couldn't.

He kissed her again, hard, briefly.

She broke away. "Like this?"

He smiled at her darkly, brushing her hair away from her face, his fingers slipping into her silky black hair. "I told you, didn't I?" He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. "I want to learn you." Her lips parted and he pressed in a little deeper. "Slowly." He brushed his fingertips over the seam of her lips. "Thoroughly." He looked about them pointedly, grudgingly. "And privately." He peeled himself off of her. The things he wanted to do to her needed to wait until they were behind locked doors. And perhaps after they'd bathed.

She gathered her wits a little more slowly, sitting up and grimacing, her hand touching her cut stomach tentatively.

She rose to her feet and helped him up onto his, her gaze latching everywhere but onto him, her bush fierce. She buttoned her shirt up—or whatever buttons she had left, the blouse exposing most of her chest and stomach. "The horses…I left them just around here." Awkwardly, she pulled his arm back around her neck.

He smirked a little—then paused when he heard a quiet groan emit from the beast of a man Mikasa had fought with only moments ago. He was alive afterall.

They both glanced about them as they saw a few of the men begin to shift wearily.

Shit.

"I'll knock them all—" Mikasa moved forward purposefully but Levi snatched her wrist, yanking her back.

"I appreciate and admire your bloodlust, Ackerman but no. We're leaving. There is someone I think we may be able to stay with for tonight."

He pulled them forward as quickly as he could. He was sure Sophia would sell her soul if it was for the right price—a room shouldn't be asking much.

"Move, Ackerman."

She clenched her jaw and obeyed stiffly, helping him along the street and scurrying around the corner. There were several gasps and yelps from the townspeople, gawking at his state of undress, most leaping away and making way for them. He sent a pointed glare at anyone who kept looking at Mikasa's mostly open shirt, almost felt like giving her back her jacket to cover her up.

They reached Sophia's door and he paused. "We're going to stay here for the night."

Mikasa looked hesitant. "You can stay here while I go to the military police to report—"

He cupped her jaw, silencing her. "No. By this time they're all probably shot in the neck drunk, anyway. We'll stay here. Understand?"

She jerked away from his hand. "Yes, Heichou." She was all ire now and he couldn't help but sigh.

Just moments ago she'd been all liquid heat beneath him. He moved to push the door open when she snatched his wrist.

"Heichou…" She seemed to struggle with herself. "We can't both stay here tonight."

He arched a brow. "Why is that?"

"What just happened now…"

Levi pondered for several moments. He sometimes seemed to forget how much more innocent and naïve Mikasa was, how something like this might confuse her. She'd never had a romantic relationship, had she? She was a reserved woman and emotions like desire might unnerve her. She was accustomed to pushing her body ruthlessly, brutally, putting it through pain—but had she ever sought pleasure?

"Mikasa," He murmured, gently, catching her gaze. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did. It could mean something more if you wish or it could mean nothing at all if you'd like. I want you and I've wanted you for quite some time now. Whether you want to take it further is entirely up to you." He traced his fingertips down her exposed throat. "I can make you feel good." He felt her soften beneath his touch. "I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to feel me." Her lips were already parting for him but he bit back, clenching his jaw. "Whether you can ignore everything and everyone, whatever everyone else might think, is up to you and you alone. As long as you're sure you won't regret your choice."

He pulled away.

"But for tonight we're staying here."

He shoved the door open without knocking and pulled Mikasa in behind him. It'd been a while since he'd had a woman in his bed—at least not without the full intention of having her.

They stumbled in and Sophia looked unperturbed as ever, sewing a white shirt as she sat perched on her stool. She glanced at them briefly.

"I gave the horse's food and water." She mumbled. "That'll cost you." She kept sewing as she spoke. "I bought back your uniform, Levi, from those thugs that I presume did…" She waved at their bloody bodies. "That to you. They were filthy and torn in some places so I washed them and I'm sewing them as I speak. The jacket and pants are still damp so you'll have to wait until morning."

Levi narrowed his eyes, saw that she was sewing buttons into his white shirt.

"That will also cost you." She finished sewing up the last button and tied the string, cutting it neatly. "I've put bandages and a few ointments in the bathroom because I am assuming you both will be taking baths—and that will also be added to your bill."

Levi pulled his coin pouch out of Mikasa's pocket and handed her a handful of coins with a grimace. "I'm not quite sure you didn't plan all of this, hag."

Sophia only giggled happily as she smoothed her old fingers over the shiny metal pieces. "I've prepared a room for you—I've only one to spare and I'm going to assume you two won't mind sleeping in the same bed together, unless of course one of you wishes to sleep with me, eh, Levi?—so you two are welcome to stay the night here." Her small grin was conniving. "And that will cost you quite a bit more."

Levi gave up, tossing the entire bag onto the table. "Is that enough?" He pulled away from Mikasa to hobble down the small hall. He pulled off her jacket and tossed it at Sophia. "Wash that while you're at it and I expect a damn good meal in the morning."

It was minutes later that Levi sunk into the steaming water with a muffled groan, leaning his head back against the copper rim of the tub. It stung like hell, his entire body screaming in protest—but it was also a relief. He refused to get into bed bloody and grimy, especially if Mikasa was going to be beside him.

He felt terribly exhausted and weak.

He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He just needed to gather his strength for a few moments.

He never noticed when he fell asleep.