#but he recognizes that pain and for a brief moment remembers who the enemy is and what hes fighting for

[alyimoss]

YES YES YES IVE NOTICED THIS BEFORE!!!! the reverse is also true: chara calls asgore dad, but toriel is just toriel. both have a parent theyre closest with

that does make me think tho like. frisk seems to me like he would either call both parents just by their name or call both mom and dad. not pick one and leave the other. hes shown to be more considerate of the residents of xtale in later timelines than chara, whos grown much more disillusioned, hateful, and violent. chara has way fewer problems treating people more poorly because in his mind the end justifies the means and as long as the goal hes working toward is noble (which. it at first is but later twists into something completely different. but i think he still considers it noble and the "best outcome for everyone" and thats ahat matters most to him) any horrible thing he does is completely fine. hes playing on the same battlefield as xgaster, after all, so he has to adopt his same tactics. frisk, though also shown to have grown more hateful and violent and disillusioned, shows a lot more hesitation in using and/or hurting the residents of xtale.

anyway, all that to say that he just doesnt rlly strike me as the type of guy to just exclude one parent, especially if it hurts/saddens them. like i could be completely wrong and hes just got a preference contrasting charas bc siblings, but. idk.

bc chara not calling toriel mom immediately makes me think of timeline III. the timeline right after the one where chara got the father figure he yearned for. it was the first timeline to use underswap as a base instead of the original timeline. in the episode, we see both frisk and chara sitting in toriels lap. frisk is chatting happily with her, but chara looks livid

i wonder if chara refuses to call toriel mom because she hasnt been the mother he knew for so, so long. she doesn't even know it. and swap toriel taking asgores role and some if not all of his personality (depending on the interpretation), it probably felt to chara like she was trying to replace asgore. a shoddy stand in, smiling at him almost in mockery as he has to mourn the death of his father alone because noone except for him, frisk, xgaster, and alphys even know he died. for all the other residents of xtale, that series of events never happened.

toriel asks him whats wrong and he has to fight the urge to snap at her, to yell at her that she knows. she knows and shes mocking him. that shell never be him. that she shouldnt have ever dared to do something like this so close to his death. and he only barely holds that all in because he knows shes not doing this on purpose. she doesnt know what happened. she didnt ask to be remade in someone else's image. she doesn't even know she has been

the whole situation fuels his hatred of xgaster more, because now more than ever he feels like hes being toyed with. first it was just the world. just seeing what changed. and then one of the most precious things to him was taken from him by the very man who promised him the world, a marionette facsimile dangling by strings from the claws chara couldve sworn he didnt always have.

and again, its not toriels fault. but it leaves such a strong impression on him that she forever changes in his eyes. shes no longer the loving mother. shes someone who doesnt belong, someone he doesnt recognize as his own. she changed from who she was when she WAS his mom, all the way back in timelines I and II, and the mother he loved is dead. gone. erased. irreplaceable. and no matter what xtoriel does, chara can never bring himself to call her mom again

and, on the contrary, he latches to asgore hard. because hes also changed, hes not exactly as he remembers him, but hes back. hes alive. hes still asgore and hes still his father and he missed him so much. he doesnt care about the smaller details, nothing matters except the fact that his father is back. that the man who gave him hope and support and company when he felt so crushingly lonely under the weight of losing his world is back, and that means chara isnt alone anymore. hes not hopeless. and he holds to that tiny hope as tight as he can

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[the-sunflower-room]

✧ to die by your side ✧

dazai x fem!reader

☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort

☆ wc: 9.5k

☆ summary: dazai’s girlfriend is kidnapped by a revenge-seeking enemy and must count down the agonizing minutes to her death. dazai and the rest of the ada race to save her before time runs out.

☆ warnings: kidnapping, violence, language, mentions of blood/torture/drugging, dazai-typical suicide mentions, brief mentions of throwing up, self-loathing dazai, panic attacks, etc- overall just pretty angsty! slightly canon divergent with the way i wrote dazai’s ability. i also threw in some comfort at the end as a little treat <3

………………………………………………………………………………….

Pain. Blinding pain.

That was the first thing Y/N noticed as she slowly regained consciousness. Her skull felt like it was on fire, her temple throbbing and wrists aching. A heavy weight sat on her chest and made the simple act of breathing difficult. A faint but persistent beeping noise seemed amplified in her ringing ears, worsening her pounding headache while the heavy scent of blood in the air made her stomach churn.

What was going on?

Confusion persisted until her mind began to register the other noises in her surroundings.

A man’s voice she didn’t recognize.

The soft beep of a video camera starting to record.

Something about the agency.

Dazai’s name.

Her body broke into a cold sweat at the sudden mention of her boyfriend.

Realizing her eyelids were too heavy to even open, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened. The last thing she remembered was kissing Dazai goodnight outside of her apartment, then quietly getting ready for bed once he had left. What could have possibly happened between then and now? Whose voice was echoing around her? Why did her body feel so heavy, and why were her thoughts so incoherent? If she could just get up-

Oh.

Oh.

Her wrists were bound behind her, the rest of her body anchored to the chair she was sat in by chains of steel. There was something large strapped to her abdomen emitting a beeping noise every few seconds.

Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest as she slowly put together what was happening in her hazy mind.

“-Pay for your crimes by letting her die. This pretty little thing only has three hours left,” the gruff voice continued, sounding much clearer and much closer than before. Her panic increased tenfold as she realized the mystery man was directly behind her. Before she could fully prepare for it, a large hand suddenly grabbed a fistful of hair on her scalp and yanked her slumped head upwards. The pain forced her eyes open and she was greeted with a camera pointed at her, along with a room full of armed men. Her eyes slowly widened in terror and clarity as it all finally clicked in that moment, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit what was happening to her.

I’ve been kidnapped as a means to get back at the agency.

There’s a bomb strapped to me.

I have three hours to live.

The tears started then. Even though she could vaguely recognize that she was being recorded for the Agency’s viewing and it would only worry Dazai more if he saw her in so much distress, she couldn’t help her panic. No matter how strong she wanted to be for him, this was terrifying. Her life was suddenly on the line and she would die at the hands of these men if the agency couldn’t find her in time.

“Please,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling pathetic as she let out a choked sob. Her voice cracked from disuse and she felt like she might hyperventilate. “Please, no. I don’t want to die.” The room filled with cruel laughter at her naive pleas, and she could only sink further into despair as the gravity of her situation became painfully evident. These were ruthless killers who were happy to see an innocent woman die for nothing more than the sake of revenge.

“Hear that, detectives? She’s begging for her life. What are you gonna do about it? The clock is ticking,” The man behind her sneered, grabbing her face in his calloused hand and squeezing it. She weakly attempted to yank her head away from his grasp and maintain her last shred of dignity. He was taunting them with her, the bastard.

Weaponizing their good nature and care for her. Trying to break them; trying to break her sweet Dazai.

Oh god- Dazai.

The more she thought about him, the more her tears flowed. Dazai, whose greatest fear was putting her in danger with his line of work. Dazai, who had lost so much more than a person should. Dazai, who loved and cared for her more than anyone she had ever known. The mere idea of him sitting at the agency headquarters, watching in horror while these unknown men teased him with her life, was too much to bear.

Through her cries of terror, Y/N could just barely overhear the man saying something else into the camera before ordering one of his subordinates to cut the footage. Dread filled the pit of her stomach as they turned their full attention on her and she realized she was truly alone with these psychopaths.

She had no way of knowing if the ADA was coming for her, or if they would be able to get to her in time. Hell, she didn’t even know if they would be able to diffuse the complicated bomb even if they did manage to reach her before it was set to detonate. She certainly didn’t want them to risk their own lives just to save her, even if the thought of dying in an explosion shook her to her core.

She felt her hope drain away with each new tick of the bomb, her body shaking with fear. Three hours was an awfully short time.

Please, Osamu.

My time is running out.

~

Dazai had never felt a rage quite like this before.

He knew that something was wrong the moment the agency had received a video from an untraceable source and Y/N hadn’t texted him about her day. That didn’t stop his heart from dropping clear to his stomach when he saw her on the monitor, chained up and bloody with a bomb on her chest.

No. Not her.

He avoided the nervous gazes of Atsushi and the rest of the agency members as he stared at her unconscious body on the screen, jaw clenched unimaginably tight and hands gripping the wood of the conference room table. The man standing in front of her was droning on about how Dazai had personally wronged his pathetic organization —something about putting a stop to their human trafficking network with the help of Kunikida— but he couldn’t bring himself to listen or even care.

He was attempting to keep his composure by focusing on the facts of the case. Namely, the extent of her injuries and her location.

Blood was dripping down the side of her face from her temple, some of it dried and caked in her hair. The bastards had likely hit her with some sort of blunt object to knock her out. His fury only grew at the thought of her being treated with such senseless violence. She still seemed dazed and confused as the man forced her awake to face the camera, a sure sign of a concussion or even drugging to further subdue her. She had a few more bruises and bloody cuts on her face, and he knew by the way the metal chains cut into her skin that they would cause serious irritation at the very least.

He couldn’t help but screw his eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath as her weak and desperate pleas reached his ears. The complete and utter terror in her voice as she begged her captors for mercy was nothing short of gut-wrenching to him. Even worse, the man was taunting Dazai with her pain. Smugly showing off her broken body like some sort of prize. She’s suffering because of you, a small voice in his head spat, making Dazai grit his teeth even more. No. Focus, you idiot. Focus on where they’re keeping her.

She looked to be trapped in some kind of metal room, potentially reinforced with anti-ability precautions to keep them from easily reaching her. The cell was dingy, dark, and silent, leading him to wonder if she was being kept somewhere underground. That would be a likely spot for these despicable cockroaches to hide. There were just over a dozen guards surrounding her, although they wouldn’t be an issue in the grand scheme of things; the ADA could certainly handle a few thugs with guns. What concerned him most was the bomb strapped to her chest.

There were plenty of geniuses among their ragtag team, but bombs were tricky. There could be dozens of triggers on it, or someone could detonate it remotely if anyone got too close to her. A single misstep or miscalculation could immediately cost Y/N’s life, and that was a risk Dazai certainly wasn’t willing to take.

He was furious at himself for letting this happen. He was so careful- always keeping tabs on her, steering her away from involvement in ADA antics, keeping an ear to the ground for trouble in the Yokohama underworld. He was constantly calculating and preparing for every outcome, always several steps ahead of his enemies with his dizzying plans. And yet, somehow, this measly organization he could hardly remember had managed to snatch his girlfriend out from under him with almost no trouble at all.

She was in mortal danger, and it was all his fault.

“Snap out of it, Dazai, I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here,” Kunikida piped up from across the room, his voice sympathetic but stern as he glared at his partner. “You need to keep your head on straight if we want to get her back.” He could tell just by reading Dazai’s expression how much inner turmoil the man was going through. How much he blamed himself for Y/N’s capture. But if they were going to rescue her before the three hours were up, there was no time for wallowing in self pity.

“Kunikida’s right,” Fukuzawa’s booming voice spoke, causing Dazai’s distant gaze to snap over to his boss in an instant. The fact that he was involved in the case at all revealed just how seriously the entire agency was taking her kidnapping. “Time is not on our side. We must be swift and rational if we are to have any hope of getting to Y/N and disabling the bomb in time.” Their words struck Dazai to his core. It was hard to remember that the other ADA members also cared deeply for his girlfriend, and they were willing to go so far as to put their lives at risk to help him get her back. Their unwavering support seemed to snap him out of his stupor and focus on the task at hand.

Get her back from those sorry motherfuckers.

“Right,” he nodded curtly, his expression suddenly devoid of all emotion as he turned to face the team with renewed focus and determination. “Ranpo-san, what’s the plan?”

The raven-haired detective, who had been quietly perched on the window sill and shadowed by the deep orange sunlight filtering into the room, suddenly jumped down from his seat and whipped out his pair of glasses in a flash. His trademark smirk spread across his face as he placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, poised to activate his ability.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~

Fifteen minutes.

That’s what the little timer read—from what she could tell, anyway. Y/N’s heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. She was drenched in sweat from the overwhelming fear taking over her body, despite her cell being practically freezing. The men had left her alone a while ago, but not before roughing her up for good measure. She now sported a throbbing bruise under her eye and a few new cuts on her face and neck, but she had blocked all of the pain out. All she could feel was pure panic as the countdown to her impending doom grew shorter and shorter.

She had no idea if Dazai and the rest of the ADA were even close to figuring out where she was, and her hope was beginning to run out. How could they possibly find her and disarm the bomb in a mere fifteen minutes? It didn’t seem at all possible, no matter how skilled they were. A single tear ran down her cheek as the reality set in. She was really going to die.

Trying to find some form of comfort as the seconds ticked away and she neared what she assumed were her last moments, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind to go somewhere else—anywhere else—to escape this hell.

Dazai’s soft laughter filled her ears.

It was a lazy Sunday morning- the couple’s favorite time to lay in bed for the whole day and forget their actual adult responsibilities. They were tangled up in fresh sheets, warm sunlight streaming through the windows as Dazai playfully teased her about her refusal to let him get up.

“Five more minutes!” Y/N grumbled sleepily, burying her head into the crook of Dazai’s neck and breathing in his fresh scent. He still smelled like the floral body wash he had used in the shower the night before; the same body wash she had bought him when he insisted he loved the way it smelled on her and needed some for himself. Catching traces of its scent on him always brought a smile to her face.

“You said that five minutes ago,” he chuckled, his voice still husky from sleep. His hand absentmindedly massaged her scalp as he held her tight to his chest. “You can hear my stomach practically begging for food. Are you trying to starve me, my love?” Y/N was seemingly unaffected by his dramatic ploy to escape her embrace. “Yes,” she answered simply, burrowing further into his t-shirt to hide her smile that would give away her crumbling resolve. Of course, there was no hiding anything from Dazai Osamu.

“I saw that!” He gasped, playfully poking at her face. “My Y/N does care about me, who would have thought!” She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her lips at her boyfriend’s theatrics. He was always blowing things out of proportion, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t love it.

Daring to peek up at him with heavy eyelids, her eyes met gentle brown staring back at her with nothing but warmth and fondness. The lovesick smile plastered across his face sent butterflies rushing through her stomach and she suddenly felt shy. His eyes were so pretty. “If you get up, I’ll be so lonely without you,” she pouted, hands snaking around his waist as she gave him her best puppy dog eyes. She knew she was playing dirty by pulling the pity card, but she also couldn’t stand the thought of being away from his comforting embrace for even a moment.

Dazai heaved a sigh, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his hand moved to her face and gently brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. “Well how could I ever say no to that? I would rather starve than see my belladonna lonely and upset.” She rolled her eyes a let out an amused huff at his words, craning her neck so she was mere inches away from his face. “So you’ll stay?” She whispered, knowing that she’d already won the minute he hadn’t actually gotten up when he announced he needed breakfast.

Instead of responding right away, Dazai leaned down and planted a gentle kiss to her pouting mouth. She was just so irresistible. “Of course, darling,” he murmured against her lips, pulling her head back into his chest and smiling as he felt her snuggle closer. She truly was his everything. “Five more minutes with you is nothing short of pure bliss.”

Five minutes left.

Y/N thought she might pass out from the sheer terror that consumed her, threatening to pull her under completely. She would never see her friends again, including all of the agency members she had grown to call her family. She would die before saying goodbye to her loved ones- to Dazai. How would he react when he found her body, or what was left of it? How would he cope? The very thought forced a watery sob from her throat.

This is the end.

I’m going to die without seeing him one last time.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded outside of the door to her prison and startled her out of her despair. It sounded like someone throwing their body against the heavy steel door. She froze, swallowing back her tears and preparing herself for the worst. Maybe the men were back to torture her one last time before setting off the bomb. As her mind came up with the worst possible scenarios, a familiar grunt reached her ears through the metal walls. It couldn’t be. After a beat, she heard the noise again. Then- “Y/N?”

She nearly stopped breathing at the sound of his angelic lilt. “…Samu?” She called out weakly, afraid to let herself be filled with hope in case it was some kind of cruel trick. “Y/N!” He yelled back, a mixture of desperation and relief in his voice as the banging noises continued. It was incredible how quickly hearing his voice had managed to relax her, even if she knew she was still in immediate danger. He always did have a calming effect on her. “Osamu, I don’t have much time left,” she gasped, desperately struggling against her restraints. Now that she knew he was here, she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna get you out of here, baby,” he assured her through the cold metal door, giving the handle another frustrated jolt. Why couldn’t he have been blessed with a strength-related ability? “Those assholes had some ability users up their sleeve, so the others are busy trying to break through their defenses,” he explained in a rush, throwing his body into the door again despite the blooming pain in his shoulder. He wouldn’t have the help of Atsushi or Kenji like they had originally planned, and that worried him. “I promise, I won’t stop until I get into that room and you’re safe.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice suddenly boomed over a hidden speaker, catching the attention of both Dazai and Y/N as their heads snapped upwards in near unison. Her blood ran cold as she recognized it as the voice of her captor. “Break into that room, and we’ll set off the bomb early. Didn’t you listen to us? This is your penance, Dazai,” he spoke, clear amusement in his tone. The bastard was watching them from somewhere else in the underground facility, enjoying their pain. Using it as entertainment.

Three minutes left.

Dazai grimaced outside of the door, hands balling into fists as a new fear and rage ignited inside of him. There was never going to be a way to reach her without the bomb going off. It was a cruel way to torture him; forcing him to either live with the guilt of leaving her and save his own life, or stay with her until the bitter end. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make.

As Y/N pieced together the new information, she quickly came to the same conclusion as her boyfriend and felt her eyes go wide. “Dazai, NO! Get away from here, now!” She screamed, fresh tears already burning in her eyes. She knew that he was selfless and loved her more than anything, but in that moment she wanted him to turn his back on her. To break her heart and leave her behind to save himself.

Ramming his now probably broken shoulder into the cold, unforgiving metal one last time, Dazai shook his head as he slowly sank to the floor. His hands were raw and bleeding from practically clawing at the wall for a weak point, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered anymore but staying with her. “I won’t leave you,” he said simply, leaning his head against the wall. The agony of knowing that she was in that room, alone and afraid, minutes away from her death, was crushing. But if he could offer her even the smallest comfort before that timer hit zero, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Y/N was on the verge of a panic attack. Tears streamed down her face and she struggled to breathe, completely overwhelmed by what was happening. To have to accept that she really was about to die a horrible and graphic death in a few minutes was terrifying, but to know that Dazai was right outside the door and would also die if he stayed; that was too much. She knew how stubborn he was, but she had to try to make him leave anyway. Anything to get him to save himself.

“Please,” she cried desperately, consumed with grief as sobs wracked through her body. “You can’t stay, Dazai, you have to GO!” Hearing her in so much pain was like a thousand knives to the heart, but despite everything, Dazai couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto his face. She really didn’t get it. “Go where, huh? There’s nowhere in this world I would go without you,” he spoke softly, shutting his eyes and letting out a small sigh. He seemed strangely content.

She continued to sob, choking on her breaths as the timer reached one minute. He was so stupid and selfless and wonderful- she couldn’t let him die. “Please…you can’t do this to me, you have to leave…you can’t stay,” she whimpered almost incoherently, barely able to yell anymore. Her strength was running out, her body exhausted from all of the mental turmoil. Still, she continued to strain against the chains wrapped tightly around her as if she could break them by sheer will. “Don’t be scared, Y/N,” he called to her, the smile still on his face. “I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving you. It’s gonna be okay.” Through the walls he could hear her voice break as she wailed in agony at his words, the sound blood-curdling.

Thirty seconds.

Dazai thought it ironic that this was the way he was going out; a tragic double suicide with his lover. It was almost funny. Almost. “I love you, darling. My sweet belladonna. Not even death can keep us apart,” he reassured her, opening his eyes and staring at the wall as if he could look straight through the metal and meet her gaze. His heart squeezed in his chest as she let out another horrible, strangled sob. “There- isn’t much time- left,” she gasped in between breaths, her whole body trembling. Why couldn’t he leave her? Why couldn’t he save himself? He was too important to the ADA, to the world, to die. The guilt was eating her alive.

Ten seconds.

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, and he was never more sure of his words. She let out one last piercing, guttural scream, pulling at the chains so hard her skin started to bleed. She thought she might faint from the agonizing anticipation as the clock counted down her last moments of life; their last moments. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut in defeat. He shook his head once again. She had nothing to be sorry for. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered one final time, placing his bloody hand against the door. Offering his comfort in their last seconds alive.

Three.

Two.

One.

Silence. A flash of white hot light. A horrible booming noise. Then, nothing.

~

The rest of the ADA halted in their battle at the sound of the explosion, staring at one another in horror. Smoke billowed out from one of the dingy tunnels, the familiar scent of flames filling the air. There was no way they had failed…right? The couldn’t have lost Y/N and Dazai; not when they had worked so hard to get out of the situation with everyone unharmed.

The sound of cackling laughter echoed through the underground base mere moments after the explosion, drawing their attention to a man emerging from the shadows. They immediately recognized him as the man from the video- the organization’s leader who had personally tormented Y/N.

“The great Dazai Osamu is dead,” he shrieked, his crazed laughter forcing him to double over. The rest of the organization’s thugs began to jeer and laugh along with him, celebrating their victory over the ADA’s elusive genius. Atsushi felt tears welling in his eyes, not just for the tragic and sudden loss of his brilliant mentor whom he deeply cared for, but for Y/N as well. Those pieces of shit didn’t even care that they had killed her too; to them she was just a means to an end. The sweet woman who had shown him nothing but kindness when he joined the ADA and brought so much joy into their lives…dead.

To his left, Kunikida was also fighting back angry tears, refusing to accept that his frustrating but brilliant partner had truly been killed by these incompetent fools. Kyoka and Kenji’s eyes were blown wide in shock while Tanizaki panted heavily, his mouth gaping. It seemed that none of them could actually comprehend that the pair were truly dead and gone.

“You detectives are nothing but a bunch of sentimental fools!” The man cackled, face red and eyes bulging. He looked insane. “I can’t believe your genius was lured and killed by such an easy trap. All it took was kidnapping that little bitch and blowing her up!” All of the ADA members tensed, looking visibly appalled by his cruel, demeaning words. Not only was this man completely unhinged, but he was outright mocking an innocent woman’s death.

It was sickening.

Just as the sinking feeling of dread began to settle in the pit of Atsushi’s stomach, a distant but familiar voice called out from the smoke to interrupt their little celebration. “Ah, you underestimate me…” the voice drawled, jerking everyone’s attention to the smoking tunnel. All of the color drained from the leader’s face as he watched three silhouettes slowly emerge from the haze. “No…that’s impossible!” He screeched, all confidence gone and white as a ghost as he pointed at the trio with a shaking finger. “I watched you die! I-I saw it with my own eyes!”

Dazai, Y/N, and Dr. Yosano appeared at the entrance of the tunnel as the smoke cleared, Y/N leaned against Dazai for support while Yosano brandished her weapon. Y/N looked slightly stunned and shaken up, but the two survivors otherwise seemed completely unharmed, no trace of any injuries on their bodies.

“You did,” Dazai flashed his signature shit-eating grin, eyes flicking over to their team’s resident doctor. “Thankfully we had a backup plan in case you tried anything dirty, like you did.”

Ranpo had luckily had the foresight to bring in Yosano from a different entry point and position her near the cell that Y/N was being held in once they figured out her location, in the event that things went wrong and the bomb went off. That way she was there to immediately patch them up with her ability once it detonated, making it so that the harm was only temporary. There had never been any real threat of death; as long as Yosano worked fast enough, that is.

“You were a fool to play with this woman’s life to get back at an enemy,” Yosano spat, pointing her cleaver at the now trembling man before her. “Those who do not properly respect life will receive the ultimate punishment!” The rest of the thugs glanced around uneasily, sensing a shift in the power dynamic of the fight. Suddenly their main target was alive and well, and the rest of the agency seemed even more bloodthirsty than before.

“I-Impossible! No!” He cried, slowly backing towards another tunnel. The ADA members adjusted their stances and stared him down with what could only be described as murderous glints in their eyes, making it clear that he wouldn’t be getting away without a gruesome fight. He gulped. “Take this as a lesson!” Dazai announced cheerfully, still smiling but now with a terrifyingly cold and emotionless look in his eyes.

“There are grave consequences for those who hurt the people I love. And you’ve stupidly chosen to hurt the person I love most.”

It was a blur after that, all hell breaking loose. Dazai quickly ordered Tanizaki to cloak Y/N with his ability and get her safely to the surface as fighting broke out all around them. She wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes told her that he just wanted to get her out of harm’s way for the time being and that’d he be back at her side as soon as he was done dealing with the room of pitiful men. She certainly didn’t want to stick around and see what he and the rest of the ADA had in store for them. He pressed one last comforting kiss to her forehead before sending her off to escape with the ginger detective, his fiercely protective gaze never once leaving her as she fled the scene.

Covering the two of them with Light Snow, Tanizaki grabbed Y/N by the wrist and rushed her out of the disgusting underground hideout, pulling her away from the violent fight that had broken out. He knew that it would only be a few minutes until the team was done putting those miserable scumbags in their place.

They eventually reached the entrance of the base after a few tense minutes of running through winding tunnels, finding Ranpo and a trusted driver from the agency waiting in a running car. Tanizaki carefully opened the backseat door for her and made sure she was safely in the car before stepping back, flashing a comforting smile. “I’m so happy to see that you’re safe, Y/N. Ranpo will take care of the rest and make sure you get back to the agency safely,” he quickly explained, nodding at the driver before closing the car door and giving her a small wave.

Although she was still shellshocked, she managed a small wave in return and and even smaller smile. “Thank you,” she mouthed as the car pulled away, grateful for his help in getting her out of that hellhole. She was happy to leave the horrible place behind.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ranpo greeted from the seat next to her, drawing her attention away from the now small spec that was Tanizaki. Seeing her old friend sitting next to her filled her with so much relief she could hardly breathe. She opened her mouth to thank him for everything, knowing that the elaborate rescue plan was his doing, but the words caught in her throat. Everything had happened so fast that she barely had any time to process it. The bomb going off, practically dying, being saved by Yosano, briefly reuniting with Dazai, escaping the underground labyrinth. She was so overwhelmed with emotion as she realized she was actually alive and safe. Dazai was alive and safe.

We survived…

but we almost didn’t.

She promptly bent over and threw up onto the floor of the car.

Ranpo shrank into the corner of his seat, looking wildly uncomfortable but biting back his usual snarky and tone-deaf remarks. She had been through a lot, and her body had to expel all of those suffocating emotions somehow. “I had a feeling you would do that,” he grimaced, but he nonetheless leaned over and gently pat her back in a small act of comfort. Coughing on bile, Y/N felt hot tears burning the back of her eyes at the detective’s kind gesture. Everyone at the agency had shown up to help her in one way or another, and it was staggering to see just how much they cared.

Even in this very vulnerable moment, Ranpo was offering his genuine support, something that was incredibly rare for him. She would have to buy him a big care package of his favorite snacks later to show her gratitude for all he had done for her.

Eventually the car arrived at the agency, the normally bustling streets of Yokohama quiet and deserted in the late hour. Y/N apologized profusely to the driver for the small mess in the car, thoroughly embarrassed even though she hadn’t been able to help it. He simply dismissed it with a wave of his hand and an understanding smile. “No problem whatsoever, miss. You just take it easy.”

With that, Ranpo carefully guided her into the safety of the agency, leading her upstairs with one arm draped over her shoulder. When the pair finally reached the office, Y/N practically collapsed into one of the couches in the lounge area, letting out a sigh and massaging her temples to try and soothe her pounding head. Being dehydrated and malnourished for nearly 24 hours wasn’t exactly helping her stress-induced headache that had quickly developed in the car ride over.

Once again, as if reading her mind, Ranpo disappeared for a moment before returning with a water bottle, a few snacks, medicine, and a blanket in his arms, placing them on the coffee table in front of her. It was like he knew everything she needed- and he probably did. “Rest up and take care of yourself,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’m sure Dazai will be here soon to take you home, but in the meantime try to relax and get some food and water in you. You’ve had a long day.” She smiled gratefully, albeit a little tiredly, at the gesture. Yet another rare display of his care.

“Thank you, for everything,” she whispered, trying to convey just how sincerely she meant those words. She wouldn’t soon forget his help. He flashed her a small, lopsided grin before waving her off dramatically. “It was nothing for the world’s greatest detective!” He declared, pointing a finger into the air before turning on his heels and making his way back to his desk, munching on a snack of his own. Just like that, Y/N was alone.

She quietly opened one of the snacks Ranpo had provided her, washing down some pain-relief pills with the water after she’d eaten a few bites. When her nauseous stomach began to protest the food, she forced herself to stop. Although she was still incredibly hungry, she certainly didn’t want to end up with another mess to clean up. Shuddering at the thought, she wrapped herself up with the plush blanket and tried to calm her racing heart. Her mind was still reeling from everything. The constant thoughts of the traumatic events she had just undergone only made her headache and nausea worse by the minute, and her brain felt like it might explode.

She was exhausted.

If she could just clear her mind and close her eyes for a moment…

~

Without even realizing she had dozed off on the couch, she awoke some time later to the feeling of a slender hand cupping her cheek, stroking her jaw with delicate precision. She didn’t even have to open her eyes to know it was Dazai. “Wake up, my love,” his hushed voice cooed, immediately pulling her from her slumber. Slowly blinking her eyes open, she was met with his comforting smile, but his eyes were unimaginably sad. Her heart ached.

“Ready to go home?”

Nodding sleepily, Y/N slowly picked herself up from the couch, shrugging the blanket off her shoulders and neatly folding it up before placing it back on the coffee table. After gathering her bearings, she realized that some of the other agency members had also returned to the office, likely to fill out paperwork before heading home for the night. She felt a pang of guilt shoot through her as she realized they would have to do extra work because of her. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself kidnapped, they would all be home sleeping right now.

A dreadful thought suddenly crossed her mind. Would she have to fill out paperwork and recount what had happened to her? It seemed likely, as they kept track of nearly every incident like this. The very idea made another wave of nausea roll through her.

As if sensing her worry, Kunikida rounded the corner with a stack of papers in-hand, taking in her dead-tired appearance with a single glance. “Just so you know, we will need a statement on what happened eventually, Y/N, but I don’t want you to even think about it until you’re recovered and ready to talk,” he instructed, concern and sympathy evident in his expression despite his no-nonsense tone. He was truly glad to see her safe and back under the protection of the agency. Y/N nodded, relieved that she wouldn’t have to recount the traumatic events until she was ready. At the moment she couldn’t even imagine a time when she would ever feel ready.

Turning his attention to Dazai, the sympathetic look vanished from Kunikida’s face and morphed into one of general annoyance. “Don’t think that you’re getting out of doing the paperwork just because you almost died,” he barked, jabbing an accusing finger at his partner’s chest. “It’s no excuse to be lazy.”

Dazai placed a hand to his heart and looked aghast, as if the very insinuation of him trying to avoid paperwork was ridiculous. “Me? Getting out of paperwork? Really, Kunikida-kun, what do you take me for?” He gasped, earning a growl and a sharp smack to the head with a roll of papers.

Their antics miraculously drew out a soft chuckle from Y/N’s lips, but it was half-hearted at best. As enjoyable as Dazai and Kunikida’s banter was, her eyes still drooped with fatigue and her anxious mind longed to rest in the comfort of her own home. She just wanted this horrible day to be over with. Gaze dropping to Y/N’s face at the sound of her reserved amusement, Dazai quickly noted the weight of her exhaustion and took it as their cue to leave.

“I think it’s time for us to get home,” he announced, glancing back up at Kunikida and sharing a knowing look with him. The blond held his stare for a moment before sighing, giving a small nod before politely bidding the two a good night and moving on to pester Ranpo about doing his work.

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Dazai carefully led Y/N out of the agency and into the streets of Yokohama below, glancing at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing ok. She was quiet during the walk home, her expression blank and her eyelids heavy. He found himself wishing he could figure out what she was thinking. Normally he could read her like a book, always knowing exactly how she was feeling or what was troubling her. Now she just seemed numb. A dark part of his mind feared that she was distancing herself from him because their relationship had nearly gotten her killed.

Would she even want to be with him anymore? Would she leave him to heal the trauma he had caused her? He shuddered at the thought.

Eventually arriving at their destination, Y/N quickly realized that Dazai had led her back to his apartment instead of her own. That’s right. Mine was broken into, and no one’s been around to clean up the mess that was probably left behind. She was grateful for his thoughtfulness. There was no way she would’ve been able to keep her composure if she had walked into her home and seen the evidence of her capture.

Walking into the entryway after Dazai had unlocked the door, Y/N immediately wanted to cry as the warm, familiar scent of his apartment hit her. It just smelled like him, something she thought she’d lost mere hours ago. The familiarity of the space nearly brought tears to her eyes.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Noticing her distant, watery gaze, Dazai quickly swooped in to distract her, helping her slip out of her shoes and guiding her to the bedroom to change out of her clothes. Although Yosano had done away with all of the physical injuries on her body, she still felt dirty, the scent of mold and metal clinging to her shirt. It drew her back to that room and the horrible, agonizingly slow ticking of the bomb. The memories lingered in the back of her mind as she discarded her old clothes, slipping into a comfortable t-shirt and a soft pair of shorts that she kept in Dazai’s drawer for the nights when she slept over.

“Better?” Dazai questioned softly when she had finished changing, eyes searching hers almost frantically for any sign of discomfort. He wanted to help her in any way possible, but for once in his life, he didn’t know what to do. The day had taken a toll on him as well and he was struggling to maintain his calm facade. Staring deep into his eyes, she gave the slightest of nods and opened her mouth to reassure him, to tell him that she was ok now. She was home, she was safe thanks to him, she was with him- everything had turned out just fine. But for the second time that night, the words refused to come out.

Instead, she just stared in silence before collapsing into a sudden fit of sobs, knees buckling and sending her falling to the hardwood below. Panicked, Dazai scrambled to meet her at the floor, strong arms holding her steady while she attempted to muffle her pained cries with the palm of her hand. Her sudden tears had him terrified that he had done something wrong. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter, angel? Please, let me help-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before she threw herself into his arms, holding him tighter than she had ever held anyone.

Her desperation to feel him and be close to him now was due to the fact that their reunion in the underground base had been so short lived. Y/N was in too much shock, not understanding how she had gone from dying a gruesome death to perfectly fine in only a matter of seconds. She could barely even register Dazai’s arms wrapped around her in a bone crushing hug or the sweet encouragements he was whispering in her ear.

Dazai was used to Yosano’s incredible ability. Having been saved by it countless times, being revived by the dark-haired doctor was practically second nature to him. But Y/N was still reeling from the excruciating pain she had experienced moments ago that had just vanished. It was like it had tattooed itself under her skin, a painful memory of her near-death.

The shock of being revived clouded her mind as Dazai had clutched her body close, kissing her forehead and squeezing her tight. She couldn’t even enjoy the pure relief that normally would have filled her when she pieced together that she was alive and safe in her loving boyfriend’s arms. Before she could comprehend what was going on, he had already helped her off the ground and had begun to walk her down the hallway with Yosano, headed towards the main fight.

Now, on the floor of Dazai’s dark bedroom, her mind had finally registered exactly what had transpired mere hours ago. He sacrificed himself just so I wouldn’t be alone in my last moments. He stayed with me until the very end, and he was the first thing I saw after I was healed by Yosano. He means more to me than anyone ever has- and I almost got him killed.

Shushing her cries of despair, Dazai cradled her head to his chest, feeling tears building in his own eyes. He just wanted to take all of her pain away. “Shhh…it’s alright, darling, you’re safe,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her grip around him tighten even more. She was gasping for breath, practically hyperventilating. It seemed her distress was never ending. “Please, my love…please tell me what’s wrong…I want to help you,” he muttered, stroking her hair and pressing gentle kisses into the crown of her head. Her muffled cries only grew louder and he only felt more helpless.

Eventually, after a few minutes of his hushed reassurances and tight, comforting hold, she managed to catch her breath enough to speak. When she pulled away from his chest and finally looked up at him, her eyes held a sorrow so deep that it broke Dazai’s heart all over again. “I- I’m so sorry,” she rasped, sounding completely broken. “You almost died because of me. I hurt you.” Another watery sob escaped her throat before she hung her head and pressed a hand to her lips yet again to stifle her pained cries.

Her words left him in utter shock. He couldn’t imagine how she could possibly think any of this was on her. Not when the truth was the complete opposite. It was time for him to be honest about his feelings, no matter how terrifying it was. “Hey…will you look at me?” He questioned gently, tilting her chin upwards with his finger to guide her gaze back to his. The smallest of smiles graced his lips when she finally complied, glassy eyes locking on his own. “There you are. It hurts that you blame yourself at all, darling. Especially when it’s me you have to blame for all of this.” When her distraught expression morphed into one of confusion, his hands made their way to her own, squeezing them tight. She absentmindedly stroked her thumb along his wrist in a comforting gesture, urging him to explain.

“…I knew Yosano would be there the whole time we were trying to rescue you. I knew she was waiting for us in case things went wrong, and that she would heal us if the bomb went off,” he began, staring intently into her eyes as he spoke. “But listening to you in there, scared and alone, waiting for it to detonate, was horrible. It was the worst possible scenario that we tried so hard to avoid. And knowing that you would have to endure the god awful pain of the explosion even for a moment, and I could do nothing about it, made me sick. It was just another cruel reminder that I always end up hurting the people I care for.”

His sincere confession had stunned Y/N. Though she and her boyfriend were incredibly close, Dazai was a fairly private person who didn’t often air his deep insecurities. The fact that he was being so vulnerable in this moment told her just how genuine his words were, and it hurt like hell to hear. Before she could say anything to rebut his confession, he continued. “I just feel like…a curse to the people I love most. They’ll always be hurt or worse because of me. And it’s so hard to live with myself because of that.”

Eyes widening, Y/N shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t even imagine where his horrible self-deprecating talk was coming from. “How could you even say that? You saved me. I’m only here and alive because of you and the agency.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle at her words, his gaze distant. “I failed you, my love. You were almost killed because of me.” He practically spat the word out, like he was disgusted with himself. His grip on her hands tightened.

“The whole reason those men took you in the first place was to get revenge on me. To force me to choose to live with the guilt of letting you die, or die alongside you. The fact that you had to be wrapped up in all that, traumatized and hurt and almost killed because of my enemies, my line of work…” he trailed off, his voice nearly breaking as his eyes begged her to understand. “No matter how careful I was and how much I tried to protect you, it meant nothing in the end.”

The guilt inside of him was all-consuming. Yes, they had saved her. Yes, they had made sure that the organization would never lay a finger on her or anyone else ever again. But what if something had gone wrong? What if they had been outsmarted, and Yosano hadn’t been waiting in the wings to heal them after the bomb went off? Y/N had been tortured, terrified, in pain because of him. To know that it was his fault that she had been scarred so deeply was his own personal hell.

In a way, the assholes who kidnapped her had won. It was Dazai’s penance, as their leader had called it- still living with the crushing guilt even after he had saved her. Hating himself over and over again for putting her in that position in the first place. Remembering her in the video, bruised and bloody and scared for her life. Constantly reliving her desperate cries for him to leave her in those final moments while he was utterly helpless to save her.

It was torture.

He just felt so stupid for being outsmarted by the lowly organization and allowing his precious lover to get hurt in the process.

“Dazai,” Y/N spoke sharply, effectively snapping him out of his spiral. She rarely called him Dazai unless she was being serious, and she couldn’t stand hearing him blame himself for one more second. “I won’t lie to you and say that today wasn’t one of the worst days of my life. The fear I felt, knowing I’d been taken from my home, having to count down the minutes to my death…” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head as if willing away the unpleasant memories. He patiently waited for her to come back to herself, giving her hands a comforting squeeze.

“…It’ll take me a long time to get over that,” she finally admitted after a moment. “But the worst part of it wasn’t being kidnapped, or hurt by those men, or waiting for the inevitable explosion. It was thinking that I was going to lose you too. All I could focus on in those last minutes was you behind that door, too stubborn to leave me. All I could think about was how much I loved you, and how much I wanted you to be selfish for once and save yourself.”

She watched as he blinked back tears, a mystified expression in his face. As if the very thought of someone worrying about him and his life was completely foreign. Wanting to make herself absolutely clear, she kept going, no matter how much it hurt to see him struggling to understand her love for him. “I could never blame you for what happened. Those men did this to us- they caused all this pain and hurt. Not you.”

Her words left him dumbfounded, to say the least. They managed to remind him of why he loved her as fiercely as he did- she was the good in his life. Even after such a traumatic experience, she was incapable of blaming him for what had happened. Her love and compassion for him despite the darkness he brought into their lives was eye opening, forcing him to realize that no matter how much he thought it untrue, he was capable of being loved.

And how lucky he was to be loved by her.

Unable to articulate his complicated feelings any other way, Dazai cupped her face and surged forward, pressing his lips into her own and kissing her with such genuine fervor that it left Y/N breathless. Although she was momentarily shocked by his sudden show of affection, it quickly wore off as she melted into him. This was the first time they had truly kissed since reuniting, and they were each aching to communicate just how much they loved one another. How close they were to losing their other half; the person that completely them.

Her hands raked through his brown curls almost erratically, desperate to compensate for those long, torturous hours spent away from him. He seemed equally if not more hungry for her touch, like he was trying to prove to himself that she was really there with him after their near death experience. His slender fingers glided across her body and gripped her closer to him, nearly feral in his pursuit to feel every inch of her. She tugged at the hair near the base of his head and elicited a low, rumbling moan in return.

“My beautiful girl,” he rasped as he briefly pulled away, eyes roaming over her body with a look of complete infatuation. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen—and he’d almost lost her. His arm snaked around her waist to tug her impossibly closer, practically pulling her into his lap. She didn’t mind.

He continued to plant kisses all over her face, her hair, her jaw- anywhere he could reach. His lips ghosted over every inch of skin that had previously been covered in blood or bruises, almost as though he had memorized the exact locations of all her injuries just from watching the video hours ago. Knowing Dazai, he probably had committed all of her injuries to memory.

In between kisses, he muttered gentle praises and affections into her ear, all of which made her face flush a deep red. She would never tire of the way his whispered adorations made her heart race and the feeling of his soft lips against her skin. “My darling. My sweet belladonna. You’re everything to me. Everything,” he breathed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Words cannot even describe how much you mean to me. I’m nothing without you.”

Y/N rolled her head back as his lips trailed up her neck and neared her jawline, sucking in a sharp breath when his hands moved into her hair and his grip tightened. His kisses were becoming more passionate, more anxious to prove to her how grateful he was that she was finally back in his arms. That he would never let anyone lay a hand on her again. She allowed his love the wash over her, happily reciprocating when his lips finally captured her own once again.

He tasted like salty tears and home.

Eventually breaking away from one another to catch their breath, Y/N rested her forehead against Dazai’s and let out a shaky sigh, finally letting herself feel safe after what had felt like an eternity of fear and unease. Just being in his presence was enough to help alleviate some of crushing panic she had felt just hours ago.

“Thank you for being with me. For always protecting me, even when you think you’re not. And for never leaving me behind,” she whispered, glancing up into his big brown eyes that were mere inches away from her own. Although the thought of him almost dying with her in the explosion filled her entire being with dread, his determination to stay with her and offer her comfort until the very end meant more to her than she could explain.

“I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life protecting you and making sure something like this never happens again,” he assured her with nothing but sincerity in his soothing voice, taking her hands and gently brushing his lips over her knuckles. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gesture. “You are the most wonderful thing in my life. My reason for living at all. It’s hard to wrap my head around what I’ve possibly done to deserve you, but I promise I’ll do everything within my power to cherish you and keep you safe as long as I live.”

Y/N felt herself genuinely smiling for the first time in hours at her lover’s words. She was filled with such utter relief to be back in the safety of his arms. To be home, alive, and in love despite it all. Her heart felt like it would burst from all the love it held for Dazai Osamu.

“I love you,” she breathed, eyes meeting gentle brown once again. She was desperate for him to understand just how much she meant those words. To convey how safe he made her feel, and how much his presence comforted her. That no matter the danger she was in, she knew he would always be there for her.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied effortlessly, a part of him melting at the sight of her smile. He would burn the world just to keep that beautiful expression on her face. He made a silent vow to himself in that moment— no matter what it took, he would never lose her again.

The two eventually ended up in Dazai’s bed, practically clinging to one another as they shifted into a comfortable position. There would be no such thing as personal space that night. Y/N, who had been worried that the horrors she had faced would keep her exhausted body awake through the night, was pleasantly surprised to find that she was calm and content in Dazai’s embrace, already dozing off. He chuckled softly as her whole body relaxed against him.

“Sleep tight, my love. I’ve got you,” he mumbled into her hair, his warm breath fanning across her neck. She shivered and nuzzled herself further into his embrace, a soft smile on her face. No harm would come to her so long as she was in his arms.

Though they were both still riddled with guilt and turbulent emotions from the terrible night, they silently agreed to let go of their baggage for the time being and just appreciate one another, falling asleep in each other’s embrace.

Safe and home at last.

………………………………………………………………………………….

☆ note: yeahhhh dazai fic! i literally haven’t written in ages but i’ve been knee-deep in my bungo stray dogs era and dazai is taking up most of my brain capacity at the moment. this feels both rushed and wayyyy too long at the same time lol, i just had that feral writing energy and had to get it off my chest as soon as possible. it might be a mess but i’m exhausted and i’ve reread it too many times to catch all my mistakes lmaooo whatever. thanks so much for reading :)

[anonymous-dentist]

On April 25, Cellbit finds himself crashing onto a tropical island filled with the weirdest goddamn people he's ever met in his life.

(On one side of the glass is Cellbit. On the other is a man in a red hoodie who takes one look at Cellbit and winks before rushing to talk to the other trapped Brazilians.

For a moment, Cellbit swears there's a spark- a literal pink spark in the air directly between the two of them where they had locked eyes, and he swears that the man's eyes glitter the same pink just for a second.

But that's ridiculous. It's probably a concussion. Or something.)

On April 26, Cellbit wakes up to a heavy pain in his chest and back and a foreign weight to his limbs as he tries rolling over in bed. There's a pressure behind his eyes, all... all two of them.

Cellbit's eyelids twitch unhappily as a ray of incoming sunlight hits them from the window.

He hisses, and that's when he notices two very important things:

He doesn't have two eyes. He knows the familiar discomfort of keeping one's eyes closed when they're ready to open, and he can recognize the fact that this discomfort is multiplied by goddamn two. That makes... four eyes.

He isn't in his own bed. He went to sleep without a blanket or a pillow, just his hat and his jacket because, big surprise, spending most of the day in a cave didn't get him any luxuries besides a sore back and a definitely-not-dead child.

Cellbit opens his eyes, all four of them, and he's only a little surprised to see that he is not, in fact, in his own house.

"What?" he croaks.

He grimaces. Sore throat, almost like he'd been screaming in his sleep. Nothing he isn't used to, but it doesn't feel right in this body. In... whoever's body this is.

He pushes himself so that he's sitting up and against the wall. His chest pulls with every movement of his arms, muscles twinging in pain, and it almost reminds him of the War, almost. (He caused wounds like this, anyway. He didn't get hurt like this. He was too good.)

He looks down. Spider-Man boxer briefs. Naked chest, huge scar cut across the middle of it over his heart. Hairy legs, bruised arms and knuckles.

Vaguely, he thinks that he recognizes the house. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe? But he'd only seen the outside, and it would be crazy if his soulmate turned out to be that guy.

But, well. There's only one spider hybrid on the island that Cellbit knows about. Maybe there are more, but he's pretty sure that he met everyone yesterday. (He thinks; he was pretty distracted by the whole what the fuck I have a child now??? thing.)

Cellbit should be happy. And he kinda feels like it, in a distant way. But it's with a sense of numb fear that he grabs Roier's communicator off of the bedside table and opens a new message with... himself? His comm. That Roier has. Because he's in his body. At his house.

[iRoier whispers to Cellbit: I think we have a problem]

-

When Cellbit had finally officially turned 16 years old, Bad sat down in the middle of a warzone and told him that, one of these days, he might wake up in the body of one of his enemies.

"What?" Cellbit had grimaced, blood coating his face and crusting under his nails. "Why? Is that a new origin or something?"

Bad shook his head. "No, you goof. It's a soulmate thing. You know. Soulmates."

And that's when he realized that Cellbit's amnesia really was, in fact, amnesia. Of course he wouldn't have remembered his parents giving him the Soulmate Talk, Cellbit- at the time- didn't believe that he even had parents. ("I was born from blood, and to blood I shall return," he said when Bad tried asking, so Bad stopped bothering after a while.)

And so it fell to BadBoyHalo to give Cellbit the Soulmate Talk.

"When you turn 16, the universe assigns you a soulmate," Bad had explained. "And when you meet that soulmate, you'll both switch bodies with each other overnight. It'll only last 24 hours, though, so it should be fine if you meet your soulmate out here."

Cellbit had blinked, confused. "What? Ew, no."

Because, as romantic as the idea of soulmates sounds, Cellbit was a 16-year-old boy. Why would he give a shit about his soulmate when he could be thinking about, like, blood and violence and stuff.

By the time Cellbit was arrested, he had finally warmed up to the idea of having a soulmate if only because having someone assigned to him by the universe meant that there'd be someone on the outside willing to break him out of prison and help him get his revenge on all the fuckers who had dared try and mess with him while he was in there.

But then, after prison- after everything, Cellbit had realized that maybe he wasn't meant to have a soulmate, after all. Why would he? Why would the universe be so kind as to give him someone to care about who would actually love him back? Who would like him back?

Whoever his soulmate might've been, Cellbit had always hoped that they were dead. They'd be better off dead than stuck with a monster like him.

-

By the time Roier makes it to his own house, the sun is high in the sky and Cellbit has managed to find a a shirt and a pair of shorts to throw on on top of his underwear. (On top of Roier's underwear?)

Bobby is still asleep upstairs, Cellbit thinks. At least, he hasn't heard anything from him. Should he be worried?

But then Cellbit looks out the window and watches his body trip over itself on the dirt and faceplant, and, well, Bobby can wait.

Roier's body is... heavy as Cellbit pulls a pair of shoes on. It doesn't want to cooperate, but that can't be right, it's supposed to be natural. Or something. Cellbit thinks. Maybe.

So he doesn't actually know how soulmates work, but it's supposed to be natural, right? That's how he remembers Bad explaining it, but he also remembers Bad having as much emotional awareness as a rock.

Vaguely, he wonders if the problem isn't with the fact that it's Cellbit being in Roier's body but that it's because it's Roier's body and that this is just how it is for Roier all the time. But that's none of Cellbit's business.

(Yet.)

(Maybe.)

(Eventually?)

(Turn the detective brain off, fuck.)

Whatever!

Cellbit runs out the door and goes to help Roier up. He isn't hurt at all as Roier swears at him and grumbles and pushes himself up onto his knees.

"I'm fine," he insists. "See?"

He gestures towards himself with a sharp-toothed grin, eyes squinted shut, and, wow, it's weird for Cellbit to see himself smile. His body doesn't really... do that. It's unnatural. Kinda creepy, like looking into a fucked-up mirror.

Cellbit offers an awkward smile in response, and it hurts. Not his face, no, his soul. Well, not his soul, because that would be silly, but some weird little part inside his Everything stings and pulses with a dull, throbbing pain so sudden and harsh that his throat chokes up and tears threaten to well up in Cellbit's eyes.

With a shuddering breath, Cellbit drops his smile and his eyes. He looks at the ground, and he says, "Uh. We should talk inside, maybe?"

He doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and walking back into Roier's house. He does hold the door open, though, remembering that Roier's house has that weird security thing on the door that keeps everybody but him out.

"Your legs are too short," Roier complains as he brushes past Cellbit and walks into the house. "I keep tripping over shit."

"...I'm sorry?" Cellbit offers. (He internally smacks himself. No, stupid, why is he sorry? He can't control his genetics, fuck!)

Roier waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. It's just for today, right?"

He sits at his table with a groan, eyes slipping shut and head tilting over the back of the chair. He looks so... calm. Which means that Cellbit's actual real normal face looks calm, and that's weird. He doesn't do calm.

Hesitantly, Cellbit joins him at the table. He sits directly opposite him, leg bouncing nervously, hands clasped in his lap.

And then? Silence. Absolutely nothing but the slight rattle of the table as Cellbit's (Roier's?) knee bumps against it and the quiet sound of snoring from upstairs. (So Bobby is still asleep. That's normal, right?)

Cellbit glances at the goggles still firmly on his body's head.

"Thanks for keeping them on," he lamely says.

Roier hums a question mark and cracks an eye open, following Cellbit's gaze. He smiles, then, small and clearly fake.

"Hey, man, it's fine," he replies. "It kind of hurts, but it's fine."

Cellbit winces. "I mean, you can take them off! It's fine, it's just us."

Roier shrugs, but he doesn't move to take the goggles off.

Quiet again.

This is... fine. It's fine! Cellbit's soulmate is just a guy who probably maybe dislikes him, that's all. It's nothing he wasn't expecting from his soulmate, he knows how he is as a person. Roier is probably just disappointed, that's all.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Cellbit says after a moment.

He looks back down at the table as Roier sits up to look at him.

Cellbit wrings his hands together, fingers hooking together and pulling-pushing and they throb from the bruises, and where did Roier get them, anyway? From the pattern, Cellbit would say Roier had punched something, but here are also small cuts indicating the involvement of glass, and-

(Detective brain. Off.)

"I mean, it's crazy, right?" Cellbit laughs weakly. "Us, soulmates? We don't even know each other."

"I mean, yeah, but that's normal, I think. You don't know your soulmate until you meet them, that's how it works."

"I guess? But-"

"And!" Roier interjects. "I know you better already! You sleep with your sword and you have cat ears, that's more than I know about half of my dates!"

Cellbit winces at the mention of his ears, but he manages to huff out a quiet laugh. He even feels himself smile, though it hurts bad enough for him to force it away after a moment.

"Okay," he breathes, and he looks up to meet Roier's (his own?) eyes. "So... it's fine?"

"What the fuck do you think I've been saying, pendejo?" Roier exclaims. He reaches across the table and lightly taps Cellbit on the forehead between his top set of eyes. "I know my body isn't deaf, so start listening."

He sits again, continuing speaking before Cellbit can say anything:

"I don't know you, and that's fine. You don't know me, and that's fine. You threatened my son yesterday, and that's fine. I'll threaten your son to make it even."

"Hey!" Cellbit protests.

Roier ignores him and keeps talking. "We're stuck on this island, Cellbit. We aren't allowed to leave. If we try, Osito Bimbo shoots us. So that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other."

Cellbit's eyes widen in alarm. "We're what?"

He thinks he remembers somebody mentioning that to him and the others yesterday, but there was so much going on that he didn't really register it. Prison, again? At least it's open-air this time...

Roier shrugs his concerns off with a literal wave of the hand. "So see? It's fine. We'll figure each other out, and then we'll kiss and have sex and stuff. Right?"

"Um," Cellbit stammers, the tips of his ears going red. "Maybe just the kissing part."

"Sure, sure. Point is..." Roier stands out of his chair and leans across the table, reaching down and pulling Cellbit's hands out of his lap. He holds them and looks Cellbit in the eyes and gravely asks, "...Cellbit, will you be my soulmate?"

Cellbit rolls his eyes and gently pulls his hands away. "I don't think I get a choice."

"Aw, come on! You're no fun," Roier pouts.

"There, that's a third thing you know about me."

"Shut up, what the fuck?"

And as the argument continues, the weight in Cellbit's heart slowly starts to lift. Just a little, because it's just the beginning, but maybe... maybe having a soulmate won't be that bad, after all.

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog maaaaaaaybe with a comment or a tag and tell me what you think! Or send an ask, I'm fine with anything!

[ky-randomshitposting]

yall get a MacDoc oneshot, context is Macgyver got kidnapped and tortured for like 5 months and Murdoc found him, this is far from done and not extremely proof read so don't mind mistakes

Mac's body absolutely ached, it had been months since he was captured and they tortured him daily, each day was something different, they assumed he would break eventually and tell them everything they wanted to know about the phoenix, but no matter what they did, or how painful it was mentally or physically, he never spoke anything more than a scream or some type of taunt.

When they realized he wasn't going to break they dumped him in the forest. The second Mac heard them leave he collapsed, right as his consciousness faded he heard a twig snap near him, all he hoped was he wasn't going to wake up back there, but he couldn't be bothered to keep his eyes open any longer, he needed the rest he had been deprived of, no matter what.

Mac shot up into a sitting position, panting as his mind raced, his eyes tried to adjust to his surroundings, taking a moment to process the pain he was in, he felt the softness of the bed under him and shifted his legs off the edge of the bed, he couldn't recognize where he was, the room was dim only being illuminated by a bedside lamp, and next to him was an iv bag set up properly on a stand and connect to his right arm, whatever it was definitely helped with the pain.

Mac sighed and mumbled "This isn't medical..so where am I?" Right as he completed the sentence the door frame creaked and he looked up only to be met with a familiar face

"Correct, and one of my safehouses" Murdoc said as he leaned and smiled, giving a slight wave at Mac.

Mac tensed and winced "Murdoc..?" Mac rubbed his eyes almost as if he couldn't process his enemy is the one who saved him "The one and only" Murdoc teased as he joined Mac's side, standing next to the bed, his eyes seemingly glancing over Mac to check his condition.

"How are we feeling boyscout?" The sentence almost ended with a hum followed by a slight smile. "Not great.." Mac sounded exhausted.

In all honesty, he felt like he'd been hit by a train, actually the train may have hurt less. Murdoc nodded and his hands reached to mess with the iv bag, after a few moments he seemed content "That should help." he said as he turned his attention back to Mac.

Murdoc slid a hand under Mac's chin and tilted it up inspecting him closely "Murdoc?" Mac was confused but staring into Murdoc's eyes as Murdoc seemingly studied him.

After a moment Mac hadnt noticed Murdoc grab something from his coat jacket until a bright light was in his eyes, he flinched from the suddenness but luckily didn't show any signs of a concussion. Murdoc nodded approvingly.

"Sorry, didn't get to preform that check on you since you were out" Murdoc slipped the flashlight back into his jacket and released Mac's chin.

Mac sighed and rubbed his eyes "Why?" Mac mumbled, returning to look at Murdoc who paused "Checking for a concussion is important? Should I check again I feel like you would know that?" Murdoc slightly tilted his head as he spoke, looking Mac over again for a brief moment.

"Not that, why'd you uh.." Mac paused "What is it?" Murdoc slightly leaned forward twords Mac, looming over him, that chill of nervousness seeping through Mac "Why'd you save me?" Mac leaned back slightly creating a little more distance between him and Murdoc who softly chuckled.

"Well, your dear phoenix team failed to save you, so I did. After all I'm the only one who can kill you remember." Murdoc cooed at he moved to clasp his hands together and his borderline creepy grin returned.

Mac gulped "They would've found me eventually" Mac mumbled, looking away from Murdoc and instead looking down at his legs, dread seeped into the pit of his stomach, he couldn't say he entirely believed what he just said, but he wanted to.

Murdoc frowned "Yeah sure, they would've eventually found you dead in a forest." His tone got a bit snarky near the end.

Mac quickly moved his head up and stared at Murdoc with wide eyes "Don't say that" he sounded somewhat annoyed and hurt.

Murdoc gritted his teeth "Your team failed to save you for 5. Fucking. Months. Don't you look me dead in my eyes and tell me they would've found you alive." He ended the sentence with almost a hiss as he leaned twords Mac by the end he was merely inches away from his face.

"I kept more tabs on you then they ever did, if I hadn't been able to track you down you wouldn't be breathing right now, you gave me more then enough trouble trying to keep you alive do not make me regret it now." Murdoc's hand reached behind Mac's head harshly pulling his hair to force his head back as he spoke.

"Now." Murdoc released his grip and stopped looming "I'm going to go prepare dinner, you're going to rest, end of story." Murdoc was cold, he spent hours fixing up Mac, and now he wanted to say his team would've saved him? Absolutely bullshit.

Murdoc left the room before Mac could respond to him, Mac's left hand slowly reaching up to his hair to sooth the new ache appearing, though he did notice his body hurt a whole lot less now after Murdoc messed with the iv, Mac sighed and laid back down, normally he would try to devise some sort of plan, but he was still completely exhausted from the past five months, so he decided despite the fact it was Murdoc he was dealing with, he'd listen and get some rest.

Mac began to doze off, the lessened pain finally giving him a much needed opportunity to relax, soon his consciousness slipped again, after about an hour he felt something shaking him awake, but he didn't want to wake up yet, then he felt a hand on the side of his neck, Mac let out an annoyed breath.

"Not dead" he mumbled as his eyes finally opened. Murdoc was leaning over him and let out a soft breath and his slight panicked look diminished when Mac finally responded.

Murdoc motioned to the food on the night stand "Dinner is ready." Mac turned to look at the food, slowly sitting up "Thank you, Murdoc.." it felt wrong to not thank the assassin, however it did still feel weird to do so.

Murdoc slightly smiled "Of course boyscout, now eat you need the energy." Murdoc slowly moved the bowl of chicken and rice soup into Mac's hands, who shakily took it.

Murdoc headed to the door but waited in the door way for a moment, studying Mac, Mac didn't notice as he took his first bite of food, which was quite delicious unexpectedly, he hadn't known Murdoc knew how to cook. Right after Mac successfully took a bite of food Murdoc departed down the hallway with a satisfied hum.

Mac had quite missed good quality food, being stuck in that place, only being able to eat a gross combination of food that gave him just enough nutrients to survive was worse than the torture at that point, torture he could withstand somewhat but gross food was a whole other story. Mac finished his soup quite quickly, he didn't know why he trusted Murdoc not to poison him right now, he figured since he had went through all that effort to save him he wouldn't, but he still had not a clue why Murdoc went through all that effort.

Mac stared at the iv in his arm, and the slow realization he had to get back to the phoenix set in, he needed a plan, and quickly, he doubted Murdoc would let him leave easily. Mac pulled the iv out, wincing slightly as he did, he went to stand but as he did he realized just how painful standing still was even with drugs in his system, he collapsed to the floor with a loud thump, panicking knowing he most certainly just alerted Murdoc, who he could hear softly approaching.

Mac wanted to try and hide, but his body ached so much he just stayed there, on his knees, in front of the bed, right where he just fell, and moments later Murdoc was crouched next to him.

"Angus..?" Murdoc sounded oddly soft and comforting, gently rubbing Mac's back, seemingly dodging the wounds he knew were back there.

Mac slowly turned to look at Murdoc, hesitating as he did "Sorry.." an apology was all he could think of to say, in hopes Murdoc wouldn't lose his temper with him.

Murdoc sighed gently shaking his head and laughed "Boyscout you really shouldn't try to escape before you can walk you know, as much as I enjoy chasing you, you aren't gonna put up much of a fight." He teased.

Mac let out a slight huff and rolled his eyes, Murdoc slowly helped Mac back onto the bed, his eyes glancing to the blood slowly trickling down Mac's arm, he sighed and left the room momentarily returning with a bandaid and a damp cloth. He crouched down next to the bed and cleaned the blood away, applying some pressure to the open wound to make sure it stopped bleeding.

Mac slightly winced "I know boyscout, but you did this to yourself." Murdoc continued to focus while Mac mumbled something unidentifiable.

Soon the bleeding had stopped and Murdoc placed a bandaid over it, he looked up at Mac "All done." he had a slight smile as he stood up.

Exiting the room to dispose of the cloth into a hamper and then returning with a bottle of medication and a cup of ice water. "Now I don't really want to fight to put that back in your arm, so we're switching over to pain medication." He placed the items on the night stand next to Mac, who had his left arm draped over his eyes not acknowledging Murdoc it seemed.

Murdoc raised an eyebrow before poking Mac in the shoulder "Boyscout..?" Mac grumbled and rolled over facing away from Murdoc, apparently the blond had already fallen back asleep.

[zeroducks-2]

I love your new ask chart you made—How does 30, X, and Sladick sound??

Hi guys ♥♥ thank you so much! I hope you don’t mind that you got lumped together!

30. Tortured together + C. “Let me have this one” + X. “It’s so cold” - Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

(TW: blood, non-graphic torture, needles, long post)

Dick dangles from his chains like a dead body would, not an ounce of strength in his arms and not the faintest attempt of balancing on the balls of his feet; he just hangs heavily and Slade feels like a part of himself is seeping out of him at the same rate as the kid’s heart pumps blood out of his wounds. 

Slade hadn’t initially been worried about his own capture. Not the first time it happens, likely not the last. He has a lot of enemies with a lot of resources, he’s been held captive by superheroes and supervillains alike and he knows he’ll get out. But then they brought in Nightwing, bloody and battered to the point of being hard to tell it was actually him, but Slade would recognize him even if he was zipped up in a body bag. They hung him by the wrists to that cross-like structure, not unlike the one Slade is strapped to, and a registered voice announced that watching the boy die was going to function as retribution for the blood Slade had spilled. They provided names and surnames of who the blood actually belonged to, but it’s not like it mattered anyway.  

It’s against Slade’s protocol to show that he cares about a hostage, but it doesn’t look like he needs to show anything here; he and Dick have been kept close, so close in fact that Slade has been able to pick up the way the kid’s breathing and heartbeat change, the subtle glances Dick has been sending him from time to time, and even the smallest twitches and jerks his body made as he kept taking beatings and pain. 

It’s been… a while. Slade is not sure how long. They douse both of them with icy cold water every once in a while, but there doesn’t seem to be a pattern. They never unbind their arms and a needle taped to Slade’s arm constantly pumps him full of a foul dark thing which inhibits his metagene, takes away his strength and keeps his head foggy enough he can’t think of a plan… but. But his healing factor hasn’t been inhibited entirely, and his skin has been slowly but consistently pushing the needle out while regenerating. It is out now, still hidden by the tape, and Slade is sobering up and his strength is returning, soon he will manage to break free of those chains. But he doesn’t know when “soon” is exactly going to be, and right now Dick is dying. 

Someone walks in and it’s like they know exactly what is happening because they are uncapping a syringe, dangerously looking at Dick while they’re at it.

«I suppose you would want to say something to him.» The young man announces, regarding Slade with an emotionless expression like whatever was alive and vibrant inside of him just withered off at some point. «You robbed me of saying goodbye to my father and sister. But I’m not like you, and I will grant you the chance to say goodbye.»

Slade remembers that contract. He won’t focus on the details now but it was a nasty business… the sister in question was a chemist selling her produce to the highest bidder, which then distributed it to various drug lords of three major cities of the east coast. The father was… a collateral victim. It doesn’t really matter now, he’s killed very many people for very many reasons anyway.

«So, any last words you want him to hear?» The boy insists, eyeing an unconscious Dick for a brief moment. «He might not actually hear them, but he’s going to be dead soon. You might as well try.»

Oh, they’re just trying to humiliate him, Slade knows. This is not compassion. «I don’t have anything to say to him. I have something to say to you.» He comments in the flattest tone he can manage. «Let me have this one. He’s been tortured enough while I have barely been touched. I won’t die with that injection, you and I both know this… it is going to hurt me though, a lot. Give it to me.»

«You don’t understand, Wilson. I want you to watch him die. You’ll-»

«You’re a chemist too. Just like your sister.» Slade insists, sharpening his eye. «You know this will not kill me if you inject me. It’ll just make the torture longer and more painful, which is exactly what you want.»

The young man seems to consider, or anyway uses some more precious seconds to think about it. «And why would you want to prolong the torture. You know both you and him are not going to get out of this alive.» He turns to Dick again, then back to Slade. «If I were you I’d just allow him to stop suffering now.»

«Because,» Slade licks his lips, they’re chapped but his mouth is as dry as it can be, so the gesture doesn’t yield much. «As long as he breathes I can hope that you will change your mind and let him go. And I’d prefer to hope for one more day.»  

Something shifts in the boy’s expression, and the dull emptiness of his eyes grows anguished for a moment. «This might actually kill you.» He says and tilts the syringe. «It probably will. I am indeed a chemist but my sister was the genius, and this toxin she crafted could flat-line any meta.» He takes one small step towards Slade. «Do you still want it?»

«Yes.» Slade replies, not even startled by how he didn’t really need to think about it for a fraction of a second. 

«Are you sure? He’s most likely going to die anyway. And I’m not letting him go even after you’re dead, Wilson.»

«Just give me the goddamn injection, boy.» Slade hisses between gritted teeth, muscles flexing in the restraints that don’t break, he doesn’t have his strength yet. «Come on.»

There’s a beat of silence, then another. Then the young man nods, very vaguely but he still does, and lifts the syringe more while taking another step towards Slade. The idea of watching him die a very painful death has to be too enticing, exactly as Slade was hoping. And then Dick is raising his head, his only visible eye open wide, something wild in the bloodshot and blue. In the quickest, most fluid moment Slade has ever seen he pulls his lower body up like he had no weight, and locks both legs around their captor’s neck, yanking him back and away from Slade. 

«No!» The mercenary yells as the struggling man chokes, digging nails into Dick’s thigh with one hand, and trying to stab him with the syringe with the other. But before he can manage there’s the telltale dull crack of bones snapping, then his arms grow limp and fall down, and then both him and Dick drop. The latter is still dangling from his bindings while the former hits the ground with a thud, his neck bending unnaturally. 

It takes five more minutes for Slade’s strength to return, enough so he can break free of his own restraints. He’s still way weaker than he should, his muscles are numb from lack of use. He forces them to work anyway.

«Talk to me, Grayson.» He grunts as he holds the kid to the chest after breaking his restraints as well, forcing himself to give a quick check to his wounds and patch up the most severe ones, or Dick isn’t going to survive their escape. There’s a muted mumble in response but Slade hears it anyway, and he thinks Dick just said they should be on a first name basis at this point. He snorts despite himself but it sounds choked like he was about to cry. «We have been for a while now, haven’t we…» He replies, stripping pieces of the dead man’s shirt for makeshift bandages, making sure Dick’s wounds stop bleeding. «You need to stay with me now, kid. Can you do that?»

Dick nods. His face is swollen, cut and bruised, he’s barely recognizable, and Slade prevents himself from holding him too tight because his kid is in so much pain already. He should really stop feeling like crying, though. «Talk to me.» He repeats, carefully pulling a black lock from Dick’s forehead. 

«’s so cold.» The other murmurs through split and chapped lips, and Slade doesn’t manage to stop himself any longer and hugs him to his chest, his body is indeed so cold. He’s lost so much blood. 

«I know, little bird.» He says to the side of Dick’s head, breathing in and out and pulling himself together. «Let’s get the hell out of here.»

Here's the ask game! Feel free to prompt me again or reblog it yourself.

[anerdquemoraaolado]

Grains of Sand by The Shore

Well, here we have the first chapter of my Namuri fic, guess I really jumped on that ship wagon.

So, a little disclaimer here, I chose to make this an AU where TChalla stills lives, I hope this is not offensive in any way, I really felt the loss of the character, and even more the loss of the great Chadwick Boseman, so this is a way to honour him and the wonderful  and important character that is Black Panther.

Without further ado, hope you guys enjoy.

Chapter 1

Before Shuri's hand touched the door authorizing her entry, she hesitated a lot. Her mental state was still recovering after everything she had been through the past few days, her and all of Wakanda. At least, in the midst of so much chaos, a symbolic gesture, which Shuri had put aside trying to figure out its meaning for a while, brought a hope that seemed lost.

T'Challa was right there on the other side of the bedroom door, apparently alive and well, according to the medical team's report. She had left her brother in the care of her talented and competent scientists while she defended the nation. Her and her brother's roles had been switched for a while. She was relieved that it was only for a brief period of time. Shuri had also made a point of being there when her brother woke up, and that was what she would do.

She entered the room then, finding T'Challa resting. He had always been strong and hardworking, her rock, an unwavering warrior, with a perfect sense of humor that understood hers. Losing him would be irreparable and that was why she let the feeling of relief wash over her at seeing him so peaceful, breathing deeply.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, lids fluttering and irises searching for some direction, trying to recognize where he was.

-Shuri? - he murmured softly, hesitating, not quite sure if it was really his sister there.

She broke down in tears, leaning over his lap, not caring about the pain of her knees hitting the floor at once. T'Challa had no idea what the commotion was about, but he preferred to leave her alone. Surely she would tell her what she needed when she was ready. On instinct, he started stroking her head and just then his sister reacted and looked at him.

-You don't know how happy I am that you're alright - she confessed, getting up slowly, recovering herself little by little.

-I don't really know what happened, I remember being on a stretcher, in your laboratory, did I pass out? - he genuinely wanted to know.

-I made a difficult decision when I saw that I couldn't cure you - she told him slowly, the memories of that moment were still disturbing - I put you in cryogenics, for almost a year, you almost died before I found the cure, but then. .. well, I replicated the heart shaped herb, in short, it will grow again.

-That's wonderful, but how did you do it? - T'Challa wanted to know the details that she had withheld.

-That's a pretty long story, really - she sighed - but I promise I'll tell you as soon as you recover.

"I'll wait," he stated without a doubt, which left her a little on edge, but completely happy that he was there, asking her for answers.

Shuri talked a little more with her brother about his treatment and his state of improvement since then. She let him rest for more days, until he was completely ready to return to his post.

A grand ceremony was called to celebrate the return of the King of Wakanda to his rightful throne. The entire nation cheered him through the main streets, a procession that followed to the throne room, with the entire council in attendance. Shuri wasn't there, which was a comforting thing for her, everything had fallen into place for her. She was a scientist, not a warrior. Her decision to defend the country came from an extremely necessary situation.

Though she was glad to be back in her natural habitat, Shuri remembered what made her so busy there, recreating the heart shaped herb through an enemy's gift, who had taken her mother from her.

She hadn't heard more from Namor, but in her mind was the constant warning that he might reappear again, and she still had the shell that served as a communicator. Maybe this side of the sea would need to call him sometime. Even with the losses and all the violence, they had ended their conflict as allies, and eventually, T'Challa would have to meet him.

Thinking exactly about that, Shuri received a visit from her brother in the laboratory, which made her focus on him at the moment.

-Can I help you with something? - she volunteered.

"I have some good news before I ask you something," he confessed, smiling.

-Really? I'm all ears! - she replied in the same enthusiasm.

-I intend to marry Nakia, she accepted the proposal - the king let himself smile, really happy, expressing his joy.

-Thank you Bast, finally! - Shuri even raised her hands and did a short turn, which drew a laugh from her brother.

-I know it's exciting, but now comes my request - he got serious again.

"Fine." She crossed her arms willingly.

-I heard that you interacted with the king of Talokan, the undersea kingdom that also has vibranium - he started the subject - and I know about all the confrontations and the casualties, our mother, what happened to her was a fatality... the question is that... as much as you clashed, I understand that he is our ally, that's why the elders suggested that I invite him to the wedding as a gesture of goodwill. I wanted to know your opinion and what you have to say about him, what do you know about him.

The explanation left her slightly dizzy, having a little trouble processing what she was hearing. Meeting Namor was closer than ever.

-Well, he... - she cleared her throat lightly and continued - he's an ally of Wakanda, I think inviting him would show that we're at peace with both kingdoms, that he's welcome and that in a way, the past is gone. 

- So you agree with the visit? - T'Challa waited for her confirmation.

"Yes," she nodded, quietly.

There was something bothering Shuri, something that had changed her, subtle attitudes that weren't like her. Surely what she had gone through was much more delicate than he could have foreseen at the time. It was better not to force her to say if she wasn't comfortable.

-What do you say about Namor? - the king repeated.

-He is headstrong, relentless, even fierce as a warrior, but certainly protective, motivated by revenge and how colonizers viewed him and his people in the past.

"That last part didn't sound good to me," he confessed.

-Yes, I felt it on my skin, literally what that means - she shrugged, almost touching the scar from the wound on her abdomen - but our agreement was made precisely because we left that aside, and from what I saw he is a man word, will fulfill what we agreed.

-Very well, then, I'll talk to him personally - he decided - do you know a way to contact him?

-Actually, I do - she remembered - he left me a shell, said I could only blow on the seaside.

-Are you joining me in this meeting? - her brother asked and that made her shudder a little, starting to get anxious, without really knowing why.

-Yes, of course, someone needs to take care of you after all - she gave him a relaxed smile, almost the same Shuri as always, almost...

-Okoye is coming with us too - T'Challa also said in a relaxed way, but still paying attention to his sister's slight discomfort.

Again, he reminded himself that he wouldn't ask questions she didn't want to answer and changed the subject, which made her feel better.

.

[caranox]

Flash Fiction Friday Prompt #180: Promise You'll Write @flashfictionfridayofficial

A Promise Broken

Sand shifted under Lars's boots in his agonizing march forward. The sun burned against his skin hotter than any fire he'd stoked in the kitchen and agitated under a pan of sizzling vegetables. No wind sang in his ears like the haunting melody of the woman he'd likened to his mother for the past several years.

Instead, a small beaded chain rubbed against itself with each wobbling step, its pendant plates digging into his palm and slicked with sweat. The only sound that intruded through his panting.

"You want to stay?" The surprise when she'd asked made his stomach knot. "You don't want to go home?"

Home.

Saints, that word rang so hollow to his ears the moment it slipped from her mouth. No lush paint brushed onto the canvas of his mind to show him where that was or who that was with. No names tickled the back of his thoughts. No memories surfaced from that deep, dark abyss in which they had fallen, back just before this woman's forest green eyes stared back at him the first day they'd met.

"I barely know my own name," he rasped, swallowing back that pain emanating from that cavernous void. "How can I step foot in a place I don't recognize—to people I don't recognize—"

Her face crumbled as she rounded the table and wrapped her arms around him. "Then you can stay," she whispered.

How quickly that life passed before his eyes, the days falling into months and those months piling up into years. Years with small drips of echoed words without context until some stranger stood in front of him and breathed his name as if he'd seen a ghost.

Like a crack in a pane of glass webbing outward until it shattered with the tiniest tap. He should've stopped trying to reinforce it, but that terrified part of him didn't want to let go of this life.

All the new memories clashed with the old, forcing him to remember every little step that'd brought him here.

"No matter what, you'll always be my son. You will always be welcomed here. I chose to accept you when you were lost."

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped to his knees.

"Even if one of us is a monster in the end?"

The phantom itch of his military uniform's stitching rubbed at his neck, and he tugged his ratty scarf over his head.

"Neither of us are monsters, Lars."

"But you knew I was with the enemy and still took me in. What if I tried to kill you?"

She cupped his face, his growing sunburn turning into a comfort in that brief recollection.

"We're people. We make choices and mistakes. We learn. We grow. Promise me you'll remember that."

His mouth had twitched, uncertain he could promise such a thing when he couldn't remember the last one he'd made to a face he couldn't conjure. "I promise."

But now he remembered that face. Those kind, dark eyes and soft wrinkles of a woman wrought with worry as she hugged him goodbye.

His fingers uncurled and the metal tag shone in the early afternoon light. Stamped letters spelled out his full name, the surname a perfect match to the boy that'd placed it in his hand after Lars had apologized for not recognizing his own brother.

He'd been there to see him off to war, along with their youngest brother, and Lars's real mother.

"Promise you'll write."

A promise from another life.

A promise he couldn't keep.

[mrs-gucci]

I’m going to try come up with other ideas lol but these jumped out at me. I would absolutely use these for something! I’m saving them too because I just might!

But if you feel like it, these combined scenarios could be really fun for a sarcastic, grouchy ass Flip or Kylo AU. It could be anything from enemies to antagonists to the guy being in trouble with you currently from doing stupid shit and trying to make up with you! Anything you think!

your enemy has been badly wounded, and somebody needs to bandage them up, so you agree to help them, and suddenly they're shirtless, and you can't help but admire their body, something this cheeky motherfucker takes notice of

there's only one bed, but this time, they're arguing over who should sleep on the floor, which nobody agrees to, so instead they end up sharing, incredibly annoyed over having to share their space (it’s not like friends to lovers, in which they both awkwardly get into bed. this is straight up just. i will set this bed on fire if you don’t stay on your side)

The Longest Knight {Sir Kylo Ren x Reader}

author's notes: hello, hello! shannon, dear, you always seem to know what I'm in need of when you send requests in. I've been dying for an excuse to write some medieval/knight Kylo, and this fits in perfectly with that AU, so thank you! <3

**THERE ARE SOME DARK(ER) THEMES IN THIS STORY, BUT ONLY AT THE VERY BEGINNING (there’s an indicator of when the dark content ends, in bold, you can’t miss it). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND TW’S BEFORE PROCEEDING!**

warnings: some angst. some gore. some fluff. smut. enemies-with-benefits. sex w/o feelings. kylo is a huge douche (but in, like, a lowkey sexy way). 

tw's: (at the very beginning): dead bodies & blood, vivid depictions of wounds/injuries, brief depictions of battle, implied (battle-related) murder. mentions of sex work (later on in the story, not relating to the reader character).

word count: 4.4k

terms to know: loincloth: groin-covering cloth tied around the waist (literally just underwear). bedswerver: “adulterer” (an insult). mamillare: medieval breast band (bra).

When the sounds of marching footfall, deep cries of manly battle, and shod hooves pounding on the drought-hardened ground had ceased from the air, you saddle your horse and ride out to the far field of your property. 

The putrid smell of rotting flesh hits you before any bodies are even in view. Your prized stallion slows his trot, nostrils flaring and ears perked forward as the scene of battle presents itself to both of you.

He begins to snort and whinny in acute panic at the sight of so many corpses, both human and horse. Your stomach begins to churn, and you can barely bring yourself to look upon the scene as your heel encourages him onward, wanting to make sure there aren’t any surviving soldiers. 

Both sides seem to have suffered great loss, although you’re unsure which corpses belong to which side. The conflict betwixt Alderaan and Naboo has been dragging on much too long, and at the end of the day, is any conflict truly worth all of the lives lost?

You certainly didn’t think so, but perhaps you’re just too close to this war, incapable of having an unbiased opinion due to the loss of your beloved husband at the hands of Sir Kylo Ren, the Alderaanean calvary general and the most feared man across all five kingdoms. 

As you make your rounds to check for survivors, much to the dismay of your steed, you quickly lose almost all hope that anyone laid here ended up surviving the brutality apparently brought down upon them during the fight. 

Suddenly, your horse lifts himself up on hinds legs ever so slightly, jogging in place as a barely-audible groan comes from one of the men. His hand moves ever so slightly, and you quickly rush over to him, dismounting with a small first aid bag.

His helmet is that of a high-ranking official, but on which side he belongs, it’s too hard to tell. Not that it truly matters, you’d take just about any man with the courage to fight these battles.

“Sir?” You say, kneeling down beside the large man. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He grunts lowly, winter-chapped lips opening in an attempt to speak. “S-Stomach.”

Once your mind registers his husky words, you look down at his abdomen and see that his armor seems to have been compromised in a spot right on the side of his stomach. Fresh blood seeps from the deep wound, and you cringe, grabbing one of the towels from your pack to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the tear in flesh is so deep, it’s impossible to do with just one towel. **dark content warnings ENDS**

“My estate is just a short ride from here. I cannot hold your weight myself, but if you can mount my horse, I will take you back and mend your wounds to the best of my ability.”

The mask nods softly, slowly but surely lifting himself up off the ground, wobbling towards your horse, who snorts nervously. He seemingly understands the severity of the situation, though, and stands still as the knight sits himself on his back. 

From there, he lays back, breath catching in his throat as his injuries are tweaked with each of the horses’ strides. You hold onto the reins, leading your stallion back to the house. 

After quite a bit of maneuvering and a lot of quarreling with the injured knight, you finally manage to set him up the cot in your spare bedroom. He sits down on the chair as you do so, mumbling and grumbling about his pain. You found it quite annoying, really, but you can’t really blame him for acting in such a way.

“You’ll need to remove your armor, sir. I cannot treat your wounds with it on.”

“By God’s bones.” He curses under his breath in annoyance, but stands and removes his body armor nonetheless.

Piece by piece is peeled from his body, his physically intimidating figure revealed slowly to your curious eyes. Only his under-layers were left, soon enough, and you found it a bit odd that he hadn’t taken his helmet off first. You would think that would be a great relief to have the proper air exposure on your face, but you’re not really in a place to make assumptions about that sort of thing.

His brilliantly alabaster skin is severely bloodied, bruised, and badly butchered. He would require quite some time to heal and recover, but if you learned anything from being married to an army man, it’s that they’re all stubborn bastards who never take the proper time to allow time for their bodies to properly heal.

He’s soon fully exposed to you, minus his helmet and threadbare loincloth, and you have to look away quickly as your cheeks heat up. The small garment left very little to the imagination, and this knight was...well endowed, to put it kindly.

Putting your own personal feelings aside for the betterment of the patient, you look back up at him with a small smile. “You may remove your helmet now, good sir.”

“I cannot reach up to grab it from my head.” He says in a flat, unamused voice.

“Of course.” You scold yourself for not thinking of that. “Well, if you lay down on the cot, I shall remove it for you.”

Instead of protest, which is what you expected, he complied with your instructions and laid down on the cot. He grunts satisfyingly at the comfort of a mattress, most likely used to sleeping on the ground.

When you reach for the bottoms of his helmet to pull it off, he suddenly snatches your wrist, stopping you instantly.

“If you need touch me, ask before doing so.” His voice is nothing more than a growl.

You almost roll your eyes, starting to truly become annoyed with this knight. You invited him into your home and you’re willing to be his bedside nurse...and he has the audacity to request something like this.

Again you’re forced to put your personal feelings aside for the sake of your patient and for the maintenance of your bedside manner, forcing a smile onto your face. “With all due respect, sir, I’m your nurse for the time being. I will be needing to touch you quite often. Am I really expected to ask each and every time?”

“Yes.” He replies.

Your jaw clenches and you wish nothing more in this moment than to smack this man right across the face.

“Fine. May I please remove your helmet?”

Sparing you the assurance of a vocal reply, the mask simply nods, and you pull it over his head. When the face of your patient is revealed to your eyes, you’re appalled.

It’s Sir Kylo Ren...the man that murdered your husband.

You drop the helmet onto the ground, metal clattering as it rocks back and forth once it’s settled in one spot on the hardwood. This can’t be real.

He snarls. “Why are you looking upon me with that expression? Have you never seen a man before? I have wounds that need tended to, girl, and I’d like to be out of here before sundown.”

Anger begins to boil your blood, tears burning in your eyes as you look down at the man before you.

“You bastard.” Your hand raises, ready to strike him clean against the cheek. He catches your fist in his hand before you can, though.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Kylo warns, squeezing your fist. “I’ll have to have you beheaded for hitting an army man, and your head is much too pretty to be put to such waste.”

You snort, yanking yourself from his grip, teeth gritting as you walk out to fetch all the medical supplies. He’s wearing a cocky expression when you walk back in.

“I recognize you.” He says.

You huff, unamused. “How could you possibly recognize me? We’ve never met.”

His lips curl up into a devious smirk. “You’re right, we haven’t met before, but I recognize you from your husband’s description. I asked him what you looked like, since he was babbling on and on about you.”

You freeze up, bottom lip beginning to quiver as Sir Kylo continues.

“Then I drove my blade straight through his pathetic chest, and later that night, I touched myself as I thought of you.”

He chuckles deviously.

“Bedswerver!” You yell, cocking your fists once more and lunging at him, ready to strike once more. But then, you stop yourself, knowing the consequences you’d surely face should you actually hit him. 

Your fists lower and you simply say nothing, preparing the cloths in the warm water. The tears run down your cheeks on their own volition, but you quickly wipe them away before turning back towards him. 

“He wasn’t worthy of your company, Y/N.” Kylo says as you begin to clean the wounds on his stomach. “And he clearly didn’t satisfy you in the way you needed, considering the manner in which you looked over my body when I took my armor off.”

His hand reaches around and squeezes your ass, making you jump. 

“How long has it been, little lamb? A young woman like you shouldn’t have to live without a man to satisfy her aching need.”

You can’t pretend that you’re not aroused by his words, by his touch. But you’d never let him have you, not in a thousand years. So, you quickly swat his hand away and continue cleaning his wounds. “That’s none of your concern, Sir Kylo. I am perfectly content without a man and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He laughs. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I bet you’re aching right now, just from my words and my simple touch.”

Before he can touch you further, you back away, limbs trembling with anger and frustration. You dunk the bloody rag back into the bowl of water, ring it out a bit, then throw it onto his chest.

“Clean the wounds yourself, since you can obviously move your hands and arms perfectly fine.” You say, wiping your own on a dry cloth. “I’ll be back to bandage you in a bit.”

“Don’t think of me too much, lamb. You’ll release too quickly.” He snickers as you slam the door shut behind you, bursting into tears the moment you step foot into your bedroom.

You sob quietly, the freshly-healed stitches of your heart popping open one at a time, the grief and pain of losing your beloved consuming you once more. 

And now you’re here, mending his killer.

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

It takes everything you have, every ounce of willpower, to wake up and face Sir Kylo every single day. You know you’re doing the right thing by helping him, but that doesn’t make dealing with him any easier.

He’s impossibly stubborn, arrogant beyond comprehension, and increasingly grumpy. But, you just have to keep going, keep pushing through, reminding yourself that each day brings you closer and closer to his inevitable departure.

You’ve all but blocked out his inappropriate and antagonizing comments or remarks, just getting his bandages replaced and then leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Today, though, he’s achieved a new level of jackassery, a thing you thought impossible until he did it. And boy, did he do it.

“I’ve made arrangements for a few whores to come and provide me some...company.”

Your fist tightens around the bandage in your hand. He smirks.

“You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s plenty of me to go around, little lamb. You’ll get your turn.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather stab myself with a sword.” You reply, beginning to switch out his bandages. “You’re lucky I’m even allowing it to occur in my house.”

He just chuckles. “You’d probably be bad, anyway.”

You suddenly rip the bandage off of his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. He looks at you, and you glare down at him. “Just...can you please just stop talking for once in your life? Must you always berate me when all I’ve done over the past few weeks is take care of you? Is this what kindness, genuine kindness, gets me?”

He suddenly seems to sober up, to let what he’s done to you sink in. It doesn’t last long, but you still see it. Perhaps he does have the capability to feel at least some sense of remorse.

Kylo stays quiet for the rest of the time you tend to his wounds, and when you turn to leave, the two words you’ve been convinced are not in his vocabulary, come from the behind you.

“Thank you.”

This sliver of empathy is short lived, especially after the girls from the local brothel make their way up to his room. 

“Oh! Oh! Sir Kylo!”

You shake your head, attempting to read in the study, which is located on the other side of house from the guest bedroom. Yet, their screams, cries and the various other lewd noises still manage to make their way to your ears.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Take it, whore, take it!” “Kyloooooooo!”

The temptation to go up there and kick the girls out is increasing by the second, but you don’t. Maybe this will help mellow him out a bit, make him more manageable.  Plus, you’re pretty sure that you’d have to carve your eyes out after walking in on whatever they’re doing up behind that closed door.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes progressively more difficult to focus on your book as the burn between your thighs intensifies. It’s been almost two years since your husband was murdered, which means that it’s been a little over that since you were last intimate with someone.

Normally, and up until Sir Kylo entered your household, you were more than fine subduing your sexual desires. You haven’t once touched yourself, not that you’d really know how to anyway, and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

You cross your legs, hoping that’ll quell some of the burning, but it only makes it worse. Another half an hour passes and your hand now rests on your thigh, slowly inching down towards your soaked and quivering pussy.

Just a quick touch won’t hurt...he doesn’t have to know...

Luckily, a knock at the door brings your motions to a stop. You sigh in relief, walking over to open the door. When you do, you’re met with a bandaged bare torso, a very muscular bare torso. His skin glistens with sweat and the smell of sex radiates from his essence. 

He’s still breathing heavily as he stands in the doorway, looking down at you.

“We’re finished upstairs.” He says breathily. “I’m due for my afternoon bandage change, whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him saunter away, admiring the way his muscles stretch and tense with each stride. You’re burning up by now, both your skin and your arousal, and you wonder how you’re going to get through this next bandage change. 

When you enter the room, the musk of sex is thick in the air, humidity at a suffocating level. You try to ignore it, try not to let it get to you, but it’s just surrounding you. 

Your skin begins to glisten, brow furrowed as you focus on trying to change these bandages as quickly as possible. Kylo seems to take notice of your hurry, your sudden perspiring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks you, biting back a smirk. “You seem flustered.”

Nodding, you continue on with the bandaging.  “I’m fine, just a bit warm is all.”

Kylo hums, reaching down to grab your wrist as you reach up to re-bandage the wound on his chest. He brings your fingers up to his lips, sucking the tips into his mouth gently, tongue swiping over the pads of your digits.

You try to pull away, to leave before you do something you regret, but his hold on you is firm. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t actually want him to stop.

Oh lord, this is bad. It’s so wrong. You shouldn’t want this. He murdered your husband, the man you loved. He’s so smug and cocky and yet...it’s what you’ve been wanting this whole time, the thing you’ve tried to suppress, to not let yourself want.

But now, everything else be damned, you want this. You need this. And damnit, you’re gonna have it.

His lips release your fingertips with a lewd pop! sound, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t tried to pull away or tell me off in a minute or two. Is everything alright?”

You huff. “Just do it.”

He raises his eyebrows, sitting up a little. “Do what? What do you want me to do, little lamb?”

“You know what I want.”

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of what you want.” He smirks. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”

You cross your arms on your chest, trying to ignore the twang of guilt that shoots through you as you prepare to say the words aloud.

“Fine. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“That’s right. I knew you wanted it.” Kylo takes your hand and trails it down his muscular abdomen, stopping just above where his loincloth sits on his hips.

“Take it off.”

You’re chewing your lip numb as you reach down and undo the tie holding the garment on. Your breath hitches as you slide it off, exposing his member, which is hardening steadily.

“Instead of staring, perhaps you’d like to try touching it?” He smirks.

You shoot him a glare. “Stop talking, for once in your life, please spare my ears the sound of your constant squabble.”

Kylo chuckles, putting his hands behind his head.

Your hand wraps around the base of his length, and he grunts softly. It’s your turn to wear a smirk.

“Oh, do you like that, Sir Kylo?”

He huffs. “Every man likes their cock being touched. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

You squeeze his shaft, drawing a deep grunt from his lips and small buck of his hips. He looks away, jaw clenched in an attempt to prevent any further noises. 

This fact only makes you more determined, hand pumping his cock with more vigor, alternating between different paces and pressures to really drive him crazy.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, drinking in the sight of him trying his absolute hardest not to react to the touches that so obviously arouse him. You tease him even more, using your fingers to touch certain parts of his length. 

Well, it’s fun for the few minutes it lasts, but suddenly, you find yourself in his position, laid back on the cot. He’s on top of you, now, pushing the skirts of your dress up, fingers yanking the laces on your bodice.

He quickly pulls it off, followed by your skirts, leaving you in only your mamillare and your loincloth. His eyes roam your newly exposed skin for a moment before his hand slips down between your thighs, fingers pressing up against the fabric.

“I knew it. Were you listening, little lamb? Were you listening to me fuck those whores and wishing it was you?”

Your breath hitches. “Well, it was sort of hard not to listen when the girls were screaming.”

His fingers wrap around the waist tie, pulling them down to fully expose your wet heat. He smirks, rubbing around until he finds that one spot that has your back arching and a gasp escaping your lips.

Before he can even say anything, you reiterate his words in a mocking tone. “Every woman likes being touched there. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

He huffs, rubbing you harder.

“Tell me how wet you got when you heard me fucking those whores. Tell me that you wanted a turn on my cock, wondered how good I’d feel inside you.”

“N-No.” You say, a stern expression on your face. “I’ll never say that to you.”

His jaw clenches as he bends down, lips next to your ear. “You'll be screaming it once I’m done with you.”

Your eyes widen when his fingers slowly press up into your entrance. 

“Kylo...” You’ve never been touched in this way before. It’s...different, and not necessarily unpleasant.

He sees your hesitation. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

And you did.

His digits begin moving in and out of you, curling up occasionally to stimulate a certain tender spot inside you. You’re biting down on your lip, surely hard enough to break the skin, trying your darndest not to give him the privilege of hearing your noises.

As you did to him, seeing you suppress your noises only spurs him on more, movements becoming quicker, swifter. Your orgasm draws closer with each skilled stroke, but just before you reach your peak, he pulls out.

You thought you wanted to hit him before; now, you kind of want to pop some of his abdomen stitches. 

“Why did you do that?”

He laughs devilishly, reaching down to pump his cock, slicking it with the juices of your arousal. “You didn’t think I’d actually let you get off that easily, did you?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping...”

You’re brought to silence when he crawls on top of you, trapping you beneath his massive form. His mushroom head swirls around your entrance, collecting some of your slick before pressing it inside of you.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had anyone, and you don’t think you’ve ever had someone of his size before, so you gasp softly as he presses forth. Soon, his entire length is seated in you, stretching and filling you to the brim.

His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he tries to remain still in order to allow you an adjustment period. Once you’ve had some time, he begins moving his hips, rolling them at a steady pace. 

“Knew you’d have a nice little cunt,” He growls, teeth baring. “So wet and tight for me, little lamb.”

You bite your numbing lip in an attempt to prevent any of the desperate moans or cries that want to escape. He’s doing something similar, jaw clenched tightly. 

Only the wet squelch and sharp snapping of skin colliding can be heard between the two of you, minus the occasional grunt or sharp inhale from either of you, which is quickly shut down almost as soon as it slips out.

Soon, you feel your climax begin to appear on the horizon, walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. He takes notice, quickly speeding his rhythm up, exhaling loudly through his flared nostrils.

He’s getting close, too, balls pulling up as his body prepares itself for orgasm. The energy between you two, as well as your physical movements, quickly turn desperate. 

“Don’t release inside me.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to.” He says, smugly.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “I see that even the throws of passion and ecstasy is still not enough to tamper your unbearable attitude.”

“There is nothing that can stop me from taking the opportunity to get a rise out of you, milady.” He smirks before his brows knit in the center of his forehead. “If you’re gonna cum, I suggest you do it s-soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut, hips attempting to lift up off the mattress, wanting him to hit that certain spot inside you. As soon as you find the right angle, a choked sob leaves your lips as you’re quickly brought and tossed over the edge.

Kylo groans softly, thrusting rapidly before pulling out at the last minute, spilling his seed all over your abdomen.

Both of you are breathless as you ride out your climaxes, basking in the peaceful bliss that washes over your body, basking in the luxury of his utter and complete silence. It was a welcome change, a much-needed reprieve from the past few weeks of dealing with him.

He eventually flops down onto the mattress beside you, grabbing and re-securing his loincloth around his hips. You’re already a bit sore from being stretched for the first time in two years.

“May I just sleep here tonight, Sir Kylo? Unless you’d like to carry me back over to my bedroom.”

The side-eye he gives you is incredibly humorous, but you contain your laughter, not wanting to add oil to the flame.

“I won’t be a bother. I will stay on this side of the cot; you’ll barely even know I’m here.”

“Are you truly incapable of walking yourself back to your bedroom after one session of fucking? Was I really that amazing that I’ve left you unable to move about the house?” He laughs.

"And suddenly, the pain of walking over to my room seems less painful than staying here and listening to your vexing squabble.”

Kylo huffs. “If you stay here for the night, you may not breach the center of the mattress. I will kick you out if you even come close to bumping into me or making any sort of physical contact.”

Mocking his words from earlier, you smirk. “I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to touch you.”

“Very funny.” He says, flatly, rolling over to face away from you. “Just stay on your fucking side of the bed.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up to braid your hair for bed before fluffing the goose-feather pillow beneath your head, settling down for the night. Soon, Sir Kylo’s obnoxious snores bounce off the walls and you put your pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the noise.

God, even his snores are arrogant.

-

The next morning, when your eyes flutter open at the first sign of light through the window, you find the sheets next to you vacant.

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed as you look around the room, ears open to listen for any noise anywhere in the house. You don’t hear anything.

Then, you see a piece of rolled up parchment on his pillow along with a small satchel. When you open the pouch, you’re shocked to see a pile of shiny coins. You unrolled the note, reading the sloppy script.

For the medical supplies and for your trouble. Here’s hoping our paths never cross again.

-Kylo

As you read the very brief and to-the-point note, you can practically hear his snide voice in your head reciting it. The cold, cocky tone of his words shone through the parchment and ink, incredibly so. You huff, tossing the note back onto the pillow before getting up to begin the day. 

Well...at least you’ll never have to see him again.

[unseelie-robynx]

Right, just to be clear this is @winterpower98 ‘s fault. That and this piece of her amazing Swap AU.

This is my take on a possible scene where Xiaotian flees from the others, having been convinced(manipulated by the Monkey King) that he’s a danger to them.

This is not cannon to Winter’s Swap AU (as of yet. Winter has plans and that gives me anxiety), it just wouldn’t get out of my brain until it got written down

________________________________

His breath cam in ragged gasps as he ran. He could hear the other demons closing in on him, their screeched and jeers growing louder as he desperately darted through alleyways.

Turns out, the Monkey King had a lot of enemies.

Enemies who weren’t brave or strong enough to actually fight Sun Wukong, but who would gladly go after his ‘son’. Especially since it was evidently well known that he had been fighting with the Monkey King and was therefor probably not under said Great Sage’s protection.

So Xiaotian ran.

He wasn’t sure where he was running to. After all, he had nowhere to go.

He couldn’t go back to Flower Fruit Mountain, couldn’t go back to Ba Mr. Tang’s, couldn’t go to Fiery Cloud Cave, couldn’t go anywhere.

Not now,

not as he was,

not until he was under control.

Until he couldn’t hurt anyone.

For a brief moment he had considered Yin and Jin, but that idea had been immediately squashed.

Was he really that selfish to drag them into his mess?

Xiaotian thought he might have remembered someone from Yellow Wind Demon’s entourage talking about a store house or safe house or something out on this side of the city. So that’s were he was headed.

A loud crash and vicious swearing had him changing direction and swerving down a different path.

A mistake as it turned out.

A dead end.

Xiaotian only had a moment to panic, spinning round, and coming face to face with a group of leering faces.

“Well, well, well, looks like we’ve caught ourselves a Monkey Kid.”

The lead demon’s teeth were yellow and jagged, and his breath reeked.

That was the only thing Xiaotian had time to process before they descended upon him.

He cried out in pain as he was kicked and clawed and thrown about.

He wanted to fight back.

Wanted to defend himself.

Wanted to hurt them like they were hurting him.

But that would make him just like Sun Wukong.

Xiaotian was dangerous.

He’d proven that.

He’d hurt those close to him, the people who had been willing to give him a chance, to look past what he was, to let him pretend to be something more.

So Xiaotian just curled up as much as he could and let the blows fall.

All of a sudden there was a scream of pain, but before he could open his eyes it had cut off.

Something wet hit his face and Xiaotian blinked, hand slowly rise to wipe the substance off as a blur tore through his tormentors.

Then there was a figure crouching down next to him, even obscured by the flickering shadows from the streetlights Xiaotian recognized him immediately.

“Are you alright Son?”

Xiaotian flinched backwards whimpering.

To his shock, the Monkey King actually pulled away slightly.

“I am truly sorry Xiaotian, this never should have happened. I had assumed those insects would know better that to lay a finger on you. I guarantee it will not happen again.”

Then the figure stepped away and made as if to leave.

“Wa…” Xiaotian couldn’t help but call out, voice immediately freezing as he registered what he’d done.

The shadowed figure paused, waiting for Xiaotian to find his voice.

“Why?” He finally whispered, barely more than a breath.

“Because you are my son. Because while you may not wish for my aid or tutelage in your life, I am still your Father, and it is still my responsibility to look out for you.”

Xiaotian blinked trying to process.

That didn’t sound right.

But…

it didn’t sound wrong either.

The Monkey king had been adamant about them being family, hadn’t he? But, more importantly, something stuck out to Xiaotian.

“Tutelage?”

“For m… your powers. I can only imagine the trouble unlocking that much strength all at once is causing you. I had hoped to help ease you into them gradually, so you could learn control. And with you… choosing, to live with Macaque instead, I had assumed he would take over and teach you that control in my stead. It seems I was... mistaken.”

“I… you could… help me control them?”

It was a bad idea.

Scratch that.

It was an absolutely terrible idea.

Xiaotian knew that.

He also knew that there was no one else he could go to.

The only other person who might have been able to help was Macaque, but after everything he’d done…

Sun Wukong was his only option.

 Xiaotian told himself that it was temporary.

He was just using the Monkey King to get a handle on these powers.

Then he would be able to leave and go back home to the others, hopefully with information on the Monkey King they could use to defeat him.

 “Only with your permission. You weren’t to keen on having me around earlier, Xiaotian.”

The Monkey King’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. Something prickled at the back of his mind. Something Sun Wukong was saying was off, (his name, how did he know his name?) but Xiaotian labeled it as nerves, and took a deep breath, pressing forward.

“S… so, if… if I asked you to… you would teach me?”

“If you asked.” The response was almost a hum.

“Th… then,” Another deep breath.

Remember why you’re doing this.

For Mei.

For Baba Tang.

For Red.

“Wou… would you please teach me. Father?”

 _________________________________________________

Sun Wukong hummed contentedly to himself. Everything was going according to plan. It had taken orchestrating several incidents, but his son had left the mountain, believing himself to be a danger to those around him.

Then the demons he had sent after him had worn him down, night after night, until it was time for him to swoop in and deal with the filth.

And now Xiaotian was home here with him, having asked to be brought back.

Oh, Wukong was aware that the boy thought he was using the Monkey King, and he was more than happy to feed into that. After all, the more secure Xiaotian felt, the more his guard would slip and the more Wukong could work on fixing up his boy.

He knew Liu Er and that girl would be looking for Xiaotian, so it was best to keep a low profile for now, possibly change locations a few times, for training purposes of course.

He was going to take his time with this.

As an immortal he could afford to, after all.

He had spent 300 years trapped because he had acted hastily before, this time he would be patient.

Once he had molded Xiaotian into a proper son (perhaps even a prince, a successor) then he could set his sights on retrieving his beloved.

Maybe even that girl the two of them seemed so fond off, Xiaotian might enjoy having a sister after all and Liu Er was certainly attached.

Sun Wukong couldn’t help the grin that slip over his face, he did so love when all the pieces came together exactly as he wanted them to.

[wiener-soldiers]

heal my soul with your lips - tommy shelby

request: “idea: tommy with a singer or just someone that's musically talented” from anon

summary: a melodic voice helped him through the depths of hell once. the same melodic voice finds him once more or tommy shelby recognizes the sweet voice of nurse that sung to the soldiers in france in a jazz club in london.

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

words: 3.9k

warnings: some themes of ptsd (it’s subtle), jealous tommy!

a/n: based off this head cannon. also, the song i used was “through the valley” by shawn james and IK it’s not period accurate; the song just fits the show so well i couldn’t not use it. also also, ik made the name of the club an awful combination of french and english. i speak french so ik it’s awful, but it’s intentional.

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Tommy Shelby heard you before he met you.

He was in a field hospital in God-knows where. Somewhere in France, obviously, but he didn’t remember where exactly. They were ordered to keep pushing forward, but with his days underground and his endless tunnelling, it was impossible to know how much ground they had covered.

As it turns out, he was closer to the enemy lines than he realized and a brief but bloody squabble in a tunnel under the gunfire left him with a stab wound in his leg.

He practically dragged himself to a field hospital before plopping himself on the nearest empty cot. His condition wasn’t terrible, a nurse had told him, as the knife had missed a major blood vessel. But the prospect of living another day didn’t excite Tommy, it was the promise that he would probably be one of the later patients to be treated and he could rest in an actual cot instead of the cold, wet ground, even for a few hours.

He laid in the bed, trying not to aggravate his wound further, and slowly shut his eyes. Strangely, he felt tranquil. Yes, he could hear the screams of soldiers, the cries of anguish, the gunfire and the shells dropping, but he felt at peace. Laying undisturbed at the Somme was a win for him.

Suddenly, he hears a voice cut through the violent sounds that filled the ear. It  was hauntingly beautiful, so much so that Tommy wondered if that the nurse who had spoken to him at first had been wrong and he was on the brink of death.

But the voice persisted. Soft. Unrelenting. Beautiful. He assumed that the woman singing was further within the hospital, closer to the more severe patients. The cries and screams of the men seemed to stop and even the battlefield seemed to quiet. It’s like everyone took breath to hear her voice, Allies and Central powers alike.

The juxtaposition between beauty and darkness was almost too much for Tommy as he felt his chest start to squeeze. He suddenly felt nostalgic for home, for his family, for his brothers. Instead, he was fighting in a war that wasn’t his.

“Sergeant Major Shelby,” a voice calls. It’s a new nurse this time and she looks as exhausted as he is. He notices the tray she’s carrying and how it’s full of medical equipment. He sighs; it was time to get his stitches and his moment of tranquility was now over.

---

Years later, he and his brothers are walking through the streets of London like the own the city. It was comical, really. Tommy had just started a war with Darby Sabini, one of the most influential men in London, and he had the confidence of a man who had just killed a hundred men single-handedly.

The Shelby brothers hopped from club to club, drinking in the lavish London lifestyle which paled in comparison to the more humble pubs back in Birmingham. Though his brothers couldn’t help but try their hands at some snow (and even something stronger), Tommy kept his distant, trying to stay aware.

Eventually, their energy began to die down and the brother stumbled into their final club for the evening. It was quieter than the others, Tommy notices, but perhaps it’s because the night was getting quite late.

The club was painted a deep red with gold decor to compliment, but what stuck out to him was the rest of the decorations: military medals, entire walls lined with them. Batered Union Jacks hung from door archways, ones that looked like they had been brought back from France. Finally, a wall full of photographs of men in their uniforms. Veterans, Tommy realized. The one’s that didn’t make it home, he noticed, as their birth and death years were on display. He then notices the vases filled with poppies on nearly every table and every spare ledge.

And then a voice.

“I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

and I fear no evil because I’m blind to it all.”

It feels as if the air from Tommy’s lungs had been sucked out. It was the same voice from the Somme. It was louder now and he could hear it more clearly...it was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“And my mind and my gun, they comfort me,

because I know I’ll kill my enemies when they come.”

His chest starts to squeeze again, just like it did when he was on that cot in the cramped field hospital. He froze, seemingly transported back to the warfront. His brothers paid him no mind however, as they stumbled to the bar to order a drink.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I’ll dwell on this Earth forevermore.”

“You served?” a voice calls to him. It’s a man who’s slumped in a chair, staring at the medals on the wall in melancholy.

“Yes,” Tommy answers curtly.

“You have that look about you,” the drunken man says. “All soldiers get that look when she sings that song.”

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.”

“You see a lot of soldiers here, then?” Tommy asks the man.

He laughs, shaking his head sadly. He lifts he glass up to Tommy and says candidly, “Brother, I am one. This is where the soldiers with the Flanders Blues come. Too violent to fit back into normal life, too tired to fight another war aside from the one in our own heads.”

“But I can’t walk on the path of the right

because I’m a wrong.”

Tommy finally looks at the direction of the singing and locks eyes with you. You’re standing on a small stage at the end of the club, swaying to the haunting jazz tune of the piano. Behind you was a large Union Jack, soot stained in the fabric and filled with bullet holes. You were a vision, in Tommy’s eyes. You sung beautifully into the microphone, your satin red dress accentuating the dips and curves in your body. The men in the pub, most likely soldiers according to the drunk man Tommy spoke to, stared at you in wonder and sadness. You seemed to be an enigmatic cure for their sorrows. You sung of tragedy and sadness, but you seemed to be the light guiding them through the darkness. Tommy fell into your trance as quickly as the other men.

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.

But I know when I die,

my soul is damned.”

You held your final note as the pianist hit the final key and the crowd clapped in muted and bittersweet cheer. You still smiled, understanding that a large reaction wasn’t appropriate especially given the men in the room knew that death was nothing glorious. A few men walked up to you, sincerely thanking you through their unshed tears before leaving the club to return to their families. You conversed with the pianist as you sipped a glass of water when you noticed that his expression began to falter.

“Mr. Shelby,” the pianist stutered out, looking over your shoulder at someone behind you.

You turned to look behind you and noticed the man who had caught your stare approaching. His face was hardened and his aura was dark and dangerous, but you saw through it immediately. He was no different from the veterans who flocked to the pub every night.

“Evening,” Mr. Shelby replied. “You know who I am?” he asks, voice neutral but laced in curiosity. He had just come to London, even he was slightly surprised about his reach.

The pianist nods, “My cousin works in one of your factories, sir.”

Mr. Shelby curtly nods before saying, “You wouldn’t mind if I spoke to the lady then, would you?”

“Of course, good evening to you both,” he says respectfully before turning to leave.

“Mr. Shelby then, is it?” you say without the intimidation in your voice. You’ve been through and seen a lot in France and you know how the men acted when no one was watching when they returned home. It was going to take a lot for you to feel intimidated. “What can I help you with?”

“You were a nurse, weren’t you? You were at the Somme,” he says, though it didn’t seem like a question.

Your eyes widen, taken aback slightly by his forwardness and his accurate description of your time as a nurse on the front. “I was. Have we met?”

Tommy shakes his head no. “I was getting stitches in a field hospital when I heard your voice,” he explains.

You laugh lightly, though it feels strained. Tommy understands why. “The men find it easier to take the pain if I sing to them.”

“Is that why you sing here? In front of all these broken soldiers?” he asks. You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or curious. It was hard to read men like him, despite the practice you had every day.

You decide to answer honestly, hoping that it would allow you to see the man he was on the inside. “I was too hot-headed to stay a nurse after the war, but I still wanted to help because I knew most of the men were as broken, if not more, once the returned home than they were in France. So, here I am. The singing seemed to help them in France, why not let it help them here as well?” you say softly, still bravely staring at his face. You watch his facade crack, just a little.

“You think I’m like the rest of them, then? A soldier too tired to fight another war except for the one in his own head?” he asks, testing her.

You don’t falter and reach forward to flick his collar where blood had spattered from his fight in Sabini’s club. “I think you died back there. In France, I mean. So, you keep finding and fighting new wars to distract yourself from the one goin’ on in your head.”

You worry that your candor is too much for him, but Tommy stares at you in what you could only call as affectionately.

“Was this place always a pub for soldiers, then?” Tommy asks, hearing himself become more comfortable.

You laugh, eyes crinkling slightly, and Tommy finds the sound as addicting as your voice. “You’re definitely new around here,” you tease. “Before the war, this club was full of classist, elistist toffs who rejoiced the King. None of them faught. When the war was over, the soldiers basically drove them out with their horrific stories of France and their despise for the Crown. Turned it into the place it is today. The owner’s son served and he was more than happy for the change.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“So many questions, Mr. Shelby,” you continue to tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

“I find you very intriguing,” he remplies simply, pulling out a cigarette.

“You don’t even know my name,” you point out.

The corner of his lip quirks upwards and you find yourself grinning slightly at your success. “It’s Y/N. Reckon I should spare you from the pain of suspense,” you say, breaking out into a smile as you do so.

“Tommy,” he says, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it.

“Oi, Tom!” a thick Brummie accent shouts through the club. “Arthur’s piss-faced and can barely fuckin’ walk. We should go.”

Tommy sighs against your knuckles and you giggle slightly. “Your brothers?” you ask, making note of a younger man attempting to haul an older one with a moustache out of a bar stool.

“Hmm,” he nods, before taking a step back. “Can I see you again?”

“You know where I work,” you tease and he rolls his eyes in an amused manner.

“I was thinking dinner,” he says boldly and you grin.

“Come back tomorrow and ask me again,” you smirk before brushing past him and walking into the back room.

---

Tommy did come back the next night and asked again. You said yes, slightly shocked that he fufilled your request. He didn’t seem like the type of man particularly fond of taking orders, but rather the type of man who often gave them. If being around veterans every day taught you anything, it was how to read those who didn’t want to be read.

Your dinner date turned into two, then three, then weekly visits from Tommy, then weekends spent alone in your apartment, then you visiting Birmingham, then you meeting his family. Neither of you had talked about where exactly you stood in a relationship because it was seemingly obvious.

Tommy was infatuated with you and you easily returned the sentiment.

He had learned that you aren’t really from anywhere because you moved around countless times with your parents as they tried to find work. So, it wasn’t too hard to convince you to move to Birmingham to live with him after nearly a year of courting.

You had been slightly pained at the prospect of leaving your old club behind, especially since the owner was getting old and his son was involved in his own medical career to take over the business, so Tommy made a quick move to buy the club from him and began running it as one of his legitimate businesses in London.

It’s a gift, he had told you but that didn’t stop you from nearly burst into tears. That club meant a lot to you, as it was a safe haven for both you and the soldiers it serviced. Tommy had put you in charge, so you hired a few people—all veterans, most of them regulars who were eager to help keep the business alive—to manage the place while you were in Birmingham. Every few weeks, you’d make the trip to London for a few performances. Though you hired new girls to sing, the club was still filled like no other night when you were in town. You called it The Club Infirmerie, an ode to the field hospital in the Somme where Tommy had first heard you sing. More and more veterans flocked there to heal amongst the music and amonst their fellow soldiers, just as you hoped.

When you were in Birmingham, you involved yourself in business where you could. You had no problem with the kind of work Tommy was involved in, to his delight, but there was still a lot you didn’t fully understand. Polly did her best to groom you in the more complex side of business, but you still gravitated to a more manegerial role. So, Tommy put you in charge of most logistics of the factories and clubs he owned. Your favourite establishment, however, was The Garrison.

“Look’s a little like the Inifirmerie, Tommy,” you teased him as he showed you around The Garrison for the first time, arm slung around your shoulders as you gazed at the decor of the pub.

“I may have gotten some design inspiration from you, darlin’,” he hummed, pressing kiss to your temple.

Like The Club Infermerie, you had set up a small stage, piano, and microphone to have performers in The Garrison. When you were doing this, Tommy opened up and explained why there had been no singing in his pub before; the pub was void of singing becauase of Grace and her betrayal. You kissed him softly, a reminder that you were different and that were staying. Tommy’s heart swelled as you found another way to slowly heal his soul with your lips.

On that particular Friday, The Garrison was more full than usual, partly because there had been word that you were to perform a set that evening. The bar was bustling as men and women of all backgrounds ordered drink after drink. You, Harry, and Arthur had a hard time keeping up, so you inlisted the help of Finn and Isaiah who had been sharing a pint with some younger Peaky’s at the end of the bar.

“Oi! Finn, ‘Saiah, c’mere!” you shout, filling another pint.

“What is it, Y/N?” Finn asks as he approached you, Isaiah in tow.

“Hop ‘round the back and take over for a bit, will ya?” you ask quickly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your work dress. “I need to prepare for my set.”

"Course,” Isaiah says kindly and agreed to help right away, though you aren’t blind to the small crush the younger boy harbored towards you, which is probably why he had been eager to help.

Finn, however, groans. The effect of being seen as a sibling to him, you suppose. “’S what hiring more people’s for, Y/N,” he complains, dragging his feet as you approach him. “Why’d I gotta do it?”

You squint your eyes playfully at Finn before saying, “I’ll let you have a glass of whiskey.”

“And you won’t let Tommy take it away?” he says skeptically.

“I won’t let Tommy take it away,” you confirm.

Finn perks back up again and pecks your cheek before shouting, “This is why I like you better than Tommy!” You laugh to yourself as you slip into the snug to change out of your work dress into a fancy, silk one. It’s one Tommy had purchased on a business trip to London because he said it reminded him of what you were wearing when you first met. The dress was long, almost a gown, but it still abandonned the old, Edwardian silhouette in favour of a more modern one. In fact, the dress was more scandoulous than most, with the neckline and back dipping deep into your chest and back and a slit in the skirt as climbing as high as your thigh. The red of the dress was deep and luxiourious, matching the walls of The Garrison.

The moment you stepped out of the snug, it’s like the crowd had parted for you and allowed you to walk through the pub interrupted until you reached the stage. It’s not the awe of your presence that drawed you to keep singing, but the calmness and tranquility that followed. Throughout your set, the peaceful daze that fell over the pub persisted. Tommy had entered The Garrison halfway through the set, having just finished business, and he fell back into your spell just as easily as everyone else. He loved that about you—how easily you could calm a rowdy crowd. It meant you could just as easily calm his thundering and monstrous soul. He leaned on the threshold of the snug, watching you sing with a content smile on his face.

When the set was over, the crowd errupted into applause. Women flocked forward and gushed to you about your performance and men stared longingly from afar. You were Tommy’s girl and they knew you weren’t to be trifled with. 

Unfortunately, someone had not gotten the message. Rather, he got the message but simply didn’t care.

Tommy noticed Finn and Isaiah behind the bar and apporached them curiously. Upon seeing his brother, Finn grinned at him.

“Whiskey, Tom?” Finn asks cheekily. He knows the answer will be yes anyway, so he starts preparing his drink.

“What’re you doin’ behind the bar?” Tommy asks, accepting the whiskey from Finn.

“Y/N asked us to help because she needed to prepare for the set,” Isaiah explains, filling up another pint.

Tommy smirks at him. “I know why you’re helping behind the bar, Isaiah,” he jokes, referring to the crush the young Blinder has on his girl, “I was asking why Finn was.”

“Can’t I just be a helping hand?”

“She offered you whiskey, didn’t she?”

Finn groans. “C’mon, Tom! Just this once? She said she wouldn’t let you take it away! It’s been ages since you let me have a glass.”

“What about that time Y/N patched you up after getting into a pub fight, eh?” Tommy notes, teasing his brother further. “Nearly had half a bottle there ‘cos you wouldn’t stop fuckin’ wailin’.”

“I was in pain,” Finn defends himself, but with no malice in his voice. He liked that he could joke around with his brother again; that was all your doing. “’S not my fault the bloke stabbed me with a rusty fuckin’ knife.”

“Sorta is, Finny boy.”

“Uh, Tommy?” Isaiah interrupts with a confused look on his face as he stares in the distance. “Is he supposed to be doing that?” he continues, nodding in your direction.

Tommy turns his head in your direction and his jaw clenches.

“I’m tellin’ ya, love, your voice? Fan-fucking-tastic. Couldn’t have captured the sound of heaven betta’ meself,” the man talking to you chuckled, placing a large hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to get flustered, “I’m really glad you enjoyed it Mr. Solo—”

“Alfie.”

Both you and Alfie turned to face Tommy who was staring at the later with more distate than you’ve ever seen.

“Ah, Tommy! Good to see you, m’friend,” Alfie cheers loudly, sticking his hand out for Tommy to shake. Tommy’s doesn’t budge.

“I see you’re getting reaquainted with Y/N,” Tommy notes bitterly. You catch Tommy’s stare and you almost laugh at how jealous he’s getting.

“What can I say, Tom? She’s a sight to see. And hear for that matter,” Alfie jokingly puts his hand on his chin inquisitivley. “I wonder what she sounds like in b—”

“Right, that’s enough,” Tommy hisses, grabbing your hand and dragging you away. He can hear Alfie’s booming laughter in the distance as he pulls you into the snug. Luckily, it’s empty.

“Tom—”

You’re interrupted by a harsh kiss to the mouth, with Tommy’s hands wrapping themselves around your waist as he backs you into the table, forcing you to sit on it.

“Well, hello love,” you giggle against his lips. “What’re you doin’, handsome?”

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Or touchin’ you,” he grumbles harshly, moving his lips to your neck.

“You’re not one to act like that in public. In front of him for that matter,” you note, letting your hands squeeze Tommy’s hair as he kisses and especially sensitive spot.

“Can’t help it,” you says against your neck and you snort.

“Yeah you can, darlin’,” you say, pulling away to look at him. “Everything alright?”

Tommy stares at you, mentally debating with himself, before saying, “That bastard was supposed to meet me today before I came here but he bailed. Came here pissed to the fucking moon ‘til I heard you sing. Turns out, he was here watching you up close while I was in my office waiting for his fuckin’ pompous ass.”

“Probably just wanted to rile you up,” you say ernestly. “Don’t let him.”

Tommy kisses you again before muttering against your lips, “If where this is going is me getting riled up, I wouldn’t be opopsed.”

You almost let out a moan, but choke it back and say, “Tom, someone’ll hear!”

Tommy pulls away, a mischevious smirk and a dark look in his eye forming. “He wants to know what you sound like, eh? Let him.”

[purplerose244]

My thoughts on Seabound!!! 🌊🌊🌊 (4/4)

Here we are! What a journey, and while perhaps this season wasn't at MoM level it was REALLY good, with great new villains/allies, great little throwbacks and an awesome story! 🤩

How to get this was very good to great? Give me a very good ending Seabound!! 💕💕

Alright, here we go!

GENERAL THOUGHTS

I genuinely got too much into this remaining four episodes and forgot to put any general thoughts 😅 So you'll see me rambling at the end, see you there 😉

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

This title really summarize my feelings so far, like, I'm seriously wondering how it will move on from now, but I do expect the outcome to be CRAZY 🤯

Aaahhhh, yep, the one in Shintaro is a fake 😅 I wonder when did the change happen? How did Kalmaar pulled that off, wow

I'M SORRY WHY ARE WE PUTTING THE TITLE SCREEN WITHOUT THE INTRO?? THAT'S A FIRST EPISODE STUFF AND IT HONESTLY SCARES ME??? It reminds me of Winds of Change too and that episode was WOW 😭😭😭

Heeeeyyy, it's youuuu... huh... *watch scribble on hand* google snake guy, huh... Glucose... yep, good old Glutine and everything 😅

Are we having a "I may have made a mistake being evil" with this guy?

Jay: ah, Prime Empire! I was in that game you know! I fought for my life and the ones of all of Ninjago and I've seen my best friends and the love of my life die before my eyes... good times 🙂

Jay and Nya having fun at DDR has to be one of my favorite thing, they are so in sync and so lovable ❤💙❤💙

DID THEY ACTUALLY PUT THE JAYA SHIP NAME INTO THE SHOW??? OMG GUYS THE FANDOM IS TAKING OVER THE SHOW AT LAST!!! 🤯🤯🤯 The electric Jaya, heeeyy, niiicee 😎😎😎

HOW CUTE CAN YOU BE

MY SHIP 💙❤💙❤ They even gave each other high gives... this is neat, and it means something awful will happen right 🙂

Commissioner: he's saying something about a giant snake... and the end of the world... didn't we already have something like that?

Okay yep, he did the trick while fighting Nya, dang Kalmaar is sneaky! Not too shabby... but I gotta say, the summoning of the Great Devourer was a lot more dramatic 🤣🤣 Props to the serpentine, still my favorite snakes 💪💪

Wojira seems to be a little smaller than the Devourer maybe? His head way bigger than the bounty, while hers is not that massive even in comparison with Kalmaar

I might be wrong but at first glance, I stand by my opinion and by the superiority of the OG giant snake 🤷‍♀️

Yep Glutine guy did have a change of heart, better late than never 🤷‍♀️

You're telling me that Jay doesn't do engineering anymore, okay... HOW IS KAI A BETTER SOLUTION??? 🤣🤣🤣 Lol look at the messy brothers, love Lloyd and Kai so much I miss them interact 💚❤💚❤

Thank you Kelly for the alert 😗

It makes me wonder if they actually do have simulations of evacuations often, it would be pretty smart considering the city 🤷‍♀️

OKINO IS THERE HI DUDE!!! 😍 I hope he's doing great! 🥰🥰

Gail Gossip! Been a while!

WOW, this is going Deluge like, my first Spinjitzu Master! 😱 How... how do we go with three episodes from here? Like, I'm guessing Nya will have to do what Nyad did before her (which TERRIFIES me), so are they going to struggle trying to find another way? IDK BUT I'M IN LET'S GO!! 🤯

ASSAULT ON NINJAGO CITY

Alright, pretty straightforward title, let's see what we got here!

Tourists?... that actually makes sense, I mean, I would want to visit all the places where history was made on this island 😍 Aww nice to see they remember the battle against Garmy of Hunted, also that it is known that Jay was the one who faced Unagami 👍👍

DARETH!!! 🤎🤎🤎

Where have you been you knucklehead, I've missed you! 💕 I think I've last seen him in a commercial from the Fire Chapter?

This is a terrible guide 😵 Not knowing the brown ninja? Owner of the dojo the Green Ninja had trained in? Brief commander of the Stone Army? Master of makeup and puffy potstickers? Unforgivable, someone fire this woman ASAP 😡😡

LOOK AT DARETH TAKING CHARGE!!! 🤩 He's right, he should get involved every once in a while, come on guys!

Ah okay good, I'm not the only one struggling with that google snake name 😂

Yay Bentho is fully integrated with the team! He is a great addiction, like, I know he'll probably take the throne at the end or something but I do hope we'll need his help again in the future! 💙

Sometimes I forget how much I love Kai and Zane interacting 🤣 The brainiac and the airhead 🤍❤🤍❤

Oh right, Cole came back from Shintaro! So... now in this extremely secret city there is a fake amulet hanging into a highly secured place... how is it always Shintaro the keeper of flukes? 😂😂

A bath as a boat but it has a whole 😂😂 I love this show's randomness

What ears are they supposed to cover 😅

I LOVE THIS ATMOSPHERE!!! 😍😍😍 Between the gray sky of storm and the sea underneath, this is the perfect scenario for Wojira and it's not even forced! I love how they are handling backgrounds for Ninjago recently, I really hope it gets as good as in the finale of Prime Empire 💙💙💙

AAAAAAHHHHHhhhhh okay for a moment I was scared Wojira was going to eat Jay 😅 After The Island this is already the second time Bluebell risks it... STOP

WHY THE CLIFFHANGER!?!?

NUUUUU WHAT NOW??? 😱😱😱 We have two more episodes, how is this going to end? I DON'T KNOW AND I REALLY WANT TO PLEASE GIVE ME A GOOD FINALE SEABOUND!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

NYAD

I AM SCARED FOR MY WATER LILY OKAY

Daaaang she can just float on that? She got super good at controlling water! Now I want her and Kai just randomly flying around with their powers 😂😂 Kai got missiles in his hands come on 🔥🔥🔥

JAY CAN YOU LET ME WORRY ABOUT YOU GUYS ONE AT THE TIME??? 😱

What would Kai do? WHAT WOULD KAI DO?? DID YOU DECIDE YOU WANT TO DIE JAY WHY WOULD YOU THINK OF HIM??? ... although technically Kai is the only one with Jay who didn't straight up die before coming back to life in a dramatic moment... huh... Kai might be the most reasonable choice after all 😅

We grew up from Ninja never quit to NINJA AREN'T IDIOTS AND KNOW WHEN TO GET THE HECK OUT 😎😎 Even our motto got a character development 💪

JAY NOOOOOOOO 😱😱😱😱

BENTHO YAAAAAAASSSS 🥳🥳🥳🥳 Did I ever say that I love shark boy? BECAUSE I FREAKING DO!! 💙

Master prankster Wu once again, take that empty ship Calamari head 😎 Although the poor bounty doesn't deserve to get destroyed as many times as it did until now, it's my favorite ship... pun intended 😜

Ah more ninjajan, wait a moment

"Auto Pilot". Fair enough, although I was hoping for a "psych" or something 😂😂

NO WAIT NO WHAT THE HECK!!! I THOUGHT JAY GOT SAVED HE INHALED WATER??!? BLUEBELL NOOOO!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

But Cole running to his best friend immediately? HECK yes 🖤💙🖤💙

NYA CARRYING HER BOYFRIEND BRIDAL STYLE THIS IS THE RIGHTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN!!! ❤💙❤💙❤💙❤💙 Gosh this season gave me amazing Jaya moments, I've been fed 👌👌

Okay Lloyd pacing back and forth? Kai already mad at their enemies? All the guys eager to help Jay? MY FAVORITE NINJA FAMILY BABY!!! 😎😎

I NEED A MOMENT 😭

Oh... oh gosh I knew Nya doing the Nyad thing was meant to happen, but this way? My heart is melting already 😭

I remember a post that said that Jay told Nya that he loves her many times, while she never did. Tommy reponded that she lets her actions speak... boy do I see it now, I see all of her love 😢😢

I never felt such conflicting emotions for a villain like I do for Kalmaar, like, he caused so much pain to Nya... but he is voiced by Giles... but he is the reason Jay is hurt... but that startle gag 😂😂😂

Okay this? Is adorable?

What the HECK? The police in this city is generally not very helpful, but the Commissioner is very wholesome 💜

Nyaaaaaaa 😭😭😭😭 I didn't think it was possible to love her even more, she was ignored for so long during the show, but now we finally see all of her. She is an amazing warrior, a selfless person, and a real hero 💪💪 And coming from such a mature girl that doesn't like to act irrationally, this means so much more

Jaya grew up so much, it went through some very questionable phases yes, but what they have here? It's the result of all they had lived together 💙❤💙❤

I have chills, this is amazing so far, I'm legit scared of going further 😱

SHE SAID IT!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Okay this moment, everything, EVERYTHING, is absolutely marvelous. Nya said I love you without a voice, alone, showing again that she values the actions more, but still her feelings are 100% truthful. Then the transformation (THERE IT IS HER BEAUTIFUL WATER FORM 😍😍😍), Jay getting saved, the realization of what she just did from everyone... DANG IT IT'S ALL BEAUTIFUL HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO THINK OF THIS SCENE???

*slow clap for Bragi, Tommy, and the Ninjago crew*

Jay and water Nya with their hands together gives me big The Form of Water vibes... LOVE THAT MOVIE WHO'S READY FOR AN AU??

Jay wants to help her, I had no doubt 💙 They always help each other in these BOUNDs seasons 😍😍😍

Kalmaar: where are the ninja??

Commissioner: I don't know, they are ninja!

FINAL BATTLE INCOMING AAAAHHH I HOPE THIS WILL HAVE A GOOD ENDING OMG BRING IT!!! 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

THE TURN OF THE TIDE

Oh, curious title? It feels a little vague, I don't really know what it could be

YES GIRL GO GET HIS CALAMARI BUTT HECK YES!!! Just how cool can you be for walking slowly while the attacks go straight through you? 😂

Hey Nya still recognizes Jay! 😃😃

HEY NYA GOT VAPORIZED WTH 😱😱 It's too early, I don't believe that's it!

WHOA JAY WENT BERSERK JUST NOW!! I don't think I've seen this before, this is the coolest thing! 💙💙💙 I just love when he shows how strong he is, you can be a comic relief AND kick butts 😎

FIGHTING ANIMATIONS MAN I LOVE THESE SCENES!! 😍😍😍

What the- was... was that a cameo of the lightning chicken? Ninjago what the HECK I love your randomness 😂😂

BENTHOMAAR TAGS IN!!! Showing off why he is best boy of the season 💙 These fightings are very cool but I can't help imagining Wojira just chilling while there are midgets getting very angry at each other onto her head 🤣🤣🤣

WHOA, CALAMARI BITE! Kalmaar got the Pythor treatment... might change color by next season if he returns 😅

(Please return I loved having Giles' voice in this season 💙💙💙)

NYA IS A DRAGON!!! I REPEAT NYA IS A DRAGON!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍 I was wondering where the dragon moment was, this is Ninjago after all 🤷‍♀️

Head empty, just Jay smiling softy at Nya because he loves her 💙💙💙

IT'S RAINING NYA, HALLELUIA IT'S RAINING NYA, HEYE!! ☔☔☔ This fight is MASSIVE! We had finales with big creatures before but now one of the ninja is big enough to face them and that's 🤯

NYA DID IT!!! 🤩🤩🤩 ... now onto the angst that I KNOW it's coming

Kai being unbelieving is tragic, and Jay's "don't leave me" broke my heart. Please end this misery, where is the deus ex machina that solves everything?

Wait she left?

...

WAIT SHE ACTUALLY LEFT??? WHAT THE HECK THEY AREN'T ENDING IT LIKE THIS

...

OH MY GOSH

ARE THEY?!?

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯

Omg the grief in this is beautiful, nice to see Jay and Maya so close to each other! Also Kai leaning onto his mom while Cole is comforting his best best friend? Amazing, they really do these scenes great 👌

EVERYONE SHOWED UP I LOVE THIS CITY SO MUCH 😭😭😭 Aww Ed and Edna, wasn't this such a sad situation I would be so much happier to see you guys 🥺

Master Wu even mentioned that she built Samurai X, you really want to make me cry now do you? 🥺🥺

MAYA AND RAY 😢😢😢😢😢😢

Omg look at Cole being there for his best friend, he is amazing 🖤💙🖤💙

I have such Rebooted vibes from this... is it hopeful? That Nya comes back like Zane? She's no nindroid but still... oh my gosh they got her symbol on the vase I just noticed, I need more tissues 😭😭

"In loving memory of Kirby Morrow". Always in our hearts 🖤🖤🖤

...

Wow

WOW

THEY ACTUALLY DID IT I NEED ANOTHER MOMENT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 WHAT IN THE WORLD THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHANGE THEY DID IN A WHILE!!!

AND NOW WHAT??? 🤯🤯🤯

FINAL THOUGHTS

I'm speechless... like that's true, have A LOT to write over here 😅

This type of plot twist reminds me of our early seasons. Zane sacrificing himself, Garmadon giving up his life, those moments that made me so curious and excited about the following. I have no idea what will be the outcome for this, but I can't wait to find out

With that out of the way, AMAZING SEASON 😍😍😍 I think this finale beats MoM's, just because it was really unexpected and opens up a SEA of possibilities... yeah too soon 😭

I'm still shaken, my world, they did something HUGE and I do hope it will be a good shake to the entire Ninjago plotline. Nya is "gone", we still don't know about the person behind all that vengestone, we haven't heard from Garmy in forever, there are so many good ideas out there now that they've set the ground for more 🤩🤩

Voice acting was *chef's kiss*, not only for the villain which I already stressed enough about, I think Kelly reached a new level of emotional intimacy with Nya and I'm so happy she showed her skills 💜💜

Animation is TOP, there's little to no point into saying anything else since they showed it very clearly in the latest season ☺

This was the emotional, witty and engaging writing I was looking for! Good jokes, meaningful dialogues, emotional scenes, everything was really good and I'm gonna rewatch some scenes especially for that 😍

It turned out having Maya and Ray back was kind of a distraction to fool us all 😅😅 Well played actually, and it was very cool seeing them again in any case 🙋‍♀️

And now? Jay lost his love, I have no idea if the show will work on him getting over her or hold onto her memory (thinking of Jay probably the latter, although I do think that handling the first would be an interesting idea). KAI LOST HIS SISTER 😢😢😢 I have no doubt he's gonna beat himself up for it, like he did when Zane was gone too. Everyone lost their friend, she had become such a vital part of the team and now she is not here anymore it will be hard...

They are back with the four plus one green savior formation, I sincerely don't know how I feel about that 😅 I'm always happy when we get the OGs, but this is about going on without Nya... maybe Skylor will be called? Or Pixal will be more active? That could be interesting to see, who knows 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Gosh, how are they going to handle the next season? It will have to give A LOT of answers to the millions questions we all have right now. Man I can't wait, it could be anything!!! This is a Ninjago revolution!

But if I have to mention a little complain, and I'm a fangirl so I absolutely have to, Kai didn't show much of a reaction to Nya's "departure". Okay, she didn't straight up die like in Skybound (I'm gonna fear all BOUND seasons from now on 😱), but he's her brother and he loves deeply his family. Either we're gonna see him go all out next season, or the writers really did only focus on Jaya. A tiny bit salty... but you got me a fantastic finale so I'll move on 👍

Outstanding, I'm blown away. Whenever I think I'm used to this show they do stuff like this. I'm so glad and sad you guys 😅 But mostly happy that despite everything I still get very strong emotions while I watch this long time favorite show of mine 💜💜💜

What else can I say at this point? ONTO NEXT SEASON!!! 🤩🤩🤩

Thank you for reading me freaking out over LEGO spinning ninja as always! It helps me calm down but this time it might be harder thant the others... *sobs*

I need to lay down and process all of this, I'll be on my way 😂😂 BYE!!! 💜

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Agents of the Golden Throne

It took me longer than I wanted to write this, but here’s the follow up to the current story thread.  We see more of the Inquisition and their methods, we have what I sincerely hope to be a heartwarming moment, we touch on the subject of xenophilia, and, of course, we get to see the Grey Knights bust heads.  I hope you enjoy the story, and, as always, no one except Drake and his crew belong to me. 

“I carry with me an Inquisitorial Seal.  It is a small, unassuming object contained in a neat box of Pluvian obsidian.  It is a modest thing.   Relatively plain, adorned with a single motif and a simple motto.  Yet with this little object I can sign the death warrant of an entire world and consign a billion souls to oblivion.”  -Inquisitor Flast of the Ordo Malleus

“It is Mankind’s holy destiny to rule the stars, and rule them alone.”  -Lord Inquisitor Knael of the Ordo Xenos

“Do not worry: your memories will return with time.”  The deep bass voice of Lord Hector Rex cut through Vir’s headache.  He was aboard the Fury of Deimos, the heavy starship that served as the headquarters of Rex and the Grey Knights.  He looked around him, taking note of the gloomy gothic architecture and the massive cathedral windows of the hangar bay.  A cadre of humans stood around him; individuals that he was sure he knew but couldn’t really remember.  His memories were in the back of his mind, flitting things that he tried in vain to claw back to the forefront of his brain.  He remembered being on some strange planet… something that had to do with the color red.  There was some sort of white orb, too.  Nothing else besides that.  He couldn’t recall the interior of the Fury of Deimos, something Rex unabashedly told him they permanently deleted.  No one save the most powerful and dedicated servants of the Ordo Malleus could come aboard a starship of the Grey Knights and still leave with their memories.  It was explained to him as a simple security measure, but it still irked him.  He could, though, remember the probing, the strange devices… the pain.  It was the singular most painful experience he had ever gone through, and that was saying a lot.  Ripping through someone’s mind to make sure their soul was untainted did a number on the pain receptors of nerves, not to mention the utter wrongness of such an act.  

But, apart from the pain and the memories of the elderly Inquisitor guiding him through his recovery, he could remember nothing except brief hints; shadows of what he once was.  Then there were his companions, people who he was certain he should know but didn’t.  There was a brown haired, easy-going man dressed in a black and yellow jumpsuit.  It was something he would have found ridiculous except for the sense of respect he felt for the individual; that particular memory ran deep.  

Looking rather confused was a man with close cut hair, wearing what Vir vaguely remembered as a combat armor bodysuit.  Faint memories of competence, fighting side by side, something in common…  This man was some sort of friend.  Trustworthy.  

The third perplexed individual was wearing high boots and a leather jacket vest, similar to his own.  This one Vir held slightly in awe, somewhat like the first man.  He remembered hearing stories about this one, but, frustratingly, couldn’t remember.  

The last had a black coat and boots matching his equally black hair.  Blue eyes roved suspiciously around the hangar, looking with untrust at the Inquisitor and the other Imperials.  A series of conflicting feelings rose from the sight of this man: good advice, utter hilarity, slight insanity, and a disturbing amount of large explosions.  What the hell…?

“How soon will our memories recover?” asked the black coated man.  Rex scratched his head.  Vir could tell he was frowning behind his mask.  

“This is not an exact science.  I would estimate a day, perhaps two, for all of your memories to fully come back to you.  It could be as little as an hour, or, in the most extreme, as much as a week.”  Rex noticed the alarmed looks being cast his way.  “Though that is unlikely.  I can give you my utmost assurance that all of your memories, except for the ones of the halls of this ship, will return.”  Another man entered the room, this one dressed in a distinctly Imperial style, with an elaborate, overly-embroidered greatcoat and cap.  Vir remembered him… from somewhere.  He thought this man had been on his ship before.  His ship… what was his ship called?  Something fierce, he hoped.  The man bowed to Rex and spoke in a worried, but polite tone.

“Greetings, Lord Inquisitor.”  

“Greetings, Commissar Cain.”  All four of the non-Imperials in the hangar looked up sharply.  Cain.  They remembered him better with a name to go with a face.  “I trust your stay in the hangar has been satisfactory?” inquired Rex.  

“It has.”  Ah, yes.  Cain stayed here because he didn’t want to get mind wiped.  And he didn’t touch the orb, like we did.  That’s why we’re here!  The orb!  Cain cleared his throat.  “With all due respect, Lord Inquisitor, and I do recognize that this is your area of expertise, but was it necessary to completely mind-wipe them?”  Rex cocked his head curiously.

“We did not mind-wipe them.  Unfortunately, it is a side effect of the process that makes sure they are untainted.  If we could avoid it, we would, but there is simply no other way.”  Cain nodded.  

“Very well.  I thank you for your explanation, Lord Inquisitor.”  He glanced at the still confused four mind-wipe victims.  “May I take them back to their ships?”  

“You may,” replied Rex with a nodd.  He made a curious symbol on his breast, folding his thumbs together and outstretching his palms.  “May the Emperor guide you, Commissar Cain.”  Cain returned the gesture and bowed. 

“And you as well, Lord Inquisitor Rex.”  He gently guided the four to a shuttle.  “Come now.  We need to get you back where you belong.”

Rex watched them board the shuttle and take off.  They were strong of mind and soul, those ones.  That must have been why the Prognosticators of the Grey Knights had told him not to interfere with their business.  He had been annoyed that xenos had seen the Knights, but it was inevitable, he supposed.  After all, the Sons of Titan had teamed up with the enigmatic Aeldari to fight the daemons of Chaos when necessary.  More xenos, especially ones deemed necessary to the future by the seers of the Grey Knights, couldn’t hurt too badly, he supposed.  There were worse enemies out there.  He did, however, chafe that those pesky GA delegates were still around.  He had pulled rank and ordered the Knights not to destroy them.  That would cause too much of a political headache.  Though, he did discreetly mind-wipe them with his powers, and pull the orbital defenses of the Rundi homeworld from the chairwoman’s mind; information he had subsequently turned over to Inquisitor Vail.  They wouldn’t ever remember meeting him.  A good thing, all things considered.  They had neither the training nor stomach for fighting demons.  He spun on his heel and strode into the hall of the Deimos.  There was work to be done.

Aboard the shuttle

The shuttle had roved from ship to ship, dropping off passengers that barely remembered where they were going.  The yellow-shirted man, who had introduced himself as Kirk (some more slight memories came from that realization… something about a TV show?) was left on a ship called the Enterprise (a good name.  Adam hoped his ship was named something just as good.)  The First Mate, a tall thin man with strange pointed ears, had sighed as if this were a regular occurrence and led Kirk deeper into the ship.  

The short haired man was left aboard the Normandy (memories of beaches, and machine guns, and mass death in a war a long time ago.)  A raven haired woman wearing a bodysuit that left little to the imagination greeted them.  

“Ah, Commander.  Welcome back.  I trust everything went satisfactory?” she asked.  The other man stared at her.  

“You have a strange accent,” he said at last.  “Where are you from?”  The woman, who Vir presumed to be the First Officer of this ship, merely cocked an eyebrow.  Cain rolled his eyes and stepped in.  

“Ms. Lawson, the Inquisition performed an intensive interrogation on Commander Shepard, the side effects of which include the temporary, and I stress temporary, loss of memory.”

“He has no idea who I am.  Or anyone else,” stated Lawson bluntly.  Cain nodded and pushed Shepard from the shuttle.  

“Off you go Commander.  Hope the doctors don’t take you apart.”  The shuttle ramp closed, veiling the sight of a very confused Shepard and very exasperated Lawson.  It took off, slipping through the void.  The silver shape of a large, rectangular ship flitted through the viewport.  Vir looked out in wonder.  This ship… this one’s mine.  What is it called…?  Harbinger?  Harbinger sounds right… but… no…

The shuttle touched down in a large, open hangar.  A shorter, brown haired woman stood at attention there, waiting.  The ramp came down with a heavy thunk, and Vir and Cain exited.  

“This is our stop,” said Cain.  “Will you two be alright?” he asked the shuttle’s other two occupants.  The black coated man nodded jerkily, still staring into space.  

“What?  Oh.  Yes.  Don’t worry about us.  Commissar Cain.  Admiral Vir.”  He rattled off their unfamiliar names, the taste of the words strange on his tongue.  As the shuttle took off once more, the woman approached Vir and Cain.  

“Admiral,” she said with a crisp salute.  Vir looked her over, trying desperately to remember who she was.  Obviously some sort of ship’s officer.  

“Ah… yes,” he stalled, trying to buy time for his memories to return.  “Uh…”  The woman stared at him.  

“Are you… alright, Admiral?” she asked, perplexed.  Before he could do anything to embarrass himself, Cain stepped in.  

“Ah, Simone.”  Simone!  Yes!  Now he had a name to go with a face.  Simone was his… assistant?  Maybe?  “As you know,” continued Cain, “Admiral Vir was interrogated by the Inquisition.  The side effects of which include temporary memory loss.”  Simone’s mouth set in a hard line.

“Those utter-” she stopped herself, realizing who she was talking to.  “Ah.  Yes.  Commissar.”  She turned to Vir, clearly trying to ignore that she almost criticized the most deadly and powerful organization of Cain’s home government.  “Admiral… you really don’t remember me?”  Vir shook his head a miserable ‘no’.

“No.  I don’t.  There are bits, and pieces… but not much.”  

“Well, you should probably get settled.  Go to your cabin; someplace familiar.  I’ll make sure Kril doesn’t kill you,” said Cain with a wink.  He strode off, Commissar’s greatcoat swirling.  Simone watched him leave.  

“What did they do to you…?”  muttered Simone.  “I’m your First Lieutenant, Admiral.”

“Ah hah!” came Vir’s triumphant shout.  “Yes.  Simone.  I remember you are my first lieutenant.  It’s coming back.  A bit.”  

“Alright, then.  I’ll take my leave, Admiral,” she said.  Vir shook his head, still confused.  He wandered through the hangar, somehow knowing where the exits were and where they led.  He knew his cabin was somewhere towards the front area of the ship, near the bridge, but found his feet taking him a different way.  He walked through the bowels of the ship, saluting the crew he passed with automa-like precision.  It was mechanical.  He remembered none of them, but for an unknown reason kept walking until he reached a door near the engineering area.  He instinctively stepped inside, though he did not know where it led or why he did so.  

The room was bare, with empty metal walls and a corrugated steel floor.  The walls were covered with elaborate weapons blueprints and armor designs.  In the corner, huddled over a workbench, a large figure welded something.  Flying sparks illuminated a sleek blue carapace and four arms.  Vir had no idea who this was or what sort of creature it was… but he knew it.  He trusted it.  He felt safe here.  Hearing his footsteps, the figure turned around and lifted its welding mask.  

“Adam?  You got back already?” He felt something stir inside him at her (he knew it was a her) voice.  

“I… I can’t remember anything,” he confessed.  “The Imperials interrogated me… one of the side effects was temporary memory loss.”  The blue alien stood to its full height.  

“Those bastards…  You don’t remember me?” she asked.  Vir shrugged.  

“Tell me your name.  It helps with remembering,” he replied.  She stepped forward and took his arms.  

“Sunny,” she said.  Suddenly, everything clicked.  

“Sunny,” he replied.  It was a statement.  A sentence spoken by a weary man who has finally come home.  

“You… you do remember me?” asked Sunny with concern.  

“I remember your name,” said Vir with a smile.  “Clearness.  Blue skies.  Light.  Warmth.  Happiness.  Sunny.”

“Is… is that it?  You don’t remember anything else?”  Vir stepped forward and threw his arms around her.  He felt tears go down his face as he buried it into her chest.  She drew him close, her four arms wrapped around him.  

“Yes.  I remember that I love you.”  

Aboard the Millennium Falcon

The Falcon was full to capacity.  Nearly fifty individuals were crammed inside.  Han Solo and Chewbacca were quietly flying in the cockpit.  Not a single word passed between them, for the First Mate realized his Captain wished to be alone with his thoughts.  In the small recreational spaces of the ship, sitting morosely in the chairs that controlled the dorsal and ventral guns, slouching in the hallways and resting in the cargo holds were dozens of the Apocalypse’s armsmen.  

After Thomas Drake had returned from the Fury of Deimos, he had instinctively gravitated towards Richter and Ordelphine, whom he had told his predicament.  The two had immediately and bluntly set him straight, giving him the beginnings of his memories back.  He had been lucky; most of who he had been and what he was doing returned within the span of hours, no little thanks due to his First Lieutenant.  He had been scrolling through his computer files when a note to himself had popped up… and he had a sudden epiphany.  Which was why the Falcon was currently headed to a small but busy moon in the far reaches of this galaxy known as Noctopolis.  

The note, and the realization it brought, was simple.  The Holy Ordos of His Divine Majesty’s Inquisition and the laws of the Imperium of Man were harsh.  They were known to declare all those who dealt in alien technology Excommunicate Traitoris.  This meant that the individual in question was expelled from the Church and light of the God-Emperor and cast out of the human race to be hunted down and executed.  If such a punishment was fit for those who merely traded technology crafted by aliens, then what of those who romanced, or even copulated with aliens?  The punishment for such an act would be… unbelievable.  Unfortunately, xenophilia was an accepted act in five of the nine galaxies that now made up reality.   Should His Majesty’s Inquisition find out that such people were accepted, it would mean instant and eternal war.  

Drake realized the Inquisition could deal with aliens by themselves, for if the aliens fought alongside humanity against larger threats, then they were an asset.  However, if Holy Humanity debased itself with aliens, and to the Inquisition, if aliens were treacherous and convinced humans to perfore perverse acts with them, then the Inquisition would have no other choice but to step in.  This would result in any alien race that had any sort of xenophiliac history with humanity to be exterminated, and human civilizations that thought xenophilia was acceptable to be brought under Imperial compliance.  

The civilizations and the xenophiles themselves had no idea of the storm that was about to bear down on them.  With Inquisitor Amberly Vail of the Ordo Xenos now in this galaxy and presumably finding out whatever she could about it, Drake had what he believed to be four options.

One, he could do nothing.  The simplest option.  If he stood by, Vail would find or overhear that Admiral Adam Vir had convinced the Galactic Assembly that xenophilia should be legal.  In that case, Drake could claim plausible deniability and the Inquisition might believe him.  Regardless, the xenophiles would be rounded up, the GA destroyed, and this galaxy would become part of the Imperium of Man.

Two, he could turn the xenophiles over to the Inquisition.  For eradicating such a large heresy, the Inquisition would probably give him whatever he wanted: advanced weapons technology, one of those delightful gothic starships, perhaps his own private moon.  However, innocents would die, the Scoundrels would be broken up, and Vir, Quill, Kirk, and Shepard would despise him before being forever silenced.  

Three, he could tell his compatriots or wait for them to do something.  However, Thomas Drake had succeeded and survived in life through one maxim: if you wanted something done right, then you did it yourself.  

Four, he could side with the xenophiles.  He would have to do this carefully, as, otherwise, the full wrath of the Inquisition would come down on his head.  He would have to get them underground, undercover, completely invisible from any prying eyes.  Already, he had sent warning messages to the Milano, Normandy, Omen, and Enterprise.  All were hand written and hand delivered, all written in Drake’s camera-less cabin.  No one could hack into handwriting.

The question was hard.  The answer was simple.  He was siding with the xenophiles.  Why?  At the moment, the xenophiles were sitting there, doing nothing.  The Inquisition, on the other hand, had gone and messed with his brain.  All moral concerns aside, he was siding against the Inquisition ‘cause fuck ‘em, that’s why.  Ah, spite.  That most excellent of motivators.  

The Falcon touched down on the putrid streets of Noctopolis, the polluted air swirling around the landing gear.  Drake and the armsmen disembarked, leaving Solo with Chewbacca to reclaim the last vestiges of his shredded memory.  The armsmen wore garb similar to Drake, all in heavy boots and trench coats.

Good: the trench coats were not armor or uniforms, and thus they would not be easily recognized.

Bad: a group of people wearing black coats and strutting about an overcrowded criminal-ruled moon would be seen and possibly remembered.

Best: trench coats could conceal weapons.  A lot of weapons.  Each of Drake’s armsmen wore clothing that was reinforced to stop bullets, and had enough guns on them to fuel an army.  No one would be messing with them today.  

They walked through the streets, their massive numbers and intimidating bearing making sure no one got in their way.  Making their way down fetid alleys and downwards, ever downwards, they reached a gorge with red smoke, pollution from some nearby factory, billowed.  They made their way through a deserted alley and reached a door.  Drake knew it hid a deceptively large building.  

“Fan out,��� he ordered the armsmen.  “Surround the building.  No one in or out without my permission.”  The armsmen nodded.  Weapons were pulled from concealment, the larger ones assembled quickly by their wielders.  First Squad had drawn duty today, and Saul stood by Drake’s side.  Two black coated women stood next to the door, shotguns at the ready.  He wasn’t expecting it, but there could be hostiles inside.  You never knew when you might need a hot breach.  Drake rapped on the door.  There was a long pause.  Drake and Saul stood unmoving.  The armsmen were ready with their weapons, turning the door and the alley into a kill zone.  Eventually, a slit opened and a pair of human eyes peered out.

“What do you want?” asked a somewhat surprised voice.

“I’m a friend of Adam,” replied Drake, the grin on his face unable to hide itself.  There was a snapping and rattling of chains and locks being undone, and the door opened.  Drake and Saul stepped through, two other armsmen who had been ready to provide support with compact submachine guns hot on their heels.  A man with electric blue hair stared, frightened, at the quite obviously mercenary soldiers that had just walked through his door.  Before he could say or do anything rash, Drake held out a calming hand.  

“Relax.  In this case, I really am who I say I am.”  He held out a paper, which the man took and carefully scanned.  

I, Admiral Adam Vir, hereby state that Thomas Drake is a close confidant and can be completely trusted.

Drake had papers with similar messages from all the Scoundrels.  He had forged their signatures and had their fingerprints on file.  It was, perhaps, a breach of trust, but he would not be offended if they did the same to him.  It was just good business.  Plus, such documents were very useful.  Very useful indeed.  As the man puzzled over what was happening, Drake held up a finger to his comms device.  

“You know, you really should change your passwords.  And your back door code is 0-0-0-0.  Sloppy,” sighed Drake.  “Very sloppy indeed.”  The blue harried man gapped up at him.  Drake sighed again.  “Can we, perhaps, go somewhere to talk business?  That is, of course, why I came.”  The man nodded, still slack jawed, and led the mercenaries through what seemed to be some sort of club and into the back rooms.  A group of strangely dressed humans and aliens stood there, apparently summoned by the blue haired man.  Drake sat in a vacant seat, the cheap leather scratching through his coat.  Saul and the two other armsmen stood beside him, their coats open, ready to grab hidden guns at a moment’s notice.

“Are you here to kill us?” opened one of the humans abruptly.  The other faces at the table were silent, but held the same worry.  Drake sighed for a third time.  

“I only kill those whose deaths are necessary or deserved.  You are neither, so you have nothing to fear from me.”  There were a few audible sighs of relief.  

“Then why are you here?” asked a small, furry alien. 

“I come with warnings.  There are those who would kill you, and I wish to prevent that,” replied Drake calmly.  There was a splatter of derisive laughter before another human held up a hand. 

“Are you… one of us?  Why would you want to warn us?”  Drake gave a rictus grin.  Some of his table-mates visibly shrunk back.  

“No I am not.  Frankly, I don’t care about you or your opponents here.  Let us just say that it’s better off you weren’t mass murdered by zealots.”  That brought a series of murmerings.  

“What?” asked a Drev.  “I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

“Indeed,” replied Drake.  “It is always wise to start at the beginning.”  He settled into his chair.  “I’m sure many of you are familiar with the fact that there are now nine galaxies in this universe, not just one.”  A chorus of yeses greeted this fact.  “You may also be familiar that in one of these galaxies resides a government known as ‘The Imperium of Man.’”  A chorus of hissed curses greeted that name.

“Xenophobic scum,” muttered someone.

“Hmm.  Yes,” replied Drake neutrally.  He leaned back even further and crossed his legs.  “At the present moment,” he continued, “The Imperium’s secret police, known as the Inquisition, is here, in this galaxy, investigating a completely unrelated matter.”  More mutterings.  “They are bound to investigate everything they can about this galaxy, and when they do, they will find out about your existence.  If this happens, you will all be tortured to death, and the GA, with most likely every alien race here, will be exterminated, with the galaxy coming under Imperial rule.”  Drake smiled over their horrified faces.  “I do not wish to see that happen.  Which is why you must do as I say.”  They all leaned in, desperate to hear if he could save them.  “One, you must disperse.  Groups attract attention.  I found this place easily, because I knew what to look for.  The Inquisition is even more adept than me.  Two, you must leave this place.  If a trail can be found, something I am trying to erase, believe me, but, if a trail can be found, it will lead to this moon.  Three, you must never, ever practice any sort of xenophilia, or have anyone suspect what you are.  Four, if you do as I say, and are still captured by the Inquisition, you must tell them that you are alone; a singular degenerate alone and unloved in this universe.  They will ask you to betray your comrades; don’t.  They will kill you either way.”  There was a stunned silence, before the room went up in shouts.

“No!”  

“Absolutely not!”

“You ask us to give up everything!  Everything we’ve worked so hard for!  To no longer be ourselves!  Adam Vir would never do this!”

“Adam Vir is not here!” thundered Drake.  “You are dealing with me now.”  He stood and rubbed his forehead as he paced.  “Nothing I have told you, or will tell you, is a lie.  My colleagues are, to a man, all better people than I.  However, they are, at times, unbearably naïve.”  He spun around and fixed them with his most intimidating glare, the one that made corporate oligarchs, high generals and planetary governors quake in their boots.  “Be grateful that you are dealing with someone who knows precisely what they are talking about.”  The table sat back down and watched Drake.  He frowned.  “Now, I can get you off this moon; get you to wherever you want to go.  I can give you new identities, multiple identities, just in case, food, tickets, papers: whatever you need to start a new life.”  He paused.  “However, all things come at a price.”

“I knew it!” hissed one of the humans.  A tesraki held up a hand, silencing the other members around the table.

“What do you want?” 

“I want information.  And you are going to give it to me.”

“What do you want to know?”  The voice was resigned to its owner’s fate.  Drake leaned forward. 

“Everything about the LFIL, everything about Admiral Vir, and everything about this galaxy that I don’t already know.  Give it to me and follow my directions, and I can ensure you will survive.”

Aboard the Fury of Deimos

Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex stood on the command bridge of the Grey Knight’s ancient ship, surrounded by the mindless servitors that crewed it.  In front of him were winking holograms of Admiral Vir, Captain Kirk, and Commander Shepard.  Deep into the blackness of space, a space station, so sleek and unlike anything Imperial, orbited an empty planet.  A camera feed from inside the research station flickered through the terminal in front of him.  What it displayed was clear signs of daemonic presence.  

“We got word just recently that this research station went dead,” said Vir.  “They apparently had some sort of artifact they were studying here.  It only came alive in the past few days.”  The cameras showed an infestation.  The artifact had spread throughout the station.  Twisted masses of white bone, flickering with red energy and black ooze, clung to the floors and walls.  Dark energy, lit with crackles of red, pulsed through the ceilings as if the station were some living thing.  As if the red crackling were arteries, filled with blood, flowing to the artifact, the beating heart of corruption.  The station’s crew were all dead.  Their bodies were held up by tendrils of bone, some twitching slightly as the horrible mass grew inside them.  Bone spread through every empty space in their bodies, growing through their eyes and mouths, infesting their noses, even going through their very veins.  To the watching Scoundrels, it was horrifying.  To Lord Hector, it was just a regular day.  

“It was good of you to inform me,” he replied.  “Stay aboard your ships.  We shall take care of this.”  The Scoundrels nodded.  If there were people who knew precisely how to combat this sort of thing, then they would differ to their expertise.  Rex deactivated the holograms and turned, walking off the bridge.  As he strode through the ship, he sent a mental message to Doctor Strange.  Strange was aboard, just in case the Knights or Inquisition needed his help.  He was staying in the hangar bay, though, for he just didn’t want to take the chance of being mind wiped.  

Strange.  We are cleansing the research station here.  Stay aboard.  If you receive word of any other artifacts being activated, you are free to intervene as you see fit.  

Understood, Lord Inquisitor.  I’ll be keeping my eyes open on the areas that celestially connect to Polaris.  

The Scoundrels awoke from their induced slumber with a warning: there were corrupting artifacts, hidden in the locations that Polaris was connected to.  These artifacts needed to be destroyed.  Rex couldn’t agree more.  

Through the halls bearing the symbols of the Grey Knights he walked, until he reached the teleportarium.  The five Knights who had accompanied him on this mission stood there, silently waiting, weapons in hand.  Rex simply nodded at them.  No words were needed.  His sword was always at his side, his armor always on him; no need to go get them.  

The silent party of Ordo Malleus operatives stepped into a large circular chamber, mysterious machinery clanking along the walls.  A servitor trundled forward, and flipped a lever.  

With an almighty crack of displaced air, Lord Hector Rex and the Grey Knights teleported aboard the now derelict research station.  The pulsating mass of bone and energy crackled ominously around them.  They marched inexorably forward, untouched by the corruption.  

“They are coming,” spoke the rumbling baritone of one of the Knights.  “This thing defends itself.”  Without warning, a fallen scientist leapt at them.  It’s eyes were dead and gone, replaced by inky black spots of primordial darkness.  It’s mouth stretched impossibly wide, bone spurs ready to shred flesh.  

It was unnaturally, unimaginably fast.  

The Grey Knights were faster.  

Nemesis force halberds crackled to life with but a thought, pure blue-white energy flowing across their blades.  The Knight nearest to the lifeless abomination spun at speeds the mortal eye could not follow, his psychic powers enhancing his already enhanced body.  The blade of his halberd connected with the thing’s neck, cleaving through bone and thin, lifeless skin like a knife through tissue paper.  The once-human fell, the unnatural life in its eyes gone.  With its death, the station exploded.  

Tentacles of bone whipped forward, seeking to impale the intruders.  More infected bodies darted forth, running at the Knights with speeds that would have astounded a normal human.  The darkness seemed to grow deeper, an unnatural deficit of light swimming forward to fill the halls.  

Lord Hector unsheathed his blade.  The sword was called Arias, an ancient weapon carried by the Ordo Malleus’s greatest heroes, reportedly blessed by the Emperor Himself during the Great Crusade.  It glowed with faint golden light, repelling the darkness around them.  He now brought it forward onto a corrupted scientist; a quick slice, almost as if he were swatting a fly.  The infected form fell, cleaved in two by Hector’s power.  

The Grey Knights spun and swirled through the station as if they were smoke.  Untouchable.  Untaintable.  Their psychic powers churned through the air, leaving blessed purity where there had been corruption a moment before.  They moved in tandem, augmenting each other with their power, exactly in tune with their brothers’ minds.  They were a brotherhood of demigods, slayers of the demonic, a group that brought only death to the damned.  

Lord Rex spun Arias in a defensive pattern, the consecrated blade shredding every attacker that reached him.  He held out a hand, and a dead Vrul scientist that had leapt at him, bone-fangs ready to tear his throat, stopped in mid-air, suspended with his mind.  His fist closed.  The Vrul exploded into bone shards.  

A wall of force, crackling with golden energy, swept away the encroaching darkness, fueled by the combined might of the Knights.  The scientists were all dead now, shredded by the psychic ammunition of the Grey Knights wrist-mounted bolters or cut down by their crackling blades.  The tentacles and walls redoubled their efforts, desperate to make sure the Inquisition didn’t reach the artifact at the center of the station’s corruption.  

With a swipe of his hand, the Grey Knight’s sergeant flicked open the heavy doors that led to the artifact’s chamber.  They saw it, a small mass of bone, swelling with unnatural power.  With a flick of his sword, Rex cut the tendrils that suspended it.  The very station seemed to shriek underneath them, the bone tendrils spasming.  Rex held the thing in mid-air, unwilling to touch it.  

“What shall we do with it?” he asked the sergeant.  

“Put it in a box.  Take it back to Titan.  We must study this,” replied the deep voice.  Another Knight came forward with a purified small metal container, and Rex telepathically lowered the artifact inside and sealed the lid.  With a mental command to the servitor, the Knights and Lord Inquisitor disappeared, teleported back to the Fury of Deimos.  The starships of the Scoundrels and Inquisition erased any trace of the station, its memory gone forever.  In its box, the cursed artifact pulsed, another relic to be taken back to the headquarters of the Grey Knights to be studied.

I hope you liked it.  If you have any requests or want me to write about a specific group or person, please tell me!  Wherever you are, have a great day.  

[lovehugsandcandy]

the stories we tell (and the stories we live) (Coltx MC, RoD)

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~2400 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (Not explicit but it’s there. And swearing.)

Summary: Colt’s story isn’t his own until it is.

.

When Colt thinks of stories, he thinks of the stories of his youth, hazy memories of sitting on his father’s lap and listening to tales of Kanekos past. He thinks of scenes from movies, car chases and explosions before the guaranteed victory, ending scenes and credits rolling with the hero beating the odds and riding off victorious into the sunset.

And then he gets older. 

And learns that stories are myths, hiding lies and false promises, wrapped in the guise of happy endings that will never happen.

Not to him.

And when he thinks of stories, he tries not to think of his own.

And when he does, when he thinks of the story of Colt and crew and the Kaneko name, he can’t of the beginning. 

It hurts too much to remember a time when he was a welcome fixture at the shop, when Pop greeted him with a smile, sometimes even a pat to his head. This was before, before those hands became angry and harsh, before the smiles turned to glares, before the words turned hateful and vicious, echoing the nightmares that creep into his sleep, shocking him awake in a cold sweat.

There are other stories, 

He steals his first car when he’s 11. It’s the first time he’s ever driven as well, the tips of his toes only able to graze the pedals when he leans against the steering wheel. It’s a massive effort to peer over the dash, to not press his scrawny chest on the horn, but he manages, denting only the bumper against an unlucky mailbox. But when he pulls into the garage, his father is more shocked than awed and his mother furious.

So he first leaves California when he’s 12, hustled onto his first airplane, deposited in an unfamiliar city with scabs lining his knuckles and a bruise blooming on his jawline, the first transition of many marking the flow between scenery and characters.

He’s first suspended when he’s 13. Everyone at this new school is despicable, but he’ll be damned if some upperclassman is going to throw slurs at him amidst a crowded hallway. He’s sent home, his opponent sent for stitches, and his mother spends five of her limited vacation days making his confinement as miserable as possible.

He first has sex in the dingy bathroom of a dive bar that obviously doesn’t care about liquor laws.

It’s a story he never tells. 

Stories are prideful things, lies portraying overcome odds and vanquished enemies until a triumphant, crescendoed victory. Curtains close on dreams attained.

His story has never gone like that and this memory is no different.

He’s 14, sipping something amber and toxic from a rocks glass because it makes him look cool, sitting alone as his knees knock against the stool because he hates everyone. His feet don’t even touch the ground yet, but it doesn’t seem to matter to the bartender, who keeps sliding booze across the slick bar top as long as the cash keeps coming from Colt’s pocket.

And apparently it doesn’t matter to the girl across the bar, all blond hair and glossy lips, pendant necklace dangling heavy above a low-cut shirt. She bats a heavy mascara gaze over her wineglass and it takes an embarrassingly long time before he recognizes the fire behind gaze.

His heart is racing when she perches on the stool next to him, and it’s with fumbling hands and drunken kisses that they weave a messy path to the bathroom.

Once they’re done, she buttons her jeans and smirks at him, waltzing out of the bathroom without a second glance.

It feels like a fitting end to his childhood, thrown from LA to end up staggering into the Bronx streets; his jeans are still unzipped but no one’s around to care as he turns the key in the empty apartment and sinks into freshly washed sheets.

If the saga of his childhood has ended (beginning as a worthy heir before being cast aside, thousands of miles away, lost boy and discarded son), then the story of his adulthood is beginning. Stories have beginnings and middles and ends, protagonists and supporting characters,  events when second matter, where every step taken leads towards a goal, an achievement of some sort.

He hasn’t achieved anything.

Not yet.

His mom gets off work at 3am, footsteps light as she makes her way to the adjoining bedroom. Once the light snores start, he creeps out of bed to spew stomach acid into the toilet, lights off, stifling the shameful hacking and choking.

He slips back into bed, mouthwash still tingling on his tongue, but sleep doesn’t come that night.

It doesn’t feel like a fortuitous beginning.

~~~~~

And then it doesn’t get better.

The fights continue.

He comes home weekly with bruised knuckles and wounded pride, counting the days until he can free himself from the cast of characters around him.

Every teacher treats him like an adversary, every stupid social clique shuns him, and it’s fucking bullshit but he doesn’t need anyone, none of these assholes at this fucking school. It’s him against the world, at least until he can get back to LA, back to the home and the legacy that belongs to him.

His mother wants everything from him. They’re alone, the two of them, and he falls into the role of trusted confidant and then wayward son and finally complete stranger; none of the roles he tries satisfy anyone in this fracturing family of two.

The girls want one thing from him and it’s so simple, so easy, and the best part is that he doesn’t have to think, just for a moment.

His dad wants nothing from him, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip so his sobs don’t echo through the thin apartment walls.

~~~~~

Stories come in chapters and his next one takes him to LA. It’s inevitable that he ends up here, speeding aimlessly through the crowded streets, ending up on the outskirts of a crowd that should part for him like the seas.

The first time he sees her, she looks like a baby hawk. Not that he’s ever seen a baby hawk, mind you, but her eyes peer sharply around the lot even though her steps are stuttering and small.

He would never have guessed that she would be more than a supporting character in his fateful return, but soon, she becomes everything. His mind is consumed with their future, ruling LA as a team, owning the next stage of the Kaneko legacy. Her insightful mind and sharp wit are both challenging and refreshing; it feels like he’s met his match.

His story is finally beginning.

But the pyre in front of him is actually the conclusion. Flames lick at his eyebrows as he drives by, staring into the wreckage for something, anything; her arms around his waist are the only thing keeping him upright.

And if his father’s explosion is the end, then the blaze at the garage is the epilogue, the wreckage a fitting end to the Kaneko legacy.

~~~~~

It takes years, four to be exact, before he’s comfortable taking a brief vacation. Building up the fledgling crew has been challenging and painstaking, but, brick by brittle brick, he has finally created a crew worthy of the Kaneko name. 

So he heads to New York. 

Colt cares about two people in the world and the irony of them being in the same city at the same time feels a little like choreographed coincidence and a little like fate.

He starts with his mother. She’s moved to Manhattan, and he needs to Google the route, feet almost taking him into the gritty streets he knows intimately well. He recalibrates off the train, unfamiliar buildings flying by as he crosses the East River and straight into her new setting and her new life. They walk through the tree-lined streets; she lives in Soho now and every step is strange. She leads him through farmers’ markets and points out breakfast joints, each one a reminder of how far away he is. As they amble, she speaks of her job before turning the conversation to Pop; his every reply is halting, pain and truth veiled through clipped words and terse responses, his hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched to his ears.

For two people who share a bloodline and a language, they’re incomprehensible to each other. Colt realizes, with sickening clarity, how much better his mom’s life is now, now that he’s gone and vanished across the country.

She holds him close outside her new apartment building (this one doesn’t have bars on the first-floor windows) and her eyes well with a sadness she can’t name (or won’t, Colt thinks bitterly, shifting on his heels in her embrace). Her hands linger on his shoulders, and she presses a lipstick kiss into his cheek; he furiously wipes it off as he strides to the subway.

His palms flash pomegranate pink as he swipes his pass.

Langston is eighteen stops uptown. It takes thirty minutes on the A train, and he’s wasting away every second, an eternity spent watching subway tiles and grim faces blur past.

He blends in with the crowd, rowdy college kids streaming into her dorm, and he sneaks up the stairs and raps lightly on the door. They barely talk but he’s immediately understood, her hands gentle under his jaw, up his shoulder blades, then insistent up his sides, gripping his forearms, tugging his hair.

She curls against him, the slide of her skin both foreign and reminiscent, and shakes her head. “I can’t believe you just showed up here. You’re lucky seniors get singles.”

“I can’t believe you let me in.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I guess I was cautiously optimistic.” He craned his neck to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “Guess I was right.”

She grabs his hand, tracing up and down each finger as if she were relearning every knuckle, every tiny scar. When her inspection is complete, she stills. “I waited for you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“For years I thought…” She trails off, and he wonders if they thought the same, that the other would reach out, bridge the miles and the trauma; he’s lost in the past until she curls over him and then there’s no time for thinking anymore.

They emerge the next morning, blinking away the sun, and she pulls him through her haunts, dragging him to the coffee shop where they know her order, her favorite path through the park.

She drags him with glee through the tourist traps and side haunts; they have beers at tiny dive bars, eat pretzels from rickety carts, and walk city blocks until his feet and cheeks hurt, hand in hand.

She glows here, radiantly beautiful, and he realizes that maybe she as well has been bolstered by his absence.

Even though it’s not Colt’s borough of choice, it’s hard not to feel comfortable as she pulls him down the packed streets, weaving through crowds with the same agility with which she wove through highway car chases. 

She’s at home here as she is behind the wheel, and something in his chest tightens. 

She belongs here, vibrant as the surrounding city, crafting her own story.

~~~~~

He needs to get back. 

Empires don’t build themselves.

He doesn’t tell her but, apparently, he doesn’t have to. It’s achingly slow as he slides into her, savoring every moment to remember when he’s back home, alone. She rolls her hips against his and it’s almost painful, blinding light flashing patterns behind his eyelids as she takes her pleasure from him, quivering above him until he can’t stand it, flipping her over in one fierce motion to bury himself, again and again, world dissolving with her squeal of pleasure in his ears and his teeth in her shoulder.

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

She starts, head jerking off his shoulder, and he can’t bring himself to look into her eyes. Instead, he focuses on the assignments scrawled on her whiteboard, each one a reminder of a goal to attain, and the graduation cap askew on her desk, a reminder of the path she had chosen, her story told in the golden tassels dangling to the floor.

“You don’t need to ask.”

This time, it’s him jerking up, head spinning to face her. “What do you…?”

“I was coming anyway.” She settles back against him, and he counts the puffs of breath against his skin as reassurance that this is real. “I told you… I waited for you. I had a go bag packed for two years,” he feels her lips tug into a rueful smile against him as she continues, “a backpack stuffed in my closet with clothes and stuff, just in case you asked, just in case you called.”

“I called. Once.”

“Wha… when?”

“February of your sophomore year.” His hand slides up her back to tangle in her hair. “From a payphone in Torrance. It rang once, and I hung up. I couldn’t… I thought better of it. I couldn’t mess it up for you.”

“You don’t mess anything up for me. You help me be great. We’re gonna be great together.”

He springs two thousand bucks for an additional plane ticket and upgrades to first class. She points out the NY landmarks as they climb into the air and then curls against him as she dozes. They land at LAX, falling into bed in the loft at the shop, and, the next day, she climbs aboard the back of his bike, arms warm around him as they pull over to the cliff.

This isn’t a story.

Stories have heroes and villains and everything is tied up nearly at the end, when the evil is vanquished and the hero gets the girl and the sun rises on a brand new day when everyone lives happily ever after.

This isn’t a story.

It’s real life and real life has real people, all their virtues and flaws, hopes and dreams, and there are no storybook saviors riding in to save the day --- at least not in Colt’s life.

There’s only him and this girl and the sun setting brilliantly beneath the ocean below, lighting the cresting waves in purples and blues, and this isn’t the end, not at all.

.

Tags:

Perma

@leelee10898, @client-327, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @choicesarehard, @burnsoslow, @zaffrenotes, @kat-tia801, @desiree-pow-35-1986, @ritachacha

ROD

@omgjasminesimone, @mskaneko, @alyssalauren

Colt x MC

@flowerpowell, @shondideaira-blog @isometimesplaychoices @romewritingshop

[loki-hargreeves]

Once Upon A Dream - Loki x Reader [Ch. 3]

[Previous chapter] ~ [Next chapter]  Warnings: blood, self inflicted wound, angst, mentions of torture, self-deprecating thoughts, sentimental stuff and the battle of New York (action, fighting etc) Word Count: 9,5K  Chapter Summary: You and Loki are finally alone and seemingly no one can bother you. He begins to tell you parts of your past. Nothing good lasts forever, since Erik Selvig arrives with the tesseract and Loki has to set his plan in motion. Turns out that the both of you are fighting for the same thing; freedom, but under very different circumstances.  Author’s Note: This doesn’t follow the exact order of the events in the film. I changed a few things to suit the plot better. Other than that, I hope you’ll enjoy it! Listen to: Once Upon A Dream playlist

THIRD POV

[CH 3 All I’ve Ever Known]

~ And now my memory seems to be failing me

         What once was fantasy is all I've ever known ~

Escaping with Loki, taking his hand and joining his unknown master-plan, was perhaps the most exciting and frightening thing Y/N had done. It was something she chose to do out of her own will, despite knowing damn well it wasn’t the right thing to do. Helping a prisoner escape? Aiding him in something that S.H.I.E.L.D. viewed as a threat? It was so wrong, but it felt so right. 

Perhaps the unlawfulness and rebellious side of it all was what excited her so much. She knew that she was closer to getting the answers she had only dreamt of hearing for so long. Finally, it was her time to shine.

Loki wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what had to be done in order for them to escape unnoticed -- for now. The Hulk was free and the Avengers were too busy trying to calm the raging beast down, so they didn’t have time to think about Loki or Y/N. Not really. The thought of asking for her help certainly didn’t cross their mind. 

And when they eventually would come to notice that someone was missing, it would be too late. 

              As they escaped the massive helicallier, there wasn’t much time to propose questions. They both had one thing on mind, and it was the get out of there as fast as possible.

Watching from the side as Loki used the powerful sceptre to take control over people’s minds was haunting. He didn’t look proud of as he turned the pilots into his puppets, but it was necessary. The entire time from the moment they left the helicarrier and eventually ended up in the city of New York felt like a heartbeat. One moment she had been working with the Avengers so she could gain her freedom, and now she stood by Loki’s side and she felt as free as a bird. It all happened incredibly fast. 

“Why are we here?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she had spoken until now. Everything was a haze in her overwhelmed mind. 

Loki had been determined to get them on the Stark tower. It stood proud between the other skyscrapers and from up above, they could see the city as far as their eyes would let them. It stretched so far that it was difficult to believe it was real. In every building there were people, the streets were full of cars and it was loud. But not loud enough to disturb them so high up above the ground. It was almost peaceful. 

“It’s the perfect place for the plan,” Loki answered quite vaguely. Earlier, when they had been alone, he had been quite sweet and well focused on her. Right now, he avoided her gaze and failed to stay still for a few seconds. It was clear that he was on edge, but she didn’t know why. 

Was it the plan? 

What was he doing anyway?

“Mind telling me about it?” Y/N felt like she was playing with fire. But at the end of the day, she had risked everything to join him. In her mind, she deserved to know. Perhaps, she could help him fulfill this plan of his.

Loki stilled. He wasn’t proud of what he had to do, but he couldn’t stop now. Even if he wanted it to stop, he wasn’t sure if his body would comply. There were invisible strings attached to him and when he tried to fight it, he felt lost and helpless. Those terrible feelings reminded him of what his life had been recently, ever since he let go of the spear and fell off the Bifrost bridge. In his mind, death would’ve been more merciful than the destiny that followed.

If he didn’t do as planned, he feared he would return to the world of raw pain. Or worse, that Y/N would take his seat in the torturous hell and he would be in the audience. She might’ve not remembered him, but Loki remembered everything. 

“Are you okay?” She noticed that her question pained him. 

“I will be,” Loki faked a smile, hoping that it would relieve her. He knew how stubborn she could be, or how stubborn she had been before. He wondered if he could distract her from his plan by mentioning their past? The thought alone made his heart ache. It felt so wrong to make her remember them when he was going to break her all over again. Surely, she’d hate him for what he was about to do. 

They had time to spare as they waited for the earthly doctor to deliver the final piece to the massive puzzle. Loki put down the sceptre, and when his skin lost touch with it, he felt more relaxed immediately. He faced Y/N who had been following him closely. They stood inside the penthouse where they were sheltered from everything, even if it was only for a brief moment. It was warm, and the place smelled clean. Could he notice the trace of wine lingering in the air?

“I believe it’s time for me to hold up to my end of the bargain,” Loki skillfully geared the conversation away from the big plan to the past. It almost hurt to see the ray of hope shining in her eyes. 

“Really?” She sounded excited. 

Loki gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. If he was in her shoes, he would’ve needed a seat. “It’s a long story.”

They sat down beside each other, which reminded Y/N much of her previous dream. Only this time, Loki was the Loki she knew, not the romantic man who had kissed her tears away. Her heart was beating faster as time passed and she could feel it drumming against her rib cage. This was it. The moment she had waited for for so long. 

“You are not who you think you are. This place,” Loki pointed out of the window, vaguely gesturing at the realm of Midgard, “This realm isn’t your home. You come from Asgard,” Loki finally poured some truth in the mixture of lies she had bathed in. 

She was Asgardian? 

The thought of being from another planet was absurd. It made her lose her breath and she felt small, rather vulnerable. It was unbelievable. If anyone else had told her she wasn’t even from planet Earth, she might’ve laughed it off. But this was someone who knew her. It made sense that she wasn’t even human, yet hearing it was strange. Her skin felt cold and she was trapped. Did it mean she had a family as far away as on Asgard? A past? A vivid life where she once knew joy?

Loki recognized the look on her face. It hadn’t been too long since he had felt like her too. When he discovered his whole life was not but a lie, that he belonged to a race he was raised to hate. It hurt.

In a desperate attempt to comfort her, Loki gently took her hand in his. It had been too long since he had felt her skin against his, and he wished sincerely that it would spark a memory in her of their shared past. 

“We knew each other,” Y/N mumbled, trying to hold onto flashes of memories that passed her mind but to no avail. “How?” 

How could Loki ever begin to explain to her what they had? It was so deep-rooted that he was sure there weren’t words good enough to describe what they had. That’s when he remembered something. He turned her hand so her palm faced the ceiling and they could both see it clearly. Carefully, he put his own palm above hers.

“Have you heard of soulmates?” Loki wondered. By now, he wasn’t a threat or an intimidating enemy of people. He seemed like a nervous man who was about to confess his feelings to someone. 

She had heard of soulmates in her dreams. “I have,” Y/N admitted carefully, wondering if they truly were soulmates. It seemed crazy, like something out of a storybook. But it would also explain quite many things. 

“This might be a lot, but hear me out,” Loki began tracing his fingertips on her skin, running them on her palm which made goosebumps rise on her skin. How could some who fought so harshly be this gentle? 

“I was told from a very young age, that soulmates are two people who are carved from the same branch of the tree of life. From the very beginning, they have been connected. They share the same star,” He explained it with passion in his voice. His hand stilled above hers. When he turned his palm up and placed it next to hers, he revealed something new.

A pattern had appeared on their palms that Y/N had never seen before. They were identical. A star constellation that shone on their skins. She noticed nine stars, but only seven of them shone brightly. The two others were dull compared to the rest. Nevertheless, their palms resembled puddles of magic as the constellations moved ever so slightly. The sight of the stars moving in sync was astonishing. They were beautiful. So many questions began to run circles in her mind. 

“I suppose to answer your question, we’re soulmates. But it has never been quite that simple. Yes, we were lucky to be born and alive at the same time, but life challenged us.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and faced him worriedly. She swore she saw suffering deep in his expression. Facing Loki and knowing they were soulmates was like looking at him through new lenses. She wished they had the time and the peace to talk things through with time and consideration. But reality was a painful weight on her shoulders. Although they were like this now, it wouldn’t last long. 

“I’ll tell you more of it eventually. To keep a long story short, when Odin found out about us, he wasn’t too pleased. He made it very clear that we weren’t supposed to stay in touch, but,” He paused for a moment as a genuine smile spread on his face, “we never listened to him.”

Loki used his magic to paint a fuller picture. He turned their reality into an illusion so they no longer were in the Stark penthouse. Instead, they were on Asgard. It was a place from his deepest memories, from the time he was younger. Asgard looked as great as ever. The streets were full of people, the sun was shining above their heads and it smelled like fresh bread. There was a bakery nearby. 

Y/N watched in awe as she took in the surroundings. She could remember this place, and she wasn’t sure how. It made her feel at home and safe. 

“Your parents owned a bakery in Asgard,” Loki broke the silence. He stood up and so did she, keeping the distance between them short. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve believed him if he said they had teleported to Asgard. It looked so real. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. As Loki began walking towards the bakery where the lovely scent came from, she followed. The next thing she knew, they were looking in through the wide window. 

Inside they could see a small family. Once Y/N saw their faces, she recognized them. The woman with the warm smile and orange dress was her mother. She was beautiful, and joy and kindness radiated from her. Beside her, by the oven where bread was being made was a shorter man. He wore an apron and he looked delighted. His voice was deep, although she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Deep down, Y/N knew it was her father.

The next person she saw was herself, but she was much younger. She watched as her child self ran in through the door to greet her parents with a hug. Although she hardly remembered anything of her past, she somehow knew exactly what happened next. She told them about her school day, and then she tasted the new bread her parents had made. She was the one who named it and they sold the bread as ‘sun bread´. 

It was a bittersweet thing to witness. There had truly been a time when she had been this happy and full of life. She had a family that loved her. Her heart swelled in her chest and she missed that. Where were they now? Did they know she was alive? 

“A few years after this, you welcomed a little brother into your family,” Loki let her enjoy the memory for a little longer until he changed it. Suddenly, the bakery was gone. They were at a healer’s place. The only light in the room came from behind the curtains. Despite the dim lighting, they saw well. There was a bed in the middle and the same faces were there. 

Y/N’s mother was holding a crying baby in her arms, as Y/N and her father walked in to greet them. 

Loki didn’t have to say it. Y/N already knew that this was when their family was complete. It was just the four of them but they were content and delighted.  

A memory sparked deep in her mind and it sent shivers down her spine. “That’s Vragi,” She remembered her baby brother’s name. By now, she had tears in her eyes. How could she have forgotten about them?

To hear her say his name surprised Loki. He knew that showing her visions of her past would jog her memory, but he hadn’t expected her to recover any memories so fast. Nevertheless, it made him happy. That was a wonderful sign. 

“Yes,” Loki confirmed that she was indeed correct. “He grew up to be a guard at the palace. I believe he’s still doing well,” He wanted her to know that her brother was still alive. What she didn’t know was that he believed she was dead. Vragi had turned bitter for a while after he learned how the palace treated his sister, but he hadn’t been able to afford losing his job. Loki wondered how he was doing now.

“What about my parents?” Y/N had to know. She turned to face Loki with curious eyes. Her heart felt heavy as she feared the worst. As long as they would be alive and well, she would be happy. 

Loki wasn’t sure how he would tell it to her. Being the bringer of bad news was never fun. “Your mother, she is doing well. She still runs the bakery, as far as I’m aware.”

“And my father?” 

She deserved to know the truth. Loki already knew it wouldn’t make her happy, but he was strong enough to tell the story to her. He took a deep breath and faced her directly. 

“After you were pronounced dead, he refused to believe the news. He went searching for you beyond Asgard’s borders and no one has seen or heard from him since.”

He was gone.

Y/N’s heart sunk to her stomach and she felt physically ill. Had her father died because of her? How was she supposed to be dead? It didn’t make any sense at all. 

The only thing that was clear was her sense of guilt. She wished that her father was alive, but if she would learn he had died while searching for her, she would never forgive herself. 

“H-how...how am I dead, Loki? Why do people think I’m dead?!” 

He wasn’t entirely sure of how he could explain it to her. Was it all on Odin? Was he the one to be blamed, or had Loki a say in it as well? Did she want to be pronounced dead? There were too many loose threads. 

The illusion around them turned dark, until it was pitch black around them. It looked like they had stepped into a void. 

“I don’t know,” Loki admitted after a while. “I think that only you know the truth, Y/N.”

How ironic. She was the only one with the key to the past, and she couldn’t remember a damn thing.

Suddenly the elevator doors opened which startled both Loki and Y/N. The dark surroundings around them fractured like glass and eventually vanished into thin air, returning them to the penthouse. Loki was ready to attack whoever entered the penthouse, until he saw who it was and he relaxed his shoulders. Loki let out a breath of relief as he saw Erik Selvig with the briefcase. Quickly, he gave Y/N an apologetic look for having to end their conversation so abruptly. After all, they were just getting started.

“Finally,” Loki took the briefcase from the man and felt thrilled. If only he could use that power by himself. It was a shame where it was going to after this.

“What’s that?” Y/N wanted to know. For the sake of her own sanity, she tried to ignore everything that just happened. It was something that would keep her up at night, and distract her. In order to work with Loki, she had to put it aside. It wasn’t easy, but she had learned to control her mind when needed.

She was right by Loki’s side as he opened it, just to make sure it was still there. When he briefcase opened, their eyes were met by a bright, blue light. It was almost too bright to look at.

“This is the tesseract.”

Y/N was fascinated by it. Not only was it beautiful to look at, but it contained so much energy. She could feel it radiating off it and she wanted to touch it, but didn’t. It contained so much raw power to touching it would probably not be a great idea. 

That’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to find. They were ready to put together a team of people like her just to get their hands on it again. Whatever it was, it must’ve been incredibly powerful and one of its kind. 

Loki shut the briefcase and took a deep breath, “I think it’s best if you stay here. We have work to do.” He didn’t want her to see what they were going to do. Besides, there wasn’t much she could do; for now. 

The big plan. Y/N had almost forgotten about it as her mind tried to process everything else. For some reason, Loki didn’t want to tell her what it was all about and it made her curious. How bad it could be? 

Without wasting any time, Loki and Selvig walked to the balcony together. Loki grabbed the sceptre on his way, and he changed. His spine straightened and he carried himself differently. It’s like all he could focus on was his mission and he didn’t even glance back at her. 

By now, Y/N was sure of one thing. The sceptre wasn’t good. Whenever she saw it, people acted strangely. Back on the helicarrier, the avengers had gotten bitter and they fought each other when the sceptre was nearby. Each time Loki held it, his softness vanished.

She was afraid of what was behind all of this. Or who. Who made Loki do this? 

Y/N didn’t even notice that she was spiralling into a dark place until it felt like the world was closing in on her. Quickly, before she would make a fool of herself, she hurried into the nearest room. She yanked the door open, only to see a bathroom and it was good enough. As she closed the door and faced her own reflection, her breath stopped somewhere deep in her throat.

She was free

She had a soulmate

She was Asgardian 

She had a family, and if her father was dead, it was all her fault...

Although she thought she could handle it all, she learned she had only been lying to herself. Knowing all that was overwhelming and she felt so awfully guilty. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes and it was difficult to breathe. 

“Keep yourself together,” She told herself strictly and tried to take a deep breath. Her body was shaking. It was all so overwhelming and it just had to take a toll on her now, at the worst possible time. When she looked at her palm, the stars had faded. Why were two of the stars dull? Once again, her eyes scanned her reflection on the huge mirror. The outfit she wore didn’t look like her. It was boring and it reminded her of the agents and soldiers who had been her only company for the previous decade. Then she scanned her face, the scars she had, even the one on her neck.

The tracking chip!

How could she have forgotten? There was a chip in her neck that surely led S.H.I.E.L.D. right to them. That was terrible!

“No, no, no, no...” In a panic, she opened the drawers and tried to find something she could use in order to get rid of it. Soon enough, she found a pair of scissors. Although the thought of digging something sharp and cold into her neck was gnarly, the thought of the Avengers showing up there any moment now was worse. 

With shaking hands, she went for it. The microchip wasn’t that deep in her neck, and luckily, she knew exactly where it was too. By locating it with her powers, she tried to reach it with one of the blades of the sharp scissors. When it pierced her skin, she let out a series of curse words. It stung a lot, but it was nothing she wasn’t able to endure. 

Blood started to pool from the small wound and it ran beneath her shirt, which felt uncomfortable, like wet sleeves after washing your hands. The scissors had done their job and she used tweezers to grab it. The microchip was incredibly tiny and grabbing it wasn’t easy. Blood had made it slick and it didn’t want to be held. Perhaps what was worse than the pain were the sounds. The wound was so close to her ear that she heard everything, making her sick.

Finally, after a battle with the tweezers, she pulled it out. After all those years, it was now on her palm. Despite the pain and the bloody mess she had made, she was happy. Having it out of her neck was just another tiny victory of her freedom. With her super strength, she was able to crush it beyond repair. 

                   Loki couldn’t believe he had come so far. The portal opened and a powerful beam shot up at the sky. In a matter of seconds, it cracked a hole into the blue sky and he saw the darkness of the other end of the portal. Although the sight was powerful and captivating, it wasn’t something that eased him. He knew the destruction that would follow from creating the vortex. 

Before Y/N could see it and jump to conclusions, he wanted to find her. She deserved to know what was happening, although it was the last thing he wanted to tell her. It all would’ve been so much easier if it had been true all along, that she was gone forever. But she was there, alive and very real. He felt safe leaving Selvig there alone, to keep the portal open. 

To see the spacious apartment without her in the middle was concerning. Loki picked up his pace and decided to check the rooms. His mind went to the worst possibility at once. Had she left? Had something happened when he had turned his back on her?

He couldn’t say he felt relieved when he found her on the bathroom floor with her hand pressed against her neck. He saw dry blood all over her skin and she looked like she had been crying. 

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N whimpered quietly.

Loki let go of the spear and joined her on the floor in a rush. He was worried for her sake, “what for?” 

She raised her hand and revealed the microchip, that was broken by now. “They must know where we are.”

Loki genuinely felt sorry for her. He didn’t wish for her to carry guilt for that. Besides, they would certainly find them now with the portal that was currently pouring an army into the city. 

“Y/N, they are bound to find us. It’s alright, it’s going to be alright,” Loki wasn’t sure if he even believed himself. Even if he succeeded and did what Thanos had wanted him to do, there was no guarantee that they would be alright after it all was over. But she didn’t need to hear that right now. She didn’t even know about Thanos. 

Loki replaced her bloody hand with his and decided to help. He took a deep breath and focused on magic that was old but well known to him. Healing wounds was essential to someone like him. A green flicker of magic lit the room for a moment. Y/N felt a tingly sensation on her neck as Loki healed the small wound, making it look like it had never been there in the first place. 

Now she just felt embarrassed for letting her emotions get the best of her. 

“Thank you,” She cleared her throat and avoided Loki’s gaze. 

“Are you okay?” Loki wondered. He knew the mindset she was in and it wasn’t healthy. Her entire life was changing and it was something that could break even the strongest of minds. 

As Y/N wiped her dried tears away and took a deep breath, she made up her mind. “Yeah, I’m okay. It just got to me for a moment.”

Loki put his hand on her cheek, which made her look right into his eyes. “We’ll make it,” Loki tried to sound sure of it. “Once we finish this, nothing can some in our way.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

Despite having no way of predicting the outcome of this battle, she found comfort in his words. That was good enough for the time they had. If only the circumstances were different. Loki would’ve done everything differently, but he had no choice. Time was running out. 

“When you walk out of this room, everything will be different,” Loki tried to find a good way to tell her. He helped her back on her feet and for a moment, they stood there just facing each other. 

Y/N had a terrible gut feeling. 

“My bargain with the person I’m working with isn’t a sight for sore eyes. It’s...something disastrous. But it has to be done,” Loki was careful with his words. 

“Loki, who are you working for?” It made no sense to her that someone as powerful as he was doing the dirty work of someone else. Whoever it was, they must’ve been a nightmare. 

It was clear that this person made Loki uneasy. He looked scared for a moment, but he tried to mask it with a brave front. “Thanos. There are many words I could use to describe him. But I hope that I can put him in my past once this is all over.”

By now, Y/N couldn’t just stand there anymore. Her curiosity got the best of her as she stormed out of the bathroom, only to look through the large windows in the penthouse. What she saw was like a scene from a movie. The city that looked peaceful yet so busy a moment ago was now full of levitating alien creatures, some were destroying buildings and more of them came out from the sky. 

She noticed the portal. The one that the tesseract had created.

“What is going on?” Y/N tried her best to stay calm and think of this from Loki’s perspective. Was there anything he could say or do to justify this? She was in so much shock that she couldn’t even tear her eyes off the sight. 

He appeared right behind her and he too watched as chaos unfolded before their eyes. “The Chitauri army is here. In order to free myself from Thanos’ regime, we made a deal. I bring him the tesseract, and in return, I would get my freedom. But in his terms, my freedom is Earth.” As Loki remembered the torture he had gone through, he cringed. He remembered how the Other had threatened him by saying “If you fail if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.” They had tortured him for so many moons, and if that wasn’t pain enough, Loki didn’t want to imagine what they had in store for him.

It was conflicting. At times, Loki felt so confident in this plan. He was eager to follow through and become the king he knew he was, that he was born the be. A part of him wanted to succeed so Thor would feel his wrath. Then again, Loki found himself thinking he was doing something terrible, that he had to make it stop. He didn’t really care for humanity or the realm. To rule it wasn’t on the top of the list of his fantasies. Was it too late to turn back now? Possibly. The longer he thought about it, the less he seemed to know of his own needs and desires. He was simply a man with a mission.

Y/N didn’t know any of that. “What happens if you fail?” She genuinely wondered what could be so bad that Loki would do this in order to avoid.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat. Loki wasn’t quite sure, but he knew it was terrible. If he thought the torture he felt through Thanos’ hand was bad enough, then he couldn’t imagine what concoction of terror he had planned for Loki next. 

They faced each other. For a moment, in the middle of the havoc that was destroying everything that people knew to be safe and normal, nothing else existed. They both thought about it, about how much better it would’ve been if they had always been by each other’s side. If they had walked down a different path in life, would they be standing there right now? 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Loki,” Y/N knew he wasn’t going to answer her previous question. She truly meant that. She had a hatred for people after what they had done to her, but deep down she knew that not all of them were cruel. Hopefully, Loki’s plan wouldn’t risk too much. She wasn’t going to stop it though. 

Both Loki and Y/N noticed a familiar man soaring through the sky, towards them. It was Iron Man, landing on another balcony while keeping direct eye contact with both Loki and Y/N.

The sight of him disarming himself and walking inside sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. She knew that this was only the beginning of something huge.

Loki didn’t want Y/N to get into trouble. Quickly thinking, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kept the other wrapped around the sceptre, holding her so she wouldn’t be able to escape, only as an act. The tip of the spear was pressed against her pulse.

At first, being grabbed by Loki made her flinch. Had he lied to her the entire time? Was he going to hurt her? Then she put the pieces together and realized what was going on. It was all an act.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Loki whispered in her ear from behind. One step at the time they made it toward the bar where Tony was making a drink. How bizarre.

Tony glanced at Y/N, unsure if she was a hostage or an enemy. For now, he couldn’t be sure so he had to assume she was still on their side. having her on the team would be remarkable. Tony had read her report and he knew that it was much better to have her as an ally rather than an enemy. 

“Does she really have to suffer so you can succeed with your shenanigans?” Tony wondered, implying that Loki was ready to harm her.

Y/N tried to look afraid. A part of her was genuinely scared, but for entirely other reasons. Her breath was heavy and she was tense as she felt Loki’s touch on her body. It was almost nice if it wasn’t for the situation they were in. She was playing hostage as Iron Man stood before them. He probably had a plan in his mind and they had to be careful. 

“Please tell me you’re trying to appeal to my humanity,” Loki mocked him. Right now, his voice was so deep and spiteful. Her back was pressed against his chest and she could feel his deep voice vibrating against her back as he spoke. She swore she could feel his heartbeat as well.

“Uhh, actually no,” Tony looked into Y/N’s eyes, and it seemed like he was trying to read her. It didn’t last long, as he continued his conversation with Loki. “I’m threatening you.”

Loki didn’t seem too impressed. Once again, the power of the sceptre made his only ambition to finish this job. “You should’ve left your armour on for that.”

Tony poured something into a glass and took a sip of the drink, acting as if this was an entirely normal situation. “Perhaps. Would you like a drink?” 

“I won’t let her go if that’s your goal. Stalling me won’t help and it certainly won’t save her,” Loki’s words sounded so genuine that if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would’ve been terrified. 

Tony wondered why Loki hadn’t used his mind-bending powers on her yet. The entire hostage situation was strange. Was she more valuable to him without the brainwashing? He wanted to know. 

“Are you sure?” Tony tried again. He needed as much time as he could get in order to proceed with his plan. 

Loki loosened his grip on her ever so slightly. It would be easy for Y/N to untangle herself from him, but she didn’t need to nor did she want to. She knew that Loki trusted her to act if they met more enemies. She had made up her mind. She was going to stand by his side through the madness that was happening. 

“The Chitauri army is here and you’re having a drink,” Loki wondered why the hero wasn’t out there, working with the precious Avengers. The longer Loki held the sceptre, the angrier he grew. The hatred and pain he felt inside turned stronger and it wasn’t good. The more he focused on all the negative feelings within himself, the less he cared about everything else. 

“Fighting your army would be easier with her,” Tony looked at Y/N. “And we have to stop you.” He wanted free her from Loki so they could fight side by side. Tony could only dream of that. 

“I have an army,” Loki felt the need to make that clear. How could they possibly defeat that? 

“We have a Hulk.”

“I thought the beast had wandered off,” Loki admitted and Y/N silently agreed. She too thought they hadn’t possibly contained the raging beast. It certainly surprised her. 

Tony’s easygoing attitude shifted. He took one glance at the outside world and suddenly seemed more serious. Was he afraid? Did the Chitauri make him uneasy?

“You’re missing the point. There’s no version of this where you come out at the top,” Tony sounded incredibly sure of himself. It sounded like he wanted piss  Loki off, which was a terrible idea. “Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it!”

Y/N felt Loki’s muscles tense as he grew more furious. Tony’s degrading words reminded him too much of Thor and their so called friends. His grip on the spear tightened and Y/N suddenly didn’t feel as comfortable being wrapped up against him anymore. Tony, with the drink in his hand, walked away from the bar and made his way closer to them. That’s when Loki pointed the sceptre at Tony instead of Y/N.

“One more step and you’ll be busy fighting your friends with her,” Loki threatened Tony. 

What did he mean by that? 

As soon as the words left Loki’s mouth, he pushed her to the side, rather harmlessly. Then he pushed the tip of the spear against Tony’s chest, right above the spot where his heart was supposed to be. It all happened incredibly fast. Y/N expected to see Tony turn into a mindless toy soldier, but absolutely nothing happened. How was he safe from the power of the sceptre? The sight baffled her.

Tony expected Y/N to rush to his aid. After all, he had hoped she was truly a hostage and that she was by their side. When he stood there and Loki confused over why his powers weren’t working, he knew it; Y/N was now an enemy. 

Tony looked disappointed. 

“This usually works,” Loki tried to understand how he was immune to such great power. It had never failed him before!

“Performance issues are quite common. I just didn’t think she’d tag along with you, knowing this-” Tony’s witty sentence was cut short when Loki grabbed his throat harshly, nearly crushing his windpipe. Then Loki sent Tony flying across the room. The glass shattered loudly and his drink spilt on the floor. He let out a pained grunt and tried to get up, but Loki was faster. He grabbed Tony’s neck and pulled him up again with ease as if a grown man weighed nothing at all.

Watching their fight unfold was intimidating. It was odd to see Loki so aggressive and angry when he had been so gentle with her. The look on Loki’s face radiated pure wrath. She watched as Loki flung Tony out of the window, just like that. He was falling to his death unless there was a miracle up his sleeve.

Despite siding with Loki, it was a frightening scene. Instinctively she ran toward the now smashed window and she looked down with her eyes wide open. A moment later, something flew right past her, nearly pushing her out of the window as well, and it chased the falling man. 

Y/N turned around to look at Loki who was now enveloped in his own bitterness. Once again, the negative energy didn’t radiate from Loki, but the sceptre. It had completely surrounded him.

“Are you okay?” Y/N wanted to know. She kept her distance. Would Loki actually use the sceptre on her? Didn’t he trust her already?

Loki wasn’t sure why she would ask that. The Chitauri army had arrived and they would both be free very soon. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

“You are not doubting me, are you?” Loki wondered. He cared for her, but he couldn’t have her as his enemy. It would ruin everything. Maybe, just maybe he could defeat the other Avengers, but not her. 

“No, I just-” She didn’t know what to say. Would he be upset if she pointed out how the sceptre affected him? “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

They were yet again cut off. Iron Man flew up to them and he was as good as new. They didn’t have a chance to wonder how he survived the fall as he shot a beam at Loki. 

“No!” Y/N yelled out in surprise, afraid he got hurt. For a moment, she was terrified that he had hurt Loki. Before Tony could hurt him again, she formed energy blasts around her hands. The energy of the sceptre was strong and she was delighted when he learned she could use it to strengthen her own powers. 

Tony was startled by the sight of her powers. His weapon was loaded and he was ready to shoot at Loki at any given moment, but he stalled, “You can still join us, Y/N. Whatever he promised you, it’s likely fake. You don’t have to do this.”

“Why would I want to help the people who kept me locked up for years?! You treated me like a villain!” She roared angrily, surprised by the outburst of emotion. Just a moment ago, she was much calmer but now the pain of her past bubbled in her veins. She wanted revenge even if it was the last thing she would achieve.  “Maybe it’s time for me to play the part.”

Loki had gotten up from the ground. Tony’s attack had barely scratched him, but it had taken him by surprise. He was ready to fight Tony, but he was interested in Y/N’s outburst. It came out of nowhere and he saw power in her that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. The energy around her only grew stronger and he knew the impact she would create would be merciless. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Tony almost sounded disappointed. Was he upset?

Y/N wasn’t. She unleashed the powerful blast right at him, and Tony was sent off with it, flying far away from them. For a moment, the heavy impact confused him. He was roaming back towards the ground for a while, but he saved himself just in time with the strong jets in his suit. Despite avoiding the impact with the ground, Tony had snapped his neck back so fast that it hurt him. For a moment, he felt incredibly light-headed.

Loki was impressed by this. He could only imagine how satisfying it must’ve been for her to get a taste of revenge on these people. 

“That was impressive,” he said it out loud for her to hear. Only then Y/N snapped out of her trance. 

She was shocked by her actions, but it was quickly replaced by joy. It felt so good to stand up for herself, even if the way she did it was wrong. “He deserved it,” Was all she could say. 

The agent suit she had worn earlier didn’t feel right. Although Y/N barely had any memories of her past, she could imagine Asgardian armour, all the gold and the beautiful, vibrant fabrics. With the help of her magic that she was slowly able to use again, she changed her outfit. The dull and dark skintight outfit was gone and she wore new armour. It resembled Loki’s in many ways, but it had her written all over it. A cape of her favourite colour seemingly grew out of nowhere until it cascaded down her shoulders. 

Loki lost his breath for a moment.

How did she recreate it? The last time he had seen her like that was on Asgard well over a century ago. 

When she stretched her arms to see the details of the armour and the suit beneath it, she felt delighted. It just felt so right. Everything fit her perfectly and it looked amazing. Then something strange happened. A flash of a memory from long, long ago surprised her. 

She saw herself in an unfamiliar place, a tall forest full of people. It smelled of smoke and fire, and the irony scent of blood. She saw many warriors in outfits that resembled what she was wearing. They were at war. In her memory, she was fighting someone on the ground. She had defeated her enemy and when she stood up, she saw Loki who was looking at her. The Loki in her memory seemed proud. He had dirt and blood on his face and his daggers were messy, but he looked just wonderful. It all ended as fast as it had begun.

“I haven’t seen you like that in a very long time,” Loki was the first one to break the silence. When had he walked right up to her?

“What do you mean?” 

“Your armour,” Loki glanced at the tiny details on her shoulder blades, “It’s exactly what you wore in battles back in the good old days.”

Even if she didn’t remember everything that happened, it seemed like the knowledge was still in her muscle memory. Somehow she just knew how to change into this gear. It felt so natural.  “Maybe it’s finally coming back?” 

“I certainly hope so,” The sincere and kind Loki was back. They were together and they had a mission to complete. “I really do.” 

“What are we going to do?” Y/N wondered. It was impossible to forget Tony’s threat. All of the Avengers were lurking right around the corner. 

Loki put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to walk with him to the balcony. There they took in the sight of the Chitauri army. It wasn’t a pleasant sight at all. There was destruction everywhere. Despite knowing the army wasn’t from this planet, it was fitting to humanity. Destruction and chaos was everywhere. 

“We must win this fight. Once the tesseract is with Thanos, I don’t know.”

She felt anxious just thinking about this Thanos person. “I don’t know?” She repeated his words, hoping he would elaborate. 

“My first plan had been to stay here. I didn’t know you would be here too, Y/N. That changed everything,” Loki admitted. The universe had put her on his path for a good reason, but he hadn’t figured out how to move on now. 

A quinjet flew around the building and Y/N saw Natasha’s familiar face. She was flying it with Clint, who was clearly his own self again. A moment later, Thor appeared with his mighty hammer. It looked like they were cornered, but they couldn’t possibly underestimate Loki and Y/N together. 

The sight of their enemies fueled both of them with energy. This was a fight for freedom. Without saying another word, Y/N got into action. She used her powers to leap from the balcony to the quinjet, taking Natasha and Clint by surprise. Loki went the other way to fight Thor, which he had waited to do for a while now. 

Being on top of the jet would’ve been terrifying if it wasn’t for the adrenaline that flowed through her veins. She held onto it tightly so they couldn’t shake her off the roof. 

Through the speakers on the quinjet, Natasha spoke, “You have one chance to abandon Loki’s side and fight with us!”

Were they serious?

Y/N allowed her suffering to form new energy blasts. She directed her power into the ship and when she let go of the energy, her power tore off the wing. Just like that, the quinjet lost its course and it was time for her to find a new ride. As they neared the ground at a dangerous pace, Y/N jumped off the ship. She landed on a stranger’s balcony safely as the quinjet continued its destructive path. 

There was no turning back now. 

                                      Loki had never fought Thor with such fiery hatred before. Not even when they fought back on Asgard. This was different. His negative feelings had doubled, either because of the time spent with Thanos, or because of the sceptre that fed his hatred. The mere sight of his so-called brother was enough to make his blood boil. 

They were throwing punches at each other. Despite how strong Thor appeared on the outside, he struggled to fight Loki. Thor tried to hit Loki with Mjolnir, which Loki gracefully dodged and then delivered his brutal blows. As Loki swung the sceptre at Thor’s face, they both stopped for a moment. Why didn’t Thor fight back?

The moment Loki stalled to wonder what was going on, Thor had Loki pushed against the wall, but instead of knocking him out, Thor attempted to reach the Loki he once knew. 

“Look at this!” Thor wanted Loki to truly see what he had caused. 

Loki didn’t know why he did it, but he listened to Thor. Thor yanked the sceptre out of Loki’s grasp so Loki couldn’t use it against him. He simply stood there and watched as the Chitauri army ruined buildings and spread terror among humanity. For a moment, Loki felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t what he wanted. He simply wanted to be free from his past, and this was the only way to make it happen. He wished it was that simple, that he could make it stop and not worry about what would happen next. But if he made this stop, surely Thanos would find Y/N. He would find everyone Loki had ever cared about even slightly and hurt them. It would all be on Loki. He couldn’t risk that.

“Do you think this madness will end with your rule?” Thor continued harshly.

His words reminded Loki of why he despised Thor. He always believed he was better with Loki, that Loki wasn’t capable of doing anything right in his life. It was the spark his anger needed to get over the heart-to-heart Thor attempted to have with him. 

“It’s too late,” Loki knew that deep in his heart. The portal was open, and he was so close to delivering the Tesseract to Thanos. If he stopped, and even if Thanos wouldn’t find him, there was no way Loki could walk away from this like nothing had ever happened. “It’s too late to stop it,” Loki explained and he wished he could’ve said it was too late to stop him. But Thor would never understand. 

“No,” Thor sounded hopeful. “We can, together. You, me and Y/N.”

Loki stared at Thor in shock. How did he dare to use her against him? Last time Loki checked, Thor stood like a trained dog by Odin’s side as Odin threatened to banish Y/N merely for existing. Thor had let her walk a path of heartache just to she could look good in Odin’s eye. When Y/N had been pronounced dead, Thor had barely remembered who she was. Thor didn’t give a damn about her unless it was for his benefit. 

“Sentiment,” Was all Loki could say as he used a dagger to push Thor off him. It sunk into his flesh through his thick armour, forcing Thor to take a step back, releasing Loki simultaneously. 

Loki watched as Thor groaned in pain on his knees. He knew it was twisted, but he hoped Thor felt half the pain that he felt. That he regretted speaking of Y/N like he actually cared about her. Loki knew a lie when he heard one. 

Before Thor could get up and fight him, Loki exited the scene. Ever so casually, he walked over the edge of the balcony. He only fell for a split second until he landed on a flying chariot. It was a smooth landing and he was happy to be far away from Thor, even if it would be for a few seconds. 

Right now, he wanted to find Y/N and make sure she was alright. He didn’t doubt her powers, but they were in a special situation. Perhaps Loki’s worst fear was that one of Thanos’ children had arrived in the city for some reason. There was no way he could let them find her. 

As he neared the ground, he saw people running away. Some were screaming, others were crying, some were frozen in shock. They looked at him like he was a monster. 

Loki noticed a child further away, lost or simply otherwise alone. He was crying and calling out for his mother who was nowhere to be seen. The sight made his stomach turn in a sick way. Loki might’ve wanted a glorious war, but not like this. Before a piece from a building could fall on the poor child, he stopped it by using his magic. He grabbed the huge chunk of the building with his magic and pushed it so it landed further away, avoiding the child completely. Instead of smashing the human child, it smashed an empty vehicle. As soon as he was done, he flew away, not bearing to witness the look on the child’s face. He wasn’t playing hero, but he certainly wasn’t there to harm people for fun.

                                           Unbeknownst to Loki, Y/N had been much closer than he anticipated. She returned to the Stark tower merely to find Loki. She wanted to make sure no one tried to close the portal. As much as she disliked the Chitauri, she knew Thanos must’ve been much worse. As she made her way up to the penthouse, she saw Thor. The sight of him made her regret going up there. Yes, she was powerful but so was he. And Thor was Asgardian. She wondered, had they met in the past? Before she could run the other way, Thor noticed her by the elevator and he marched toward her like an angry bull. She froze and decided to stay. Surely, she could fight him and his silly little hammer. 

“You can make him stop this!” Thor pointed at her with the Mjolnir. He genuinely thought she wasn’t on Loki’s side. She assumed he was the type of person to see the good in others, even when it didn’t exist. 

“Why would I do that?” Y/N decided to test him. It was a dangerous game but she wasn’t scared. It was exciting to see the shock on Thor’s face. He hadn’t expected to hear that from her mouth.

Thor had to let the words sink in for a moment. He had his suspicions of her when he first saw her. But so long ago, Thor had been told she was dead. He couldn’t possibly believe she was alive and in the Avengers project, fighting against Loki. 

But now when he saw her like that, in her armour, by Loki’s side via devotion, he was sure of it. It was the Y/N he knew of back then. And she was still connected to Loki. Breaking that commitment would be difficult, if not impossible. Thor knew he had to do this the hard way. 

“Do you really want to hurt these people?” Thor wondered. From what he remembered, she had been sweet and kind. Sure, a mighty warrior in battles but as a person, someone Loki had needed at the time and perhaps she had needed him too, just as much. Y/N had been so loving and Loki challenged her, in the best ways. They truly were soulmates, which was often times fantastic.

When soulmates teamed up and turned against others, it could be catastrophic. 

“People won’t get hurt if you stop fighting it,” Y/N was sure of it. Loki wasn’t here to hurt people for sport. He only had to keep the fight going on so no one could stop him from delivering the Tesseract to Thanos. 

“And then what? They would fall under Loki’s rule. Loki and humanity do not go well together!”

“Humanity sucks, Thor! They are cruel creatures who only care for themselves. Besides, Loki doesn’t want to rule this mess!” She was quick to bark back at him. Perhaps it had been the original plan, but Loki just told her he didn’t know what to do once it would all end. 

Thor seemed confused. If not to rule humanity, why would he start a war? 

Y/N continued, “We both just want to be free.”

“You can be free, if you stop this,” Thor tried his best to win her over with words. 

Y/N didn’t believe Thor for one second. That would be pathetic of her. Her trust had shattered a long time ago. Loki was different because he had something real to back up his words. 

To show Thor that she wasn’t having any of his tricks, she pulled out a weapon she hadn’t touched in a long time. Fishing it out from a pocket dimension, she grabbed it gracefully and smiled. It was her sword that had been her backbone in many situations before. 

“I won’t let you stop him, Thor.”

“And I can’t let you help him.”

“So be it,” Y/N was disappointed that even Loki’s own brother couldn’t understand. She was ready to fight. 

[Chapter 4]

A/N: Oh my god, I can’t believe how long it took me to continue this story. I’m so sorry! This year has simply been unbelievable. But I’m back at it again and I truly hope you can find some joy in this. If you do, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, even if you would simply smash your keyboard. Feedback makes my day and hearing from you guys inspires me so much. Have a great day 💚

Also there will definitely be more action and angry Loki in the next chapter. I just wanted some softness before the eventual chaos 👀

TAGS:  @lokislittlecorner @angelicwolf98 @iraniq  @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse @chipmunkchick @chimera4plums @myraiswack @grincheveryday @surprisinglyaestheticinfj @kinghiddlestonanddixon​ @subtlemalice​ @alfoos​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @strangemcuvlogs @green-valkyrie​  @i-have-arrived-bitch​ @alfoos​ @amwolowicz​ 

[fanfic-cave]

I also love some nice Angst with a hint of fluff in the end 😄 So how about after Sera told them about Umbara and what happened, she gets a really nasty nightmare about what happened there and this time the batch is there too and Hunter takes the place of her Captain and everything is even worse. Then Hunter wakes her up, comforts her with a cup of hot chocolate he hates because of the intense smell but makes it for her so she feels better. And they cuddle.

If this doesn't fit with the storyline just ignore this ask 😅

Just a Dream

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: OC x Hunter

Warnings: War Scenes, death, and trauma.

Summary: Sera relives her worst and last battle of the clones wars through a nightmare. When Hunter arrives as she wakes, Sera tries to confide in him.

Authors note: I've had this draft sitting for like ever im sorry it took so long, I get so perfectionist-y about my fanfics even though im trying to just do it for fun asdakljf anyways I thought this was nice so enjoy! Thank you for the ask! :)

P.S. I went full out on this and studied the war tactics and how it actually happened on Umbara, this is just like a snippet of the details that I had figured out! tags: @mangoberry99

“General!” Captain of the 401st ran to Sera. He had his blaster in hand, ready to fight despite the fact that they just crash landed.

“Yes?” The Jedi General, Sera, looked up from her work. She knelt over an injured clone trooper, trying to do what she could to ease his pain. Based on the charred hole in his body, he wasn’t going to make it.

“We only have stray survivors from our ships, casualties are high-“ Sera and the Captain both ducked as rocks flew over their heads from a nearby explosion.

Sera glanced around the field and calculated quickly. “We need to retreat. Try seeing if you can reach General Kenobi or Skywalker, they’re the only battalions we’re close to,” Sera’s Captain nodded in agreement as she spoke, reaching for his comms.

“I’ll round up the survivors and try to find the best direction to retreat.” The dark planet's sky lit up with more enemy fire from the Umbarans. Sera’s face and the Captains helmet were lit up from the brightness. They only stared at each other in silence for a brief moment as the Umbara sky ignited above them. Sera’s expression was somber, and while she couldn’t see the Captains face, she knew his expression mirrored hers under the helmet. Neither of them liked their odds right now.

The heavy fire landed, exploding the nearby ships. Blood curdling screams came from the same direction. A sense of urgency filled Sera as she heard the screaming. “I’m counting on you, Sharp!” Sera began to turn away, yelling to Captain Sharp over her shoulder. “Yes Sir,” The Captain nodded, already working with the comm unit in hand. Sera glanced down to the clone she had been trying to heal moments ago. He was frozen, his head slumped and body limp.

The Jedi forced herself to continue, telling herself she can mourn once the battle is over. She had to save whoever she could now. “Troopers!” She yelled across the field, looking at a group of clones who were taking cover behind a flipped air transport. Their heads perked up from across the battlefield, and some hopeful expressions appeared as they saw their General. Sera squinted, then her eyes widened when she saw Wrecker was among the soldiers now, throwing scrap metal towards the enemy tanks. Tech suddenly flickered into existence, taking cover behind the same transport. One of the soldiers that had turned to Sera now saluted her. His arm was prosthetic, and the soldier suddenly morphed into Echo.

Sera shook her head, then suddenly something felt off and a sensation tugged at her gut. She froze. She knew it was the force, and it was a warning. Her eyes widened and turned to look toward the enemy lines.

Umbaran airships whizzed by and began firing down on the survivors. She looked to the surviving soldiers with a horrified expression. The Umbarans fire landed right in the center of her men, and she only heard their screams before her vision blacked out.

Sera got thrown back far, her body slamming to the ground hard. While her head snapped back and hit the rocky terrain, she felt her troopers' lives get instantly snuffed out from the heavy fire that rained from above. It felt like cotton filled her brain, her body not responding to her quickly enough. She opened her eyes, and tried to gather whatever strength she had left in herself and through the force that flowed through her. She rolled over to her side, and felt blood coming down her forehead.

Once she rolled over, she saw a soldier's charred body not too far away. He held a rifle in his hand, and she recognized the tattoo marks on his eye that formed a Crosshair.

Sera looked away from the disturbing sight, then tried sitting up. She halted her movement, then gasped and gripped her side. She had felt a sharp pain, and looked to see blood was on her hands. Her vision began to get cloudy, blood dripping into her eyes from an open wound on her head.

“General,” the whisper cut through the haze, and she recognized the voice immediately.

She ignored the pain and crawled over, seeing her Captain sprawled body lying feet from her. “Captain-“ Seras voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak more, the sight of his broken body stealing her voice away. More flashes lit up the sky, and more fire came from the enemy’s tanks and airships. She squeezed her eyes tight. This can’t be happening. It’s just a dream.

“General-“ Sharp coughed weakly. He brought Sera back to the scene before her. She let the tears fall and she sat up as best she could, reaching to grab ahold of his bloodied hand.

“Stay with me Captain.” She forced herself to speak, and tried to sound confident. She tried to sound like the General these men deserved, not the one that had just failed them. He reached and lifted up his helmet.

Sera saw it was Hunter's face that was underneath the Captain's helmet, and he squeezed her hand tight. She sobbed quietly, letting the tears fall.

This isn’t how it happened

“Hunter, stay with me.” She remembered speaking this sentence before, the words came out forcefully and with passion just like they had the first time.

“It was an honor, General.” The words that had been spoken by Sharp came out of Hunter's mouth, now in his voice too instead of the Captains. Sera only sobbed harder.

“No! Not you, no no,”

The light left his eyes and his hand stopped gripping hers.

————

Sera awoke in bed, gasping for air. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, trying to remember where she was.

He’s dead. They're all dead.

The door to her bedroom opened, and someone came through. Sera didn’t look up, but kept her fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, gripping her head tightly.

“Sera!” Hunter's smokey voice echoed through the room as he ran in, his vibroknife in hand. Sera kept staring down, trying to recall where she was and how she wasn’t injured. She pressed a hand to her side and felt no pain.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt?” He looked around, trying to find a threat.

“I-“ Sera couldn’t get another word out, and she tried to steady her breathing. Her memories started to come back to her now that she was awake.

It was just another nightmare. Everyone in clone force 99 is alive.

“I'm sorry, it was just a dream.” Sera's voice came back to her and she looked up to Hunter. His hair was messy, the bandana still in its rightful place though, and he wore his blacks.

He relaxed, then set the knife down on an end table, and looked down at her. He took in the scene, Sera shuddering in the bed, coated with sweat, breathing shakily. His expression softened as he began to comprehend what had happened. “A nightmare.” It didn't quite sound like a question when he said it, but Sera still nodded in confirmation.

Hunter looked away, placing a hand on his chin as he thought hard for a moment. Then an idea came to him and he looked up to Sera. “Will you be okay if I go for just a minute?”

Sera examined his expression. His eyes didn’t waver from her, and he waited patiently for her answer. She could tell that if she asked him to, he would stay with her no questions asked.

“Go, I’ll be okay.” Sera tried to smile and nod. She still felt herself shaking a bit, and she knew the smile probably wasn't convincing. Hunter nodded back and slipped out of the room.

While Hunter was gone, Sera sat herself up in the bed and tried to get more comfortable. She wiped away the layer of sweat that covered her forehead, and took slow, deep breaths. Her dream felt just like what happened on Umbara, it was almost a perfect replay, like the other times she had this nightmare. The difference this time was that the bad batch was there too, dying alongside her soldiers. But they’re alive, she reminded herself.

Sera’s thoughts were interrupted when Hunter opened the door, and held a steaming cup in his hand. His nose was wrinkled a bit, but he managed to maintain a normal expression otherwise. “Here.” He handed it to Sera. She looked curiously, and then took the cup. She instantly felt it’s warmth, and recognized it was Hot Coco.

“Hunter, you didn’t have to do that.” Sera looked at the cup gratefully. She knew the smell of the drink bothered him, ever since she made it for herself the first time she stayed aboard the havoc marauder. After seeing how it irritated Hunter's senses, she never drank it around them anymore.

Hunter shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal. She could see his nose was still wrinkled, and turned away from the cup. “You’ve had a bad night. I know you like drinking this when you can’t sleep, Echo told me.”

Sera would’ve denied it if he hadn’t mentioned Echo, but it was true. Sera and Echo both had a habit of being insomniacs, and sometimes the two would pass by each other on a shared sleepless night, and sometimes they would keep eachother company

Sera sighed and decided not to fight Hunter on this. Despite what the clone thought, the Coco smelled amazing to her, and the warmth she felt from gripping it was inviting. “Thank you.” Sera quickly took a few sips, which turned into a few gulps of the chocolate drink. Hunter chuckled as she easily downed the drink.

“You're welcome.” He smiled and looked away, then sat at the edge of Sera’s bed. After she finished, she set the drink on her nightstand, just by her bed. She saw Hunter's knife was sitting just next to her now finished cup. She decided to reach for it, bringing it to her lap as she held it in her hands.

Hunter watched her fiddle with his knife, and decided to speak up. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her. Sera looked up and met his eyes. He was leaning back on his hands, and she could tell he didn’t want to push her.

“Just bad memories.” She answered briefly, then looked back down to the knife. She held the point at the tip of her finger. Her brow furrowed as the memories flickered in her mind, and she mindlessly fiddled with the blade, scraping the tip of it on her fingers. Hunter's hand came over hers, and her eyebrows came up, slightly surprised. She didn’t move.

“We all have bad memories from the war.” Hunter opened her hand and took the knife away gently. After it left her hands, she squeezed her now open hand into a fist. She nodded at his words.

Sera had these dreams so many times, too many times to count. She’s even had these nightmares while traveling with the group of rogue clones. Something was different this time though. She didn’t have someone here when she awoke from the bad dreams.

Sera’s chest felt tight as the emotions began to overwhelm her. Despite not following the Jedi code anymore, She still found herself in the habit of trying to have no attachments. Being attached to her soldiers, her men, it’s what hurt her the most when they died. But here they were, more clones once again breaking her walls down.

Hunter's arm came around Sera’s shoulder, and she easily leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re safe now, Sera.” Hunter squeezed Sera’s shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Hunter turned his face a bit to eye her suspiciously. “You’re worried about us?”

Sera didn’t look at him. It felt like history was repeating itself. Sera finding more clones, joining arms with them, creating a close bond with them. There was only one thing left to make both of these stories the same.

No more deaths.

Hunter's chuckle brought Sera’s attention back to what was happening. “You know we can handle ourselves, right?” He was genuinely amused at the idea of Sera being worried about them.

“That was part of my nightmare.” Sera lowered her voice when she spoke, just breathing the words out.

Hunter didn’t laugh at that. Sera closed her eyes, and pressed her face into Hunter's shoulder. Hunter frowned at this, beginning to see how real her fear was.

“Hey,” Hunter shifted, moving so he could see her face. Sera lifted her face up when Hunter moved his shoulder away.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Hunter looked Sera dead in the eyes, both hands on her shoulder. He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re stuck with us as long as you’ll have us.” The corners of his mouth turned up a bit as he finished his sentence.

Starting to feel a surge of emotions come, Sera put her arms around Hunter and pulled him into an embrace. He wasn’t expecting it, but easily returned the gesture. He had gotten used to hugging more with her, and easily patted her back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Sera breathed into Hunter's ear. Hunter froze for a moment, then straightened himself up and pulled away.

“Alright mesh’la, lay down and try to sleep.” Hunter gently grabbed onto Sera’s shoulders and started guiding her back down onto the bed.

“Mesh what now?” Sera yawned as she spoke. She didn’t know mando’a, except for picking up on some of the insults crosshair would direct to her occasionally.

“Sleep.” Hunter ordered, ignoring her question.

Despite wanting to argue, Sera’s eyes felt heavy, and she willingly laid back down on the bed. A few minutes passed, with Hunter staying diligently at the edge of the bed. He listened to her breathing, and glanced at her occasionally. He waited to be sure no signs of another nightmare came, and that Sera would sleep soundly. Once he was confident she was fast asleep, Hunter planned to quietly leave the room and go back to sleep.

Once he shifted though, he felt fingers grip his wrist. He turned to glance at Sera. She wasn’t awake, but when he moved she reached out and grabbed him. Hunter tried to peel her fingers off, but she shifted in the bed, only tightening her grip.

Who knew she could get so attached?

Hunter gave up on leaving, already entranced by watching her sleep. He did, however, feel too uncomfortable with sitting on her bed any longer, so he instead reached over to a chair just a few feet away and pulled it up. He settled in, leaving his arm on the bed that Sera would not release. The chair and his body were parallel to the bed, and he continued to watch her carefully, ready to chase away any nightmares that came.

[sebsunset]

Creation, Both Haunted and Holy - CHAPTER 2!

I’ve been working on this thing for weeks straight, to make it as amazing as possible!

As always, I am dragging @muffinlance‘s AUs into my work

this is the angsty one :) yUP, the year-old au!

and don’t worry, i have another one in progress... also using a muffinlance- inspired au- one of the more obscure ones, i think!

Mother Hama is. Suspiciously nice to write, and very angsty

TRIGGERS: Graphic-ish descriptions of wounds and child abuse! Please beware, my dudes! Things will get better soon, but this is really really bad right now!

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578904

OR, READ HERE :) 

In the moon’s light, an urutau-vulture screeches out its song, pure and eerie grief ringing out in the wind.

And that’s how Zuko’s mind briefly comes back to reality.

Awareness fading in and out with each breath he wheezes through.

With wakefulness, comes the purest of agonies. A mouth open, voice too hoarse to scream out for help.

The hot pain, all over him, the memories tugging at his head, the memories of-

The burning. A cleanse that felt so dirty, like-

Oh, the sheer smell of it-

Of him.

The smell of cooked meat is his.

He wheezes out a cough, remembers the time Mom had no servants to help her, and had asked Azula to light up the fire for them to cook.

He tries thrashing about, to get a good view.

Mom ought to be around there, around somewhere.

(Even if it’s been so long since she was last around.)

She must be there, somewhere he can’t see, maybe in the blurry shade of the trees. She will bring a bucket and cool water, and she will hold him and-

“W-Where’s mom?” he tries asking, to nothing, to no one.

But only one of his ears hear it, the raspy, damaged sound that he can hardly recognize as his own voice.

He tries to ask again, words broken, tear tracks he can only feel in one cheek.

The burning pain he struggles to breathe over.

He doesn’t know what happened, but he can’t move. Can’t do anything, nothing but begging for it to go away.

“Where?” his voice comes out, finally.

The pain in his throat finally registers with the blabbered words, and suddenly he feels like he’s been screaming for all too long.

I’m sorry, Larva, says the feeling of hands on him. I’m so sorry it came to this.

Ghostly hands that don’t quite hurt when they touch his left side.

There is no shadow to hold him, though.

He can’t remember what happened, but the questions come to his mind nonetheless.

Why does it hurt so much? Why is his arm numb, why can’t-

Go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe, little Vessel.

The voice is soft, warm.

And, as the moon sings her song, his brief moment of awareness fades off.

Only one eye closing, as he breathes out again.

Painful, laboral.

His last thought is that he hates it.

The tone in the voice.

It’s all too-

.

.

.

-

It’s in the way the moon sings, as the boy’s skin peels off.

It’s in the way he doesn’t let any infection set in.

Scabbing away as the days pass, as Vaatu tries to heal him.

But there’s a reason the two of them were together. Glued, some might say.

Possessed, united fully.

He is part of Zuko, he is his mind and he is confined, locked away from seeking any further help. Not while the boy is that hurt, not while he can’t be awake and alive on his own.

Were it not a tragedy of occasion, his tendency to lock himself in the tiniest confides would be quite entertaining to watch.

Maybe, were it not happening to him, of all creatures.

Truly, he has been reduced to cowering on corners, to being not much more than a shadow.

Was it selfish, to wish for freedom when he had given it up to save his Vessel?

The two of them had done it.

An Avatar State of their own volition.

A sacrilege against the nature of a human body, a way to twist and bend their souls, braided together into a necklace of rope.

He doesn’t want to tell his boy what happened.

What the two of them had done.

He was too young to know what their purpose really was.

What would happen next, once he managed to get Zuko awake for more than a few minutes, enough time for them to scavenge, to do anything?

But keeping him awake, at that moment, would be nothing short of insane.

Yes, he must change. But this is too painful. Vaatu can feel the pulsing, the infection begging to seep in, to eat away at their flesh.

The way the dead limb hangs limply, charred black. The way the damaged leg attracts flies, like a plate of fruit slathered in honey, only kept away by him.

Blisters that look like they could open into eyes, watch the world for them all.

And so, Vaatu brushes off the sickness, scares away the vermin.

Lets his presence seep through, for nothing can keep him from affecting the world, not even being tied so deeply to his vessel.

The woods grow around them, thick foliage, colorful flowers in the vines.

No other spirit to bless or curse them.

Just the lonesome pocket of the world to which Vaatu and his Vessel have gone.

He is the eye of the shadow, the chaos that lurks deep in that tiny, undisturbed piece of the world.

He is a warning to the creatures.

He warns the world to stay away, lest it feel his disruption. His returning strength, his effect on the world around them finally taking place again.

Now that they are united, he can see that they could easily become unstoppable.

Rotting limbs thrown into any position, blackened flesh still smelling like it's been cooked.

The way it all brews in the two of them is nauseating.

The sickness is in the bursts of consciousness, when the one eye that can close opens up, blurry from tears.

When his head faces up and he sobs, lonesome and in pain.

Vaatu tries keeping the pain at bay, even if just by lulling him to bed.

Their vengeance is yet to be completed.

Disaster will strike again, he will make sure of it.

He tries telling, he tries consoling.

We will come back, he says. Rest for now, their fate is incoming.

But he is just a voice in his head, the feeling of a ghost-limb that can't really pull back hair, brush away feverish sweat.

Even if their Vessel is growing more powerful, Vaatu feels as weak as he can be.

But, as consciousness slips away again, he can’t help but notice the way the world is shifting around them.

The way the rabbit-mice has started chasing the otter-fox.

It is a victory, but it feels wrong.

-

Unsteady feet, weight put all into one as Zuko drags himself up.

The pain is hot and hard, it almost drives away the overwhelming hunger.

He didn’t think it could get that bad.

It could be worse, Vaatu says, but his voice still sounds angry.

Maybe not at him, but angry nonetheless.

(Angry like-)

When coherency slips away from his mind, when the pain is too much, as each of his slow, measured hops grows more and more exhaustive, he feels something in him beg for destruction.

But he won’t.

In the same way that Vaatu won’t bring him food, in the same way he will stay quiet, never saying a word of what happened to him.

Zuko wants to proclaim that he isn’t forgiven, but for the moment, his focus is on the steps.

Barely more than hops, as his one useful hand hangs onto trees.

Bare feet, grass scratching up against the angry, still-bleeding skin.

The question is pressing, rubbing against the back of his mind, as he cries out and whines, intense pain barely dimmed.

How is he alive?

All firebenders are taught about the sheer power of their fire, about the great deeds and prowesses they can achieve.

About how much damage they can inflict upon their enemies, when they chose not to end their suffering.

It should be infected.

I am trying not to let that happen, Vaatu whispers in his head, like it's a secret, like saying it out loud will destroy their chances of it getting any better.

 He isn’t moving in the shadow.

“The left side feels green.” he says, barely noticing he’s speaking at all.

Sunlight streams in through the gaps in the foliage. The moon is going to rise up soon, and the world is orange and it all feels green.

Find help, the voice instructs. You need someone to help you.

“First, food.” he argues, hearing the rumbling of his stomach. “I mean- Where there is food, there are people.”

You make a surprisingly decent point, he says, and there ought to be some farmhouses around here.

Zuko shudders.

People watched back there, people saw his shame burned into skin, his last rite of passage.

His whining sounds pitiful to his own head, but he can’t make his mouth shut up.

Involuntary sounds, flinches and shudders, as he drifts through.

Tall grass scraping against his wound, every touch sending new jolts of it.

The gentle breeze, the falling petals of flowers, blown away by the wind.

All so gentle. The kind pulsing of the world’s fiery heart, a piece of peace in the battlefield of its little nations.

And all so, so very painful.

Maybe this tells more than it shows, but pain is hard to show through words, hard to show through barely coherent thoughts, by the mind of a child who had never been through such great agony before.

A bad leg that can’t sustain his weight much longer.

Tiny complaints amidst panting.

He feels like he is the only source of noise. The world is eerily still.

Holding its breath.

Zuko shudders, tree bark scraping at tiny hands.

He looks down on himself.

A foot half-blackened. White and violent red, all blistered and-

Cooked. Broken.

Zuko doesn’t look at his left arm.

He is all too broken, all too destroyed by the time he’s been through.

You aren’t, says the voice.

Scabs that peel away too easily, like they were never meant to form.

Droplets of blood calling for any animal. He is prey, and the world is so, so very much now.

The disorganization of the world doesn’t manage to feel quite right, quite how it should be.

Like someone’s disrupted it before, like they’ve re-organized the world into something it shouldn’t be.

Something hangs in the air, hidden but never overshadowed by the smell of his tracks.

Yes, deliberate.

They’re onto something, he realizes.

A pike of wood, somewhere from which a scarecrow once stood.

“A garden.” he says. “I think we’ve found a garden.”

Purring at the back of his head, his blurry eye half-focusing around him.

A bush at the entrance.

Calling to him.

Food.

It has to be food.

Overtaken by hunger, he can only see them.

The rest of the garden is just carrots, little beets and a cabbage or two.

Nothing that looks that sweet.

And so, Zuko drops down, hisses in pain and twitches about, before grabbing a handful of berries in his one hand.

Vaatu takes a minute too long to realize they’re the kind used to make rat poison.

-

Her abode is a humble one.

A tiny inn she’s set up, rooms rarely occupied.

Of course, she has other places for travelers to sleep in.

It’s her lair, made of damp wood, of floorboards that creak comfortably under her old feet. Of roofs that leak, of the smell of a harmless old person.

She has a thousand little closets, a million nooks and crannies.

Hidden memorabilia, memories she’s carved back up for herself.

All wheatered by rain and by soot, but kept clean and tidy, far away from the fire.

She didn’t have many clients, but she had more than enough time to tend to the ones she had.

And so she did, for a time.

She kept herself satisfied, working towards her goals day in and out.

Followed through with a routine, day in and day out. Cooked plenty for herself, made sure she had the energy to follow through with her tasks.

That night, she can feel the full moon.

A welcome presence above her, making the world pulse with her divinity.

She has blessed the woman with her presence, and so, that night, she will go…

Watch the moon.

It’s a nice way to talk about the indulgence in her favourite of all things.

When she can make the world malleable around her, when she can dance and sing, pulling at the strings that bind the world together.

She smiles, feels it pull at her eyes.

That night will be formidable, she thinks

With finality, she treks along.

Yet, she doesn’t feel alone.

How can she, when the full moon rises, making the world finally feel alive again?

 The leaves crackling under her feet as she strides, the roots and branches snapping under her like she is a mighty beast.

Remainders of the sun’s warmth slowly seeping out, Tui taking her rightful place in the throne of the sky.

Her court of stars, rising slow and steady in its march.

And the world is silent around her. She knows it ought to be gawking at her, the last of her kind.

“Oh?” comes out of her mouth, before she can even stop herself.

An ear strained out.

“What is that…” she tsk-s in amusement, looks around with a half-absent mind.

Just what poor creature dares it, to choke in her garden, to foam over the leaves of her poison, to die in Hama’s territory?

-

Wakefulness comes slowly.

 His brow furrows in confusion, only half his vision able to focus.

But he doesn’t need to.

All Zuko sees is darkness.

He shivers, suddenly hit with the sheer cold of the room.

It's eerie.

He doesn’t know where he is.

He lashes out, trashes about.

His feet burn. Tied together with rope.

There are no windows, the space cramped. The sickeningly sweet smell of mold, the only sound meeting his ears, his own panting.

Like a piece of bread that’s been left hanging around for all too long.

Something is wrong.

It’s in the way his tongue feels garbled when he tries to talk, it’s in the way he can’t quite move.

It’s in the involuntary twitching of a dead limb, that he can’t stop, even when it hurts.

He can’t sit up, wouldn’t even if the dizziness would let him.

Vessel, are you okay? comes to his head.

Why didn’t you stop me, he tries asking. Where are we? Why are we here?

There are no little hands in the shadows, no feeling of a ghost hand touching him.

But the pain is dulled, pushed back.

Cloaked.

“Where am I?” he looks around. “Va-Voice, where are we?”

Someone brought us here, Larva. Get up,  I’m curious.

“Then move on your own.” he spits. “I’m tied up. Stupid.”

Regret makes him shake his head, but Vaatu is too old to hold up a grudge.

I can’t. We are united now, Larva. We are one in the same, and wherever you go, I go too.

“Chained?” he remembers. Like he is. Stuck, chained.

Chained. But fret not, my Larva, for stagnation will not come back to us. For now, though, you shall recover your energies.

A groan, as he lifts his hand, swipes a bug from his brow.

You sound like Uncle goes unsaid, but leaves the taste of bile on his mouth nonetheless.

Shudders, head shakes. The feeling of strands of patchy hair brushing against his shoulder.

He may not be alone, but there's no armor, no protection.

Zuko shivers, suddenly cold.

A part of him would give anything for that surge of power, for the feeling of the elements at his will, ready to be summoned up, to be harnessed and used as he deems fit.

For anything that can protect him, even with the collateral damage.

He can’t do anything, but he struggles to turn to his side nonetheless, to crawl out of the pile of rags that was his bed.

He can’t get up, so he drags his body along, pulls it slowly.

A trail of blood from his left side, scraped against the floorboards.

Dragged by his hand, whining and growling.

He can’t untie himself, no matter how much he tries.

Some kind of different knot - intricate, woven tight.

Vaatu guides him slowly, words that barely register to his mind.

Nausea, the feeling of ants crawling at the tips of his fingers as he drags himself to the door.

Get to the door - away from the fabric, it burns too easily - and then you can burn through the rope.

And suddenly, he wants to scream.

“I’m not burning myself. Shut up!” he plops onto his right side, drool pooling at the left corner of his mouth.

Beyond his control.

You know how to control the heat. It wouldn’t hurt. It's like pulling a bandage.

“Shut up.” he tries screaming, but his voice comes off hoarse.

… I apologize. I understand your fear, Vessel.

“I’m not forgiving you.”

I won’t let you stagnate for long, but feel free to stand your ground for a few more days.

“I’ll give you a week.” A bit of snark, that comes off soft.

A dry chuckle that breaks through the darkness.

He rolls his eyes, but can’t bring a smile up. He knows it would hurt. It would sting on his face, it would pull at the burns.

He reaches the door, struggles onto his knees, pulls at the handle.

Rattled, shaken, pulled and pushed with the feeblest of strengths.

Breaths growing quicker, as the weight of what he had done sets onto his shoulders.

Oh, what he did-

You should’ve eaten your vegetables, comes out as a light-hearted attempt, falling so very short.

“Shut up.” he wants to yell, because he’s locked in a strange home and oh Agni-

It’s dawning on him, slowly and steadily, just what he did.

Just what happened.

He hurt them.

(He did much worse.)

Falls to the floor. Looks at his one hand.

Now only one. Covered with little burns, old marks of his failures set onto his wrists. Little reminders of hands that were once there.

His breath, puffing out as smoke in the dark, cold room.

And suddenly, tears are falling down onto his hand.

(Father did that.)

No voice to comfort him. Nothing but the oppressiveness of his lonesome state.

Zuko wants to drown in tears, but his left eye refuses to cry, his bony body refuses to shake with sobs just yet.

So he just shrinks in there, holds himself close through the pain, pretends someone else is there to hold him.

"W-why?" He asks, feeling only half of his mouth move.

Words coming out garbled, blabbered through tears.

No answer comes, and he feels all alone.

He is a big boy, he wants to remind himself.

A big boy indeed, and that's why he cries and cries and cries, ignoring how the hollow place of the moon is soon filled by Agni’s eye.

-

The walks back home tend to be a less than exciting ordeal.

Oh, of course there's glee. Catharsis, even.

But lately, there’s some more than that. There’s the weight of the years on her shoulders, the soreness on her legs, the ache engraved deep into her bones.

That’s the vengeance of her people, of the men and women slain, torn down from the inside, overtaken by insanity.

She was meant to do it. It was why the art had come to her, it was why she had mastered it.

To bring down the rain of vengeance.

Nonetheless, that particular walk was made through with a quicker step, with a less vengeful head.

She had spent so long hurting, and the ones who hurt were the ones who learned how to heal the best.

She knew where to make it ache, and she had studied plenty of how to heal before.

(Kanna and her, studying scrolls that would be burned less than a day later, until late at the night.

Listening to the tribe's men sing and dance around the campfire, laughing and betting. Rolling their eyes, t hey healed eachother with little kisses by the moonlight, as Hama listened to Tui's song, to the calling of the full moon.

And with her friend's mittened hand in hers, she closed her eyes and felt the warm pulse of a world suddenly coming to life.

In the night's light, the cold wind whipping against their warm bodies, they danced together.

A dance that would soon turn into brisk movements, into desperate jabs.

But, at the moment and to that very day, the times before were painted with a rose-tinted glass.)

What mattered was that she had a patient, someone hurt as badly as she once was.

A son of ash and soot, a child with an eye burned open, blinded but still moving.

A child whose mere existence, whose life was astounding to her. How could that little thing keep going, how could he crawl to her and lay by her grassbed?

A little creature that proved her either insane or lucky enough to have a spirit in her hands.

He was going to be useful, she had decided when she found him foaming at the mouth, turning and twisting, rubbing dirt all over the open wound.

She’d cleaned him up, she had left him a nice little room, for an ashmaker that had yet to pay her back.

He would be grateful, that was certain.

And she’d seen first hand, how gratitude could destroy a man. Break down his flesh, make him bow and worship like a dog.

(She'd stood, suspended in her cell, watching an affair below.

The guard with bright yellow eyes, a glint like that of golden daggers, pointed towards her favorite prisoner.

A young woman, barely more than a girl.

She was from a neighboring tribe. Beautiful button nose and plump lips, bowing down low, foreign words slipping off her tongue.

She was meant to sing to the moon and the sea, but she sung their tribe’s songs upon anyone’s request. Danced as well as she could, tied up in chains.

A slap to the back of her head, something in the dirty ashmaker's speech.

A correction, two apologies delivered in a low bow.

Forgiveness in the form of a plump bowl of jook and not much else.)

Her garden blooms around her.

What little use she could make of the soil there. Little plants, poisonous berries. Nothing too beautiful or lavish. She was just a humble old woman, afterall.

She’d been nice, asked around the village. Seeds, some tools. She was sweet and defenseless, and nobody ever dared suspect her to her face.

The village had never been a tribe.

And the house she lived in had always been just that. A house. Some might stretch it and call it a lair.

Not quite a home, as much as she tries to keep it cold, to make it feel like one when she closed her eyes, and look like one when she dared open them up.

That place is still a land of fire. Lava below her, the sun all too hot, not a single break in his wicked reign.

She misses the polar winters. They’d always been so good for weeding out the weak and the fiery alike.

Perhaps her glasses are tinted blue, contrasting all too sharply against the blood-red of that place.

But the point still stands in her mind. That place is no real home.

It doesn't have the foundations to be one.

It doesn't have the people to make it one.

There’s no Kana or Panuk or any of the children running about. There is no tribe to embrace her, no new stories to tell around the campfire. No dealings with the neighbors, and no polar-bear sled dogs to lead to the market every month.

There’s only the oppressive loneliness of a single person lost in the sea of snakes.

But for now, she can rejoice in the luxury of a new toy. One that can be mended, sewn and filled up with the truth. A child of ash, all hers.

(Malleable as the water she’d once sculpted into ice.)

Slow footsteps, steady smile. A bit of excitement, despite the bits of a lazy cat in her demeanor.

The doors of the inn, all open and empty.

Until the locked closet.

It’s their smallest room. It’s perfect for someone that small, that frail.

A plant left in a pot too big will soon spread, grow out of control.

If he grows up well enough, if his leaves twist and bend and his roots stretch out as he tries to reach the sun, she will put him on a leash.

Hama had been wanting something to keep her entertained.

-

He sobs and heaves and nearly vomits once or twice.

Snot and bile, no comfort, no caress.

Not a word amidst the fit. Nothing that he can hear, nothing that can make itself noted in his mind.

His body hurts, but there is no infection to take him away, to lend him a hand.

He can’t think straight. Repulse fills his throat whenever he thinks of himself, whenever he opens his eye for enough time to truly see himself.

And he can’t do this, he thinks.

Like any child does, he slips into a spiral, falls down and down.

Thoughts swirling in his head, screams that his throat can't force out.

Until something breaks through, snaps him out of it.

The sound of a door creaking open.

A tiny stream of the morning’s light drifts into the room, so gentle yet so bright, revealing dust that doesn’t quite form bunnies and mold growing on the walls of a cramped closet.

The decrepit coldness is suddenly accentuated, with the gentle warmth that hits his back.

He shudders, suddenly, as the light is taken away.

When he turns, a figure stands, back-lit in the doorway.

Old and hunched, his blurry eyes barely able to focus on anything but her kind smile.

He turns to her, ready to question why she left his legs tied up, why she locked him there, how long he'd been alone, what she wants to do now-

“Are- Are you-” he tries stuttering out a question, but suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t know just what he wants to ask.

She comes closer, looks down upon him.

“Bow down and ask, young one.” she says, gently. “Be respectful of this old woman, won’t you?”

Vaatu growls at the back of his head, and, for a second, he forgets that his friend is simply locked inside his mind, with no real effect on the world once they’re not alone.

So, he breathes in deep, pretends there’s nothing wrong inside him.

And drops down in a rigit bow, so the kind woman won’t burn him.

“I am Hama. Who are you?” a cane pokes his burnt side, the arm that’s no longer there.

Deep breath. He knows who he is, and so will she.

“I’m Zuko. Son of-”

“Nobody.” she says. The harsh word startles him, slipped in such a gentle voice. “Not anymore. Not after what happened to you.”

He tries again.

“Zuko, son of P-”

A poke from the cane, right in a blister. He flinches and hisses, unable to stop himself.

“You are a son of nobody.” she says, her voice sweet as the smell of moldy grain. “After all that must’ve happened to you, it’s better as that. Poor thing.”

That silence lasts for a few seconds, before her voice returns, kinder, to his sight of nothing but fetid floorboards.

 “Now, young one, tell me, what have they done to you?”

He won’t say. He won’t speak out again.

Not when Vaatu hisses, pure in his anger, taking over his head.

“Don’t you think you owe me that, after all I’ve helped you with?” a cane pokes his head, gently thumping against his skull. No real intention for pain, not on his bad side.

He gulps down something.

A single tear hits his lip, salty against the bitterness in his mouth.

Why does he cry? Why do the tears betray his mind, why does his gut feel so raw?

“I- I was burned.” he says.

“That I can see.” she says, gently. “Now come on, darling. I must know your affliction to heal you.”

“I was burned and banished.” he says. Words spilling out dirty and fetid and spat out like falling teeth.

But he tells no more. Hopefully, she won't see any tales of spirits, any curses or blessings to destroy.

(What if she wants to cleanse him, too?)

“Oh, dear.” she says, voice perfect in compassion.

Be careful, Vessel, Vaatu says in his head. His voice no longer a hiss, just a thought at the back of his mind. Do not trust her. Do not.

“That is very unfortunate.” she says. “Then, you aren’t Zuko, are you? As a banished boy, you have no name.”

“I- I still have my honor.” is the only defense he can give her.

And she laughs.

It would be warm, infectious as any other disease, were it not happening at that moment, when he felt raw and when his vulnerability was so easy to turn into anger.

“I am Hama, and you are Nobody.”

This is the point where the scene should end. Here, it should all fade away to silence, to maybe a sob or two, a twitch or whine at his own discomfort, until he is instructed to get up.

But please, remember just who we are talking about.

Nothing ends when or how it should, down here.

“B-But-” he tries stammering out, his heart thundering in his chest. His voice can’t come out as a scream, but it tries.

Maybe, a part of him thinks, his voice will be heard then.

She pokes him again, straight at the ribs.

“Nobody.” she says. “Nobody, with that attitude.”

If only she knew, he wanted to say.

Be nobody, Vaatu whispers, locked inside his head.

Zuko wants to fight. He wants to bite and gnash and destroy, to bend and twist and fall upon that state again, that state that made him-

“Not nobody,” he says. “I- I’ll prove to you. I’m not nobody. I swear on my honor.”

He can feel her smile.

“Son of nobody, then.” she says. “But make good on that promise, please.”

Hissing in his head, he looks up.

Tap, straight at a hollowed-out cheek.

“Stay down.” she says. “The light might hurt your eyes, so keep down low, son. I’ll get you something to eat.”

-