#can't wait for an infinitely worse repeat of that!

[princess-of-purple-prose]

If you guys think I'm spamming naruto content now (which, yeah, I am), then you are so not gonna enjoy it when I finish the series and unleash the ~50 meta/fanart posts I've saved on a different blog's drafts. Ahahahaha. Oh no

[ameiniateria]

@sixteenth-day-event

Prompts: twisting the knife + a silent grave

(fic under the cut)

Sam is dead.

His corpse is propped up stiffly against the black wall, on the other side of the lava dividing them both. On one side, the prisoner, screaming and begging and bleeding out for the entertainment of a man with a gold toothed grin and a seemingly infinite amount of silky white dress shirts. On the other, his warden, not listening.

There's a knife stuck in his side as he lies there on his back with Quackity on top of him. His own sobs fall into background noise, mere set-dressing. The lava swirls and bubbles before him. Sam is on the other side. Suddenly that's all he can think about. Sam is on the other side, dead.

The warden's skin is pale and gray – he hasn't seen the sun in months, stalks the prison as a ghost does a haunted house – and his eye sockets are deep and dark as night. His hair is falling out. When he touches Dream, his hands are cold.

He never does anything at all.

"Who's gonna stop me?" Quackity taunts – twists the knife in one brutal jerk that rips a scream from Dream's hoarse throat. A tear rolls down his face. He can't breathe, for – "Who's gonna fucking stop me?"

The only man who could stop this monster of both of their creation is dead in the other room.

How long, Dream asks – the gods above, his own fate, whatever vague and unknowable thing men pray to when they can't think for themselves, when they are at their most hopeless and lost – will it take for this accursed cell to become his coffin as well?

It's not a question he would ever think, once. Back then in the sunlight, he had designed the prison as a safe harbor from the tumultuous, crashing waves of ever-present fear, the sea air clogging his lungs. He was desperate. It was his oasis, his escape route. His island of Calypso. The only place he could be safe – Sam wouldn't let anyone kill him. He had bet his life on that certainty.

The Sam he knew is dead on the other side of a wall of lava. Dream might be dead as well, or just barely clinging to the life that poured out of him with every slash of a blade or snap of rope against his skin. Every condescending sigh, every slap or hunger pang, or lies, a gentler form of torment that were crueler because of their subtlety. Unspeakable things had happened to him in that cell – and yet, he still lived?

No. He must be a ghost.

How many times had he thrown himself carelessly into lava? How many times had he passed out, bleeding profusely on the obsidian floor? How many times had he been told he should be dead?

He didn't remember much, now. He could have easily given up the Revival Book in some agonized, delirious haze. He would've died – he would no longer have been useful alive. He could no longer predict what Sam would or wouldn't do.

"You know how to make all of this stop, Dream."

Dream is silent.

He knows the game by now. He knows the lines, repeated over and over until they whisper in his ears even when he's completely alone. He knows they're just playacting. There is no paradise waiting for him. If Quackity gets his hands on the Book, then Dream will truly be dead, deader than he is already. He will go to Limbo. And he will never escape. Punz will not save him. Dream can't trust anyone. He can't trust even his oldest friends – did Sapnap not threaten to kill him? Has George ever even visited him, blessed Dream with some kinder presence? No. Everyone hates him, for he is a monster, the minotaur captured in a labyrinth of his own design –

Or perhaps this is already his limbo. He can't imagine a fate worse than this. It would be fitting, for his personal hell to be so like his living existence that he couldn't tell the difference between them.

He hates himself, too, in this cell. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, not even Sam who had seen so many of his vulnerable places. He hates the undead thing he is. He hates how dreamlike everything is – he's stopped even trying to count the days; he did, once, but then Sam started skipping meals, and Quackity started coming twice in one day every once in a while, and he didn't have a clock by then anyway. He lost count. Time died with him. But then, he spent both his days and nights screaming and bleeding and passed out on the floor, and there was nothing to look forward to, until the day that someone came to let him out and that he couldn't do anything about. What was the point of counting, anyway?

He hates that he's given up.

Sometimes, he puts his fingertips to his neck, just to feel his heart beating. He sleeps with one hand pressed to his chest to feel his breath rising and falling with each breath. He screams just to feel the vibrations in his throat. All of it could just be another lie – some charade made up by his subconscious mind to torture him further. Funny, that the man once best known by others for his mask and his web of lies and manipulations is now completely trapped by the lies of everyone around him. He's helpless, here. He knows nothing.

"You deserve this, you know that? You fucking deserve this."

He's lying.

"That's the only reason I'm here. Because you need to be fucking punished, Dream. You need someone to put you in your place."

He's lying.

But when he finally leaves, Dream doesn't complain to Sam. He doesn't say anything at all. He lays there, a silent body in a silent grave.

Sam's hands are as stiff and cold as ice despite the lava just behind him. You're not dead until you're warm and dead. Dream clings to that hope - that it's just the cold around them that has paralyzed them both. Someday they might see the warmth of the sun again, and then they could be friends again. The world could be perfect again.

Sam's breath smells like formaldehyde.

[arlecchno]

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]

fifteen | stay

prev masterlist next

as things go downhill, you tried your best to salvage what's left and figure out a way to unfold the mysteries behind the culprits of the crimes. after sleepless nights and stressful thinking, you ended up sick instead. how will you continue your work now?

warnings: swearing, overthinking, mentions of blood and murder, lots of comfort, scara takes care of you, me overusing the only one bed trope idea on my series once again lmao

a/n: *drum roll* thank you SO much for 100 followers! i never thought i'd get this far and i'm glad everyone's enjoying this series. as a reward, this chapter is around 3.7k words!! let's hope ma has a happy ending hahaha... happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

as soon as the mug hit the floor and shattered into millions of pieces, scaramouche immediately jolted from his position on the couch. he swiftly turned his head to you, eyes widened and worry cradled his face.

“holy shit, are you okay?!” he asked worriedly, though his words fell on deaf ears as time seemed to stop for you.

he's dead?

is this real, or are you just hearing things?

scaramouche's phone was still in your hand, the call you were on with childe a second ago still there, meaning he's heard everything.

“what's that sound? y/n, what happened?” childe's voice popped up from the other line, but his words too had no answer from you.

the ravenette beside you took his phone from your hand. “i'll call you back.” he said flatly, and ended the call.

putting your hands on your head in disbelief, you dug your feet to the floor, not even minding that there were shattered glass everywhere, resulting in your feet starting to bleed from the sharp object.

james words from the other day played back in your mind.

this isn't over.

was this what he meant?

you think again. no, that's impossible. who in the world would kill themselves just to get back at someone?

wait.

the trial.

he just came back from the trial yesterday.

he was supposed to be sent to jail right after you were done.

the trial might be displayed on the news.

snapping your head up, your eyes instantly landed on the tv screen.

“the 34-year old drug trafficker was found dead this morning in a police van, with the driver missing.” the news reporter said, face stoic. “he was initially to be sent out to teyvat prison after the man was dealt with a dreadful trial. it has been going on for a year now, and the trial was officially finished the other day, with the man, james, being guilty.” she continued.

fuck. your name might be exposed. your real name. with your face. everyone's gonna know who you are.

and what's worse is that your cover's going to be blown.

how did it get this fucked up in just a day?

please don't say it.

you repeated those four words for an infinite amount of times in your head.

please, i can't afford to lose this case.

“the trial involved a detective from the only prestigious precint, the fatui precint, who was shot by the victim over a year ago.”

you shivered, biting your thumb nail anxiously.

“reporters have started showing up at the precint upon hearing the devastating news, wanting to hear what detective–”

the tv news got cut off.

you perked your head up in confusion. “huh?”

scaramouche was dumfounded too, mouth left agape.

you turned to him. “is this from the news or is it our tv?”

“...pretty sure it was the news.”

what?

who in teyvat had that much of power in snezhnaya to make the well-known national news get cut off?

your phone on the coffee table lit up, the soft melody of your ringtone started ringing through the living room.

ah, sure, if it isn't the one and only.

your worry for your cover about to be blown up dissipated, now only confusion plastered on your face. picking up your phone, you answered the call.

“captain.”

the usual busy noise of the precint was now replaced with a much more chaotic one. shouts, screams, and every single disorderly sound can be heard from the other line. “y/n, there's something–”

“you were the one who did that, right?” you cut her off.

the tsaritsa's voice changed to confusion. “huh? what do you mean?”

you huffed. “don't play dumb with me, i know you were the one who cut off the news right before my name got revealed.”

“...i seriously have no idea what you're talking about.” she said, panting from who knows whatever she's doing.

you raised a brow, though stopped when you remembered that she couldn't see you. “then why did you call me?”

the tsaritsa sighed. “i–” she stopped for a second, scattering for what you assumed were crime files. “the precint is a whole mess right now, people are trying to barge in here to get you in the spotlight for some reason. but now that i heard what you said, i assumed words got out that he's dead.” she said.

“i suggest you stay inside your dorm for the next few days, i'm afraid people will find out who you are sooner or later.”

“but...” you shriveled. “you don't know anything about what happened to the news?”

the tsaritsa sighed once again, sounds of footsteps emitted from your phone. “i have no time to watch the news today, dear. sure, i have enough of a connection with all of the higher ups in this nation, but i don't even have an ounce of idea on what you're speaking of.”

huh, who could possibly be responsible for that now?

“please, take care of your safety. refrain from going out for a while, you'd have to hold off the case for now.” she concluded.

you were silent a few seconds.

“i'm sorry, y/n. this was unexpected, and it's all we can do for the time being.”

you held your phone more tightly than before, knuckles turning white. “it's... it's okay, i understand.” you said, voice almost breaking.

“we'll try our best to not get you exposed and have your cover blown. i know this case is important for you, so everyone here will help you with whatever we can.”

letting out a breath, you replied. “i'll see what i can do, too. thank you for your help, captain. hope i'm not too much of trouble to you guys.”

“it's alright.” she muttered. “i'll have to leave now, this place is a complete mess. i'll call you back soon.” she ended the call the second she finished her sentence.

ah,

everything's surely fucked up now.

you slowly placed your phone on the coffee table and buried your face in your hands. scaramouche was awkwardly sitting beside you the whole time, not knowing what to say or do.

he looked down on the floor and saw your, now wounded feet, glass sticking onto them with blood slowly dripping. you probably had no idea your feet were in pain from the shattered glass, and even if you did, you were too busy to even think about it, the adrenaline running quick as you were too bundled up with emotions.

widening his eyes, he let out a bunch of curse words under his breath and quickly placed your legs on the small coffee table. he got on his feet and avoided the shattered glass as he took off and went to get the emergency aid.

you didn't pay much mind with what scaramouche's doing, so you spent the time he was out of your sight by thinking about your current situation.

how is he even dead?

who killed him?

was this what he meant the other day?

is this going to affect your career?

question after question pops up in your head, making you the more agitated.

archons.

what happens when your cover gets blown? everyone in campus is going to find out who you are, and you'd be sabotaging your own case. what happens when people have already found out who you are? are you going to be the talk of the campus? will viktor find out about your cover? will yun jin get disappointed that you lied to her face?

you realized you've been caught up in your own thoughts for too long when you've noticed that your mug that was shattered on the floor were now gone, all swept up by the short male beside you.

speaking of which, he was already starting to treat your injured feet. he looked up from the emergency aid placed on the couch, averting his eyes to you.

you were in shambles, your hair was all over the place, face confused and anxious.

he sighed, brushing over your knees to bring both of your legs to the couch with one arm, tending to your injuries in an instant. you were turned around on the couch to face him, eyes averting elsewhere.

none of you spoke for a moment as he helped you patch up. the antiseptic going through the wounds made you wince, cursing yourself for getting in such a state.

after a while, you decided to kill the silence by letting out an airy chuckle, though no amusement laced your voice. “what the hell am i gonna do now?”

scaramouche looked up from his position, finishing up from cleaning and patching up your injuries. “what do you mean?” he asked.

you glared at him. “are you fucking stupid? you exactly know what i'm talking about.” you spat, making him frown at your sudden bitterness.

you immediately stopped once you've realised what you said.

“i... i'm sorry. i didn't mean that.” you mumbled, eyes on your lap.

the ravenette sighed, putting the emergency aid aside and looked back at you. “i know.” he simply said.

the wound on the sole of your feet from the incident earlier were now all patched up and nicely done, thanks to the short male in front of you.

“come here.”

you perked your head up. “what?”

he rolled his eyes. “you heard me. i'm not repeating it again.”

“um... why?” you asked, suspicious of him.

“must i need a reason? come over here.” he demanded a second time, one hand hovering over your knee to make you scoot to him.

you raised a brow, but obliged anyway. moving closer to him, you faced him on the couch, seeing each other eye to eye now with your legs crossed and your knees touching his.

“what now?” you grumbled, arms folded.

without waiting a second, scaramouche pulled you into a hug.

in the past, it was always you who embraced him, never failing to pull him close and cling on him during the trial. but right here, right now, it was him who initiated it, making you shocked, and slightly flustered.

you left your mouth agape, not knowing what to do. scaramouche had his chin on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you tightly, as if you'll vanish the moment he looses his grip on you.

“i–um...” you trailed off, unable to find the right words.

the male in front of you rubbed your back with one of his hands, trying to cheer you up. “we'll figure out a way.” he muttered, referring to the rising problem.

you silently sat there for a while before you finally got to your senses and hugged him back, face nuzzling into his neck, humming at his sentence.

he smells nice, you thought to yourself, as you take in the faint scent of his body wash still lingering around his figure. you nuzzled into his neck more, eyes closing at the comforting warmth of his body.

scaramouche sighed at the small affection, his thumb tracing small circles over your hips, pulling you closer than before. he paid no mind to the lack of space and gap between you both.

the current position you two were in was ridiculously uncomfortable, but the warmth and comfort scaramouche gave was what you really needed at the time being, so you ignored it— even if you'll end up with cramps later on.

neither of you bothered to move anyways.

and it is true. you two will find a way— you always do. if you both can solve thousands of problems in the 5 years you've worked together, then surely it won't be too hard to figure out a way to solve this particular one.

right?

it was midnight when you felt like absolute shit.

you've spent the last couple of days trying to find out the culprit that cut off the news, and the one who killed james, but you seriously couldn't pinpoint on who it is.

while you were held off from going to classes for the time being, scaramouche had to keep an eye on viktor two times more frequently now to make up for your absence. both viktor and yun jin have asked him about you, even going out of their way to try and personally call you.

the ravenette had to make up a lie saying that you were sick and needed some time alone.

the only difference now is that the lie is probably becoming true.

“oh for archons sake...” you groaned, the headache that's currently trying to kill you being the reason you can't get up from bed. you were bundled up with your blanket, body cold to the brim.

for some forsaken reason, you got sick.

you're not sure how, when, or where you got it, but for whatever reason it is, you really hope this won't stop you from continuing the work you've been piled up on, you think as you tried your best to get out of bed.

“shit!” you yelped, accidentally rolling off the bed instead with you wrapped around your blanket like a burrito.

the sound of you hitting the floor resonated the small room, and you silently cursed yourself once again for getting in this mess.

you've been staying up and pulling all nighters this past week, trying to rack you brain as much as you can. since you were out from classes, you thought that it'd be way quicker and easier to find the culprit, but it seemed that your conclusions were wrong.

it was no doubt that you had fallen sick from the amount of times you've stressed yourself over your work, exhaustion clearly shown on the growing eye bags on you.

the sound of footsteps from the halls were evident to your ears, and next thing you knew scaramouche was at your door, knocking a couple of times.

“i heard a noise, did anything happen?”

you just grumbled loudly as a response, hoping that he heard you. the door opening and the lights that came from the hall illuminated your room concluded that he probably did.

“...why the hell are you on the floor?”

“'m sick...” you mumbled, voice muffled from the blanket you're wrapped around. you hoped he could decipher your words.

“huh?” he walked over to you and pried off the blanket from your face, crouching down to the floor. “why do you you look dead?”

“i'm sick.” you said it again for the second time, voice hoarse from dehydration.

“what?!”

you rolled, facing the floor. “just get me some water and i'll be good as–”

“how the fuck did you even get sick?!” he cut you off, grabbing your arm and rolling you back to face him. he brought up a hand and placed it over your forehead, the scorching hot temperature seeping through your body. “shit. you're hot.”

you smirked mischievously despite your current condition. “i know i am.”

scaramouche slapped your shoulder, making you whine, saying that this is not the time to be making jokes.

you slowly sat up, and leaned against the lower part of your bed. “'m fine. just some painkillers will do and i can go back to my work.” you commented, looking at the ravenette.

“you're burning up yet you're still thinking about work, you're unbelievable.”

“you know me. can't live without work.” you muttered.

scaramouche stood up, offering his hand to you.

“come on.”

you looked up at him, his shadow towering over your figure. “where are we going?”

“to your bed. you need to rest.”

groaning, you flailed your arms in frustration. “don't wanna go. floor's nicer.” you whined.

he rolled his eyes at you. “whiny when drunk, whiny when sick, there's absolutely nothing that'll make me surprised about you.” he went closer to you, urging for you to take his hand. “hurry now, or else i'll carry you up myself.”

“you wouldn't dare.”

upon hearing your comment, he immediately crouched down and wrapped his hands around your waist, making your breath hitch, and heart pounding.

“try me.” said the ravenette with his voice suddenly an octave lower, the warmth of his breath fanning over your ear, and his face just inches away from yours.

you're flustered, he thinks, given how you're so quiet with your eyes as wide as saucers and mouth left slightly opened.

he smirked to himself before lifting you off the floor and throwing you on the bed, making your previous flustered self vanish, replacing with a small yelp instead as you landed on the bed face-first, a very annoyed expression plastered on your face soon after.

“that's not very gentleman-like of ya.” you said, voice muffled by the pillows you were buried in.

he ignores your complaint. “get some rest. i'll come back later.”

and off he went, leaving you and your sick self alone in the small room.

he came back roughly thirty minutes later.

you hadn't realised he came back, too busy fixing your eyes on the work in front of you, frantically writing about your theories with the energy you have left.

it was when he placed a tray at the end of your bed, and snatched the papers and pen from you was when you realised he was present.

“what the hell are you doing? i thought i told you to rest up.” he coldly looked at you, though if you looked a little more closer then you'd see just a tinge of empathy in his eyes.

you grumbled. “give them back.”

“no.”

“please?”

“if you want to end up in the hospital, then be my guest.”

you didn't say anything else.

he took the tray at the end of your bed and placed it on your nightstand. looking at the stuff on the tray, you've realised that scaramouche had served you a bowl of chicken soup, with a glass of water and some medicine.

you averted your gaze to him. “you made this yourself?” you asked, pointing out to the soup he's made for you.

he hummed, taking a sit near you. reaching for the bowl, he offered it to you.

“don't really feel like eating.”

he groaned at you. even when you're sick, you can still be the bitchiest, he thinks.

“the food's gonna get cold if you don't eat.”

“then so be it.”

he sighed, bringing up a hand to rake his hair back in frustration, before an idea popped in his mind.

he took the spoon from the bowl, taking some of the chicken soup and blowing over the hot broth. he scooted closer to you and brought the spoon to your mouth, his other hand went under your chin to avoid spilling over the soup.

you raised a brow, asking him what he's doing. he only shrugged, and brought the spoon closer to your mouth, your lips touching the utensil filled with chicken soup.

after what felt like forever, you finally caved in and opened your mouth, allowing scaramouche to feed you. you sighed in contentment, the warm and delicious broth hitting down your throat.

it went on for a couple of minutes, with him blowing off the steam to feed you, and you sitting quietly on your bed with your back against your bed frame, he fed you until the bowl was empty.

you reluctantly took the medication from his hand after he nagged you about the consequences to your actions, and by the time everything was settled, you were getting tired.

yawning, you finally felt like going to sleep after countless of sleepless nights.

scaramouche helped you get ready to bed, tucking you in with your cozy blanket wrapped around you once again. you mumbled out a thanks to him for taking care of you, making him smile halfway, saying that it was nothing.

he cleaned up after everything and just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist.

“hm? do you need anything else?” he asked the last question of the night, turning back to you.

you were pouting.

it was kind of adorable, scaramouche thinks. you barely do such an expression, and seeing you do it now made his ears go slightly red. you're being cute without even trying, with you being sick no less.

it was almost comical how it made his heart skip a beat.

“don't go.” you mumbled lowly, only for his ears to hear.

he placed the tray back on your nightstand. “you need to rest up, y/n. we can see each other in the morning, i'm not going anywhere.”

“no.” you fought. “stay with me.”

widening his eyes, he stared at you in shock.

your grip on his wrist tightened. “please.”

it wasn't a question. you were pleading. you were actually begging him to stay with you, despite the very big hole in your relationship.

he always knew you'd be clingy and whiny whenever you're sick, but he didn't expect for you to be so bold and impetrate for such a shameless request.

“...fine.” he sighed, obliging. “i'm only doing this just so you can rest.” he said, taking a seat at the edge of your bed from where he previously sat. “i'll leave once you're asleep.” he caressed the hand that was holding his wrist, leaving fluttering traces along your skin.

you pouted again. “noo..” you whined. “sleep with me. in bed.” you corrected, making him widened his eyes even more than before.

“that's such a ludicrous request. i'm not getting in bed with you.”

you grumbled, tugging his hand harshly to make him come closer to you. “c'monnn... don't wanna be here alone.” you pressed, giving him your signature puppy eyes whenever you needed something so badly.

damn it, he silently said.

you're absolutely ridiculous for asking such a thing.

and he's absolutely ridiculous for indulging in your pleas.

sighing for the hundredth time that night, he loosened your grip on his hand and climbed over to the empty side of your bed.

he placed a pillow in the middle to use it as a makeshift barrier and plopped back on your small bed. “i'm not holding you. sleeping on the same bed is already preposterous enough.”

“'s okay.” you assured. “'least you're here with me.”

he only hummed as a response, not wanting to say more.

it wasn't long before you two were finally pulled back to sleep, with pillow barriers blocking the only small gap between the both of you.

how you two ended all tangled up and arms wrapped around each other the next morning (and the makeshift barrier pillows thrown elsewhere on the floor) was something even the archons couldn't answer.

and then the next day scaramouche catches a cold /j

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[akampana]

11. Emiya x Artoria

11. "Don't make me say it. I can't say the words. Pairing: Emiya x Artoria Tags: angst

“Em...Emiya?”

That name–that damned name–he swore it would always haunt him, even if he’d long cast it aside. It would always be there. Staining his father’s grave. Carved upon his Spirit Origin. Smeared all over her beautiful lips. He hated it. 

“You…Your True Name…it’s Emiya?”

He could practically taste the anguish in her words when she said them, each syllable feeling like a sword to his chest. Archer didn’t dare look her in the eye. The last thing he needed to see was whatever emotion she held there. 

Somebody tried to stop him as he made for the exit. Somebody else tried to talk him into staying. But he was out the door before Arturia could call him by “name” again. Cú–that damn bastard and his slippery tongue. Archer should have known better than to drink with that idiot. He knew his mouth tended to run when alcohol was involved. He was careless. He shouldn’t have– 

“Wait. Please.”

 A hitch in his step. A stumble. But Archer continued his headway through Chaldea’s halls with a rushed pace. No. No. Hell no. He wasn’t dealing with this. 

He felt Arturia's fingers circle his wrist. It had been so long since he had touched her. Many a lonely night, he'd longed for that same touch, trying and failing to find its comfort between every summon. Many of those nights, he realized all he'd ever known was sweat against the grip of his twin swords and blood on the tips of his arrows. She was a dream; a single, impossible dream. She had no place in his life of infinite nightmares.

"Shirou—"

A few eons ago he would be on his knees, but now, his spirit didn't even stir. She might have as well called another name and it wouldn’t have made a difference. If anything, it was anger that moved him as he turned to face her. After years and years of trying to outrun his demons she’d dragged him right back into their damned den. 

"That's not who I am, Saber."

Arturia felt the floor slide from under her, smooth tile replaced by stone and gravel that cut at her heels. All of a sudden, the fluorescent lights were a brown sky of cinders and smoke and when she breathed all she tasted was ash. She blinked and swords were at her neck. Eyes devoid of all life and color stared her down. She felt like she was looking straight into a black hole, helpless as it tore her apart inch by inch. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. How could she, stifled by how glaringly empty the white haired vessel in front of her was?

The dull, metallic sound of gears turning filled the stale air between the two Servants. Unnoticed, a single tear slipped from her cheek, joining all those that had been spilled on the grounds of his nightmarish reality marble. She knew he was right. She need only look around for her proof. This place, this hill—if she squinted she could believe she was bleeding out on the fields of Camlann, her voice hoarse from grieving for her failures. If Shirou had taken the same path that she did, it was entirely possible for the man he became to end up here. 

Fresh salt welled up under her irises as she wept for the stranger before her. The hearth she once loved was but an empty fireplace now; the fire that once warmed her soul replaced by white ash. Maybe the other kings were right. She was a fool; a dreaming little girl clawing for delusions she could never achieve. 

As her tears fell, a bitter smile graced her face. "If you could just tell me, one last time, that it was real…that you loved—"

"I won’t. I can’t." Archer cut her off, pain shooting through his system like swords erupting from his flesh. A long, sharp ringing in his ear resounded as he looked down on the girl that changed his life several centuries ago. Her words haunted him like an echo, cyclically repeating till they left scars in the deepest recesses of his mind. Worse were her sea green eyes. He used to drink them up, but now he felt like he was drowning.

"Don't make me say it,” he grunted, lips quivering with every syllable, “I can't say the words."

Arturia’s tears ran dry before either of them said anything. Soon the orange sky had faded back into the white lights of the Chaldea halls. The knight swiped the back of her hand against her face. When he met her stare again, it had gone cold as ice, as if she’d discarded their warmth together with her tears. He realized at once she’d done what had taken him years to do: bury her feelings so far down there was no way she could ever reach them again. 

“My sincerest apologies for my earlier outburst,” she said stiffly, adopting a tone he hadn’t heard since they first met in that dark storage house. “Thank you for your answer. But…you are right. I should not have reminded you of your past when you’ve already cast it away.”

Why did it feel like his insides were being ripped out?  

Arturia dusted herself off, wearing that irritating soulless expression she liked to use with her knights. She gave him a soft, distant smile. “I hope you can forgive me…Archer.”

Part of him died that instant, the part that steadfastly hoped for the light at the end of the dark path, the reward he’d reap for all the suffering he endured, the warm welcome to paradise. He wondered if it was worth it to continue on his journey at all. She wouldn’t be waiting for him at the end. Not anymore.

[feastingonfanfiction]

Waiting on the red string of fate

Alt ending 5(chapter 3f)

Tanya Denali x fem!reader

Chapter 3f: Beautiful strangers, drunk conversations, and back alleys

Summary: A drunk conversation with a beautiful stranger, how will this end?

A/N: Welcome back to another serving of angst(if you've kept up with this series, I gotta ask, are you ok?) This is gonna be a sad one.

Bon Appétit and happy readings

Read the other parts on the:

Masterlist menu

Or start at part 1 if you haven't read it

Warnings:Angst, hanahaki has its own set of warnings(choking on flowers, blood, etc) character death, idk if alcohol needs a warning or not

Tanya's soulmate pov:

Sitting on a stool in some bar in a random city of over a million people, you couldn't help but feel lonely, like a speck of dust in this universe that feels infinite.

You had been drinking, you found that drinking warded off the flowers for a bit, intoxication loosened the airways, and you could breathe a little easier. Sometimes, you'd only drink a little. Sometimes, you'd just get to the point of being tipsy.

Tonight, though? Tonight, you were drunk.

Nursing the drink in your hand, this is the 3rd night you'd returned to this bar, already having chatted away your woes with the bartender on the 1st night. You remembered not wanting to drink too much, but the hanahaki felt worse as the whispers in your mind clawed at your thoughts, bringing in more pain to the whispered thoughts that you were unwanted.

Tonight? Tonight, you just drink. You drink to drink away the pain, is what you thought.

That is until a beautiful stranger sits besides you and flashes you a dazzling smile, though intoxicated the part of your mind that was partially sober gave a lopsided smile back, your drunk mind uncertain what to do. Fuck, you've been so hung up on a soulmate you didn't have any idea how to.....flirt, this is going to be embarrassing.

She introduces herself, and you could only smile at that, your head too buzzed and too distracted by the way her lips moved when she talked, she probably said her name and you didn't even hear it. She was really stunning, it's all your mind can focus on.

Suddenly realizing she was talking to you, you break out of your dazed look, asking her to repeat what she said.

She laughs, and the sound is enchanting,

Smooth like silk, you want to hear it again.

She points to your glass and asks why you're drinking so much, and the question can't help but damper your spirits. You don't notice her subtle shift at your sad look, your mind going back to the thought of your soulmate.

You only really tell her it's cause of heartbreak and see her look uncertain after you say that, she probably wanted to ask you out or something and that put a road block in her way, who would want someone going through heartbreak? Your mind wanted to spiral.

She does ask if you wanted talk about it, and some part of you feels like you'd want to bare your soul to this stranger, to let her see your pain, let her see the damage and see if she stayed.

You wouldn't tell her all of it though, some part of you wanted to keep it private, like a secret.

You tell her your soulmate didn't want you.

Her face looks confused at that and you elaborate, telling her about your gap year and your search for her, how you did find her but she looked to be with someone else. That you've waited for so long and that your heart felt like it was ripped out of you the second you saw her with someone else, the kiss, the pain you felt from having your rose tinted glasses smacked off your face. And then you tell her that despite all that you still want her to be happy, that some part of you still loved her.

You don't look at the stranger, choosing to look down, you don't want her pity, you don't see the look she gives you.

You feel a cold hand touch your hand clenched in a fist on the bar counter, you look up at her to see her sad eyes on you, "perhaps it wasn't what it seemed?" She says her voice ever soft with care. You can't help but shake your head at that,

"Even if it wasn't, I don't know if I can get rid of this sense of hopelessness that's grown within me"

She looks disheartened at that, and you can't help but feel bad for making her feel sad. Some part within your drunken mind calls for you to comfort her,

"Don't be sad, it's really just my own issue at least you still have your soulmate" you say gesturing to her hand with her own string attached.

She looks like she wants to cry at that and you panic, why is she sad???

"No, no, wait, don't be sad, I'm sorry I-

Can I hug-"

When you opened you arms in a gesture to ask if you can hug her

You find before you even finish your question she's already in your arms, holding you tight. Her head in the crook of your neck, you slowly lower your arms to wrap around her, returning her embrace.

Her skin was cold and felt nice against the flush of your skin that was warmed from the alcohol alongside the sudden shyness at the situation.

You feel her shake in your arms and assume she's crying, you hold her, whispering reassurances.

Feeling awkward just standing at the bar you ask if she'd rather sit at a booth along one of the walls, you find her dragging you there almost forgetting your drink.

Sitting in the booth, she moves to hug you again, part of you let's her cause you couldn't help but feel like you needed to comfort her. There's not really anything spoken between the two of you, and you feel like you could just sit in the silence and be at peace, but part of your mind can't help but fill the void and ramble about whatever comes to mind, you talk about your trip and other things.

And eventually you find her joining you in conversation interjecting to add her own thoughts. Conversation with her feels easy, it's nice and you can't help but smile. Part of you can't help but wonder what ifs, what if you didn't have hanahaki, what if you found this person before you found your soulmate and didn't have the rude awakening to find out you were the only one that was waiting. You can't help but be torn at the thought. Your heart still tender from being ripped out of you, and you're still aware of the feelings for your soulmate even if she doesn't return your affections that you can't help but feel bad. Perhaps time could heal your broken heart and you could find something with the pretty stranger beside you.

The whispers in your drunken mind can't help but claw back at the idea, thinking over and over this is a betrayal.

Trying to shake away the thoughts you notice the time, knowing you should get back to your hotel room to sleep off the alcohol and hoping the hangover won't hurt you too bad in the morning. You tell her you should head out.

The mysterious stranger offers to walk you to where you're staying and comforted by the thought of such kindness you accept, perhaps you hoped for something more, but then some nagging voice in the back of your mind starts to repeat the same song, saying this is a betrayal to your soulmate.

The shadow of thoughts started flooding in saying your soulmate could never want you, the whispers of your mind start to take over sending signals to start another coughing, you can feel it coming excusing yourself saying you'd like to use the restroom before you leave.

She nods saying she'll stay and wait for you by the bar.

You make a dash for the restroom, tumbling into people in your drunken stupor as you go into the hallway where it's supposedly leads, stumbling you feel the flowers coming quicker as you burst through a door that leads you to a different alleyway on the otherside of the bar. The flowers are coming up quick as you rush forwards towards the garbage can that was in view.

Flowers and blood come up like vomit as you cough and cough.

Suddenly you feel cold hands at the back of your throat as you're grabbed and pulled back into a pair of arms.

Tanya's pov:

Tanya couldn't believe her luck in finding you. When she decided to follow her gut instinct and redirected the course to this big city where your string had been headed, she tried to discreetly speed over here.

It was dark out now, the stars unseen from the light pollution of the city. She kept on walking past people out partying or getting drunk, strangers not taking a second glance trying to get to their own places.

Finding your string leading down a dimly lit alleyway, she follows along, finding it lead into a bar.

She fixes her outfit, prepared to look her best now that she's going to finally meet you. Opening the door, the place was slightly busy, some people within the establishment turn to stare at her, but her eyes were only on her string. Following it to a figure sitting hunched over on a stool at the bar. She goes up and sits beside you. Flashing you a smile that dazzles you. Your awkward lopsided smile is charming.

She introduces herself, saying she's been waiting a long while for you. Tanya can't help but notice the alcohol on your breath and the kind of dazed look in your eye,

She can see you were not sober enough to realize she was your soulmate nor were you listening. Smelling the alcohol on your breath.

So she decided to chat asking

"What is a sweet little thing like you doing drinking so much?"

You continue to look at her, and then as if realizing she was talking to you she sees you break out of your dazed asking her to repeat her question. Adorable is all she can think as she laughs.

Pointing at your glass Tanya repeats her question. She sees the change in your emotions, concerned at the pained sadness that flashes through your face.

The answer not at all what she expected

"Heartbreak" is all you say to her.

Tanya freezes at that, heartbreak? Confused and uncertain. Did you just get out of a relationship? She's not sure how to proceed. Perhaps you'd want to talk about it? So she asks.

Hearing you say that she didn't want you made her confused, what do you mean? She was right here, and she did want you!

She sees you look at her confusion and then you tell her your story.

When she finds out that you'd been waiting and then set out to find her, she felt like her heartwarmed, only to still realizing that when you had found her, she had been kissing a one night stand and you had mistaken it for a lover or partner.

She can't help but feel your pain through the soulmate bond at the recounting of the events. Then she hears that despite all of your pain that you still wanted her to be happy, even if you were mistaken, even if you had to distance yourself and it caused you pain.

Everything in her wanted to tell you that she did want you. But you still hadn't realized you were soulmates, and she's not certain if you were sober enough to take the news. Her still heart hurt at the thought, wanting to comfort you.

Her best bet at this was to try and change your mind. You hadn't looked at her when you recounted the story, your hand's in a death grip on the bar top. She moves to cover it with her own, and when you look into her eyes she can't help but try, "perhaps it's not what it seemed?"

Her voice sad and trying to convey that she was right here! she wanted you!

But when you described the hopelessness she couldn't help but internally cry for you.

Some expression on her face must've sent concern through you as you try to brush aside your own pain to comfort her

Telling her not to be sad, that your problems are yours and that she still has her own soulmate. Part of her wanted to cry. You were her soulmate and you were suffering. Every part of her was in anguish.

She looks down, she hurt you with a one night stand, it wasnt her intention but she hurt you all the same and she can't help but feel bad, cause now you were staying away and suffering cause of her.

She hears the panic in your voice as you try to stop the sadness in her. You make to open your arms and before you're even done asking she rushes to hug you. Glomping onto you. She places her head in the crook of your neck, your scent comforting to her as she realizes the hurt you both have.

When she feels you hug her back, she can't help but think this was her home.

You were slightly warm against her cool skin.

She shakes, if she could cry she would. She hugs you tight trying to convey she's here! You pat her on the back whispering reassurances, saying it was going to be ok.

After a while you ask if she'd prefer to sit at a booth and she all but drags you over, cuddling in close. Now that she's found you she won't let you go. She basks in the silence and comfort that is you. After a while you break the silence talking about anything and nothing at all, and she can't help but smile at your rambles, joining in with her own thoughts.

Eventually though your face gives a conflicted emotion, she's not sure why. But then you notice the time and say that you should be heading back to where you're staying.

It was getting late for humans.

Not wanting to leave you, she offers to walk you back to where you stay and you can't help but smile. But suddenly something crosses at your expression and you say you have to use the restroom. She let's you leave, deciding to wait at the bar for you instead of following.

She waits for you, 5 minutes pass, then 10, then after the 15 minute mark she worries somewhat. She makes to go towards you, following the signage to the washroom but seeing your string lead to a different door. The scent of blood suddenly hits her nose without even having to open the door, a sense of dread takes over as she speeds through, bursting the door open she frantically looks around, and then her amber eyes land on you, being held in the arms of a stranger. You complexion deathly pale as the vampire that's draining you doesn't take notice too busy feeding off you.

Panicked Tanya can only rush forward, but with the movement, the vampire takes notice, hissing, and they fling your body, hitting the brick wall. She cries. "No!"and moves to kill the newborn.

Rushing to rip off their head and limbs, she curses them for hurting her soulmate. When the threat is eliminated she moves to you, gently cradling your form.

She then notices the flowers in your mouth.

What little blood that drips down your chin. She listens for your heartbeat, it's slow, too slow, the wound from the vampire attack drained you, and what little blood is left is pooling out of you.

She panics, not sure if the vampire venom will be enough to save you. Your heart is already weak, and she's not even thinking of the hanahaki at this point. Her mind scattered, she just found you, she just found you this can't be it.

She brushes some strands of hair out of your face and your eyes barely open, unfocused as you look at her. She can see the light fading from you. She cries a cry without tears. "Hey I'm here, it's me, I'm your soulmate please....please don't leave me" As she gives you a kiss to your forehead, then your nose then your lips, she tells you that she loves you, whilst she presses your foreheads together.

As if you heard her you give her a weak smile, and a barely whispered, "i love you too" Her heart breaking at it.

As you give your last breath in her arms.

When your heart stops she can't help but scream. She doesn't care who hears her. You were gone.

She holds you tight to her.

Why? Why did it have to be like this.

She just got you, you were right there...

And now you were gone.

Fate gave them a chance but when monsters lurk around corners out of their control, fate can do nothing and so a soulmate is left alone in this world after just finding her other half

Sorry for the emotional damage

[cxncri]

love buzz [mello x reader] [chap. 2]

last chapter: chap. 1

author’s note: hi guys! i’m not sure how frequently i’ll be able to update this series, as i’m traveling for the holidays and i’ll be busy with all that. however, i’m trying to get these drafted and ready to post while i’m still at home, so i hope you enjoy!

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you wake up to the beeping of your alarm clock and the soft pattering of rain against the windows, blearily stumbling out of bed to turn the alarm off. you rub the sleep from your eyes and look out your bedroom window to see that it is most certainly pouring. how fun.

after your shower, you shiver as you pull on your uniform. you haven't checked the temperature outside yet, but if the temperature inside your house was any indicator, it was going to be a cold, rainy day. however, this was a day perfect for studying, and you were definitely happy about that. after getting ready, you head out the door. your parents had already left for work, and it always felt weird getting up in the morning with no one in the house. getting in your car, you drive off to school, preparing for a dreary day.

"okay- photoelectron spectroscopy. tell me about that."

the library was packed with people this morning, probably full of the students who were usually outside on the campus before school started. sayu groans as she rocks back in her chair, trying to remember whatever that was. your best friend was great, no doubt about that, but you suspected the only reason she agreed to study with you was for the free coffee from the school's cafe. you were most likely their best customer by now.

"come on," you urge, "what does it measure?"

"it measures, uh, something, definitely!" sayu says with a hopeful look. she screws her eyes shut, and after a long pause, she sighs. "i give up. i can't remember."

now it's your turn to sigh. "photoelectron spectroscopy," you announce, doing a slight drumroll on your textbook, "is used to measure relative energy of electrons in molecules and atoms." sayu frowns. "i wouldn't have guessed that in a million years, no matter how many cups of coffee you bought me." you laugh, shutting the notebook and dropping it in your bag. "let's go get your coffee- i think you're still asleep."

whoever put AP chemistry as your first class of the day must've had a serious vendetta against you. karma was here to kick you in the ass, because it was suddenly you who couldn't remember anything. you jot down notes in a trance-like state; it'll be a miracle if they're decipherable later. you watch the clock, counting the minutes until your next block, AP lit (with your favorite person, mello! you are most definitely, totally, surely over the scores from yesterday!). you try your best to stifle your yawns, and continue your note-taking haze.

finally the bell rings and ends your misery, and you head out of the classroom. heading down the stairs to the english hallway, you can't help but admire the way the rain looks outside. it's so pretty, the way the clouds blanket the sky and cast a fog over everything.

just about dropping into your seat, you plunk your things down onto your desk and wait for class to begin. AP lit you could manage, english being a strong suit of yours (and the class requiring minimal in-class participation).

class begins, and your teacher wastes no time, diving into today's class right away. you're humoring her- and maybe you aren't doing as well as you think, because you hear the words "partner" and "project" paired together and it catches you extremely off-guard. you snap out of whatever funk you've been in, trying to fill in the gaps of what you've missed.

"the two of you will act out a scene of your choosing, assuming i approve it. you'll repeat this three times over a six-week time frame; two weeks to prepare and perform each."

oh. oh no. acting wasn't good. presentations sucked, no matter how prepared you were, but acting out a skit? that was infinitely worse, especially with another person. the thought of standing in front of a large group of people and rehearsing something, something that was a major grade, scared the shit out of you.

"since most shakespearean plays have a movie made in the likeness of the original play, it may help to watch them after you read the initial script, for a better feel of the scene. this, however, is completely optional and up to you. you'll be working with the partners i've assigned. compromises will not be made without a valid reason."

your face falls. first the acting, then the randomized partners? this was horrific. absolutely horrific.

"if anyone has any questions, now would be the time to ask. if not," she continues, eyes sweeping the class, "then i will announce the partners, and you shall get started.

you hold your breath as she goes down the list of partners, finally arriving at your name."and you," she looks at you, no discernible expression on her face, "you'll be working with mr. keehl."

you freeze, looking over to see mello wearing the same gaping expression as you. his jaw is dropped, eyes wide open, face in shock. six-week project. compromises will not be made without a valid reason. is having to work with someone you can't stand in the slightest a valid reason to switch partners?

you're doomed. completely and utterly doomed.

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if you would like to be added to my taglist for this series, please feel free to dm me about it!!

taglist: @mo-3-bius

[lilyevanstan1325]

🥀 Falling Apart 🥀

Chapter 6

Lily POV

I can't believe I did it.

I can't believe I did it.

I can't believe I did it.

I observe Loki as he lies on the bed, the bed I will occupy while staying at the Compound, leafing through an old spell book.

I honestly can't be so relaxed.

I have been here for just an hour and I already feel overwhelmed by to many emotions.

I paced back and forth around the room nervously, almost as if I were a caged animal.

Nervous and ready to jump to the throat of anyone who dares to approach me.

"You overthinking, darling" reminds me Loki without even looking up from the book.

His long fingers turn the pages with a little too much vehemence.

He lies there, his long, tapered legs forced into a pair of dark jeans spread casually.

I trace my gaze upwards, the black shirt, which adheres to his body designed by an artist, has the first unfastened buttons that allow a glimpse of his diaphanous skin.

His long, pitch-black hair is scattered all over the pillow and his muscular arms are raised in the air to hold the book.

He once again leafs through the old yellowed pages quickly and with little care.

His regardless movements and the sound of the thin paper that seems to protest under such impetuousness drive me crazy.

“Loki…could you please be a little more gentle?It is a very old book and it belongs to my father” I reproach him nervously.

Loki lowers the book and placing it on his stomach, leaning his elbows on the bed he gets up.

His piercing green eyes are fixed on my face.

“Your father is dead.I don't think he can get mad” he replies and shrugs.

I stop suddenly from my nervous march.

I think my jaw is touching the floor right now as my mouth has opened wide.

Loki gives me a crooked smile.

“Oh sorry, I thought you knew.It just happened five years ago” he teases me by sitting up and elegantly crossing his legs.

I keep looking at him dazed while he smiles at me and winks at me.

I shake my head disconsolately.

"You're a horrible person, do you know?"

Loki responds with another shrug.

“Yeah…someone already told me” he replies.

I would like to throw something at him but a smile peeks out on my lips.

He smiles back at me pleased to have succeeded in his intent.

That is to distract myself from my troubled thought.

Thought that is slowly eating my every brain cell.

Which is eating away at my entire existence.

"You can repeat to me why did we barricade ourselves in this room?" he asks me for the umpteenth time.

And for the umpteenth time my answer is always the same.

“We are not barricaded here, Loki.We're just waiting for Tony”

“Well, we could do it downstairs.Maybe in the kitchen.I don't deny that I'm hungry"

"You're worse than a child" I snort impatiently, moving my gaze to the clock hanging on the wall.

Has it really only been two minutes since I last checked?

A chuckle catches my attention.

"Did you see what face he did earlier?" Loki asks me, giggling.

I roll my eyes.

"Tony did it on purpose" I answer reaching him and sitting next to him.

Loki gives me a light push.

"Yes, I know.I like that Stark, I have to admit it”

“Please stop.Why do you have fun pissing off Steve?Leave him alone” I tell him looking at him sideways.

Loki gets up and without looking at me reaches the window, I observe him while his gaze is lost outside.

"Because he's a traitorous bastard and we hate him, right?" he replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and I am the only idiot not to know it.

I roll my eyes again.

"No one has ever told you that you have to hate him...not even I hate him" I murmur looking at my hands that are constantly torturing the buttons of my shirt.

Loki snorts loudly attracting my puzzled gaze.

I find him watching me, his arms crossed in front of his chest and an eyebrow that rises dangerously upwards.

"Yeah...because you still love him"

And his is not a question.

"Don't be ridiculous"

"You don't be ridiculous, Elisabeth"

We stare at each other for an infinite moment.

I look down, mortified.

"It doesn't matter how I feel about that man.The past is past and there is no going back.He move on and…"

I sigh.

"And you didn't.And that pisses me off.I care about you and knowing that you still suffers for that asshole drives me out of my mind” he hisses between his teeth, “So yeah, I like to piss him off.His face when Tony offered us the largest bedroom was a fantastic" he adds, turning back to the large window that overlooks the immense patch of greenery that surrounds the entire building.

I'm sorry to hear that Loki feels bad about this.

Whatever I do someone must always suffer.

It is a doom.

I get up and slowly reach him, once behind him I wrap my arms around his waist leaning my head against his back.

I rub my cheek against it and then leave a kiss on it.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off” I whisper against the delicate fabric of his shirt.

His cold hands slowly rejoin mine which are intertwined just above his stomach.

From the tension in his body I understand that there is something he wants to tell me, so I wait patiently for him to do it.

In these five years I have learned that with Loki it is useless to push, it is him who chooses when he feels ready to express his thoughts, his feelings, his torments.

"It's just...it's just that I saw you suffer so much for that man.You become my best friend Lily and I can't accept the idea that you can still feel connected to him after what he did to you" he whispers.

I release my grip from his body and position myself right in front of him.

Our gazes meet, chaining.

The golden light of the sunset makes his irises shine so unnaturally green and bewitching.

“Loki, I will always feel connected to Steve.Together we had four children, we loved each other very much.And I know I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving him but that's how it went...and then, when he kissed that other woman, him and I were no longer together and he was more than free to do what he wanted.I was the cause of my suffering, of his suffering, and I take all the responsibility for it” I simply admit.

Loki looks at me seriously, biting the inside of his cheeks.

His hard gaze pierces my soul.

I see that he is torn.

He shakes his head hinting a smile.

"You know...it costs me to admit it but I think he still feels something for you too"

I interrupt him immediately punching him in the chest.

Loki takes a step back looking first at my clenched fist then at my face raising an eyebrow.

"And what is this for?" he asks me pointing to my fist still resting on his broad chest.

“To stop talking bullshit.He fell for another woman just two months after we broke up...I doubt that after five years there could still be anything" I answer with a briefly laugh even though everything is falling apart inside me.

I move away from him and sit at the desk, I put my crossed ankles on it and put my hands behind my head.

“It's water under the bridge.Steve does this because it's in his nature.Nothing more” I say indifferently.

Nothing more.

I know I'm nothing to him.

I'm just the mother of his children.

Just this.

Nothing more.

My mind flies inexorably to five years ago, to the day I left him.

I know I did the right thing, at the time it was, but that doesn't mean that I don't suffer.

I lived in a spiral of emptiness and pain for weeks and when Tony managed to convince me, well...I wish he had never done it.

Seeing Steve kiss another woman was devastating.

Seeing him kiss Sharon Carter was destructive.

Her hands clinging tightly to his shirt, their mouths joined with eagerness...

God, I've had nightmares for months.

Within seconds, I felt catapulted to when I was just a little girl of just twenty-five who hadn't seen anything in the world.

I felt that insecure little girl again.

That little girl unsure that a man like Steve loved someone like me and not someone like Sharon.

But time has finally proved that I'm right.

After all, in his life there was always and only room for the women of the Carter family.

My gaze moves to the mirror on my right, the image it sends back makes me return with my feet on the ground.

Loki is again sitting on the bed looking at me in silence, he knows perfectly well that I was lost in my complex mental ruminations.

The color of my eyes at the moment is proof of that.

"You're back"

I smile wearily.

“Yeah…sorry”

He waves a hand in front of his face as if to tell me not to worry.

"You have to learn to control it" he tells me seriously right after, pointing a finger at my eyes.

I adjust myself in the chair, looking at myself again in the mirror.

The orange veins are fading, letting the black of my eyes return to being the predominant color.

"I try but when I'm too..."

"Emotional?" Loki interrupts me.

"Stressed...when I'm under stress it slips out of my control" I continue.

I bite my bottom lip.

Loki is right.

When strong emotions take over me, black magic, the magic of chaos, takes over.

Thanks to Loki's help, I found that I was much more powerful than I thought.

It wasn't just the Space Stone that gave me the power.

A powerful and ancient magic is imbued in me, according to the Asgardian, being the daughter of two great wizards it could not have been otherwise.

But the magic of chaos is powerful, destructive, and I never ever let it free.

And when it tries to take over me, my eyes are the first alarm bell.

My irises are covered with orange veins, burning like incandescent lava.

Quite creepy.

The first time I noticed, I freaked out.

Loki looks at me worried.

"Don't worry God, I can handle the situation"

"Are you sure, witch?"

I nod even though I'm not really that sure.

Loki is an excellent master but I am sure that if my father had been there he would have been able to guide me more carefully.

Indeed if he had been still here perhaps he would never have allowed this magic to take possession of me.

Someone vigorously knocks on the door causing my heart to skip a few beats.

"Who is it?"

“And how do I know?” Loki replies, almost annoyed by what I'm sure he thinks is a stupid question.

With a trembling step I approach the door but before I can ask who is, Loki calls me.

"Wait, it could be the Captain" he whispers as a sly smile spreads across his lips.

I look at him with a questioning look.

Loki snaps his fingers and suddenly his clothes vanish, leaving him with only a pair of boxers on.

"What...are you crazy?" I ask in a high-pitched voice.

Another knock on the door forces me to lower my voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Loki shrugs with total indifference.

"It's hot in this room" he pretends, answering me with an angelic voice.

"Put your clothes back on!" I order but he doesn't listen to me.

He keeps looking at me like he's doing nothing wrong.

Pissed off at that idiot of a god I approach the door opening it a few inches to prevent the gruesome scene behind me from being visible to my visitor.

As soon as the door opens, two eyes that I know well look at me curiously.

"Luckily it's you" I sigh gratefully.

I grab Layla's arm and unceremoniously drag her into the room.

I barely poke my head over the threshold of the door, looking first to the right and then to the left, and fortunately the corridor is empty.

I quickly go back to my room, closing the door behind me.

"I'm quite confused at the moment" Layla murmurs, making her gaze wander between me and that idiot of an Asgardian who still lies lazily in his underwear on my bed.

I shake my head in resignation.

"Forget it.Long story"

"Short version?" my friend asks, refraining herself from laughing.

“Short version?Loki is an idiot, as always" I murmur and then, with a movement of my hand, make his clothes reappear.

“I thought it was Steve.I just wanted to have some fun"

Layla laughs at the words of the god and joining him on the bed she sits next to him.

We are a really weird trio.

All so different and yet all united by the same pain.

Loneliness.

I was not the only one to lose everything.

Layla has lost her love, her parents.

Loki has lost his loved one.

"Have you talked to Sarah?" I ask turning to Layla.

She nods, her gaze veiled with concern.

“Listen to me Layla, you don't have to do this.Go to your son.Here we can get by on our own, right Loki?" I say looking for the support of the man in front of me.

He nods but Layla shakes her head.

“Paul will be fine with his aunt, he'll have a lot of fun playing with his cousins and then…I want to be there.I want to be there when it happens”

Her voice becomes a whisper.

Yeah…when it happens.

Here, everyone is convinced that we will be able to bring everyone back but I remain skeptical...that is, part of me would like to believe it with all my heart but the other part, the more rational one, fears that there will be catastrophic consequences.

But think how beautiful it would be to be able to hug your children again whispers the voice of my conscience.

Hugging my kids again, my kids and Steve's.

"Lily?" Layla's voice distracts me from my thoughts.

"Excuse me, were you saying?"

"I said I spoke to Tony and he would like to see us in the meeting room in half an hour"

In half an hour.

I'll see Steve in thirty minutes.

In thirty minutes I will see Natasha again after five long years.

We were best friends and I left without saying anything, I didn't even say goodbye.

That day, after leaving Steve, I went directly to my father's Sanctuary where Wong welcomed me with joy, then I called Tony and asked him if he could retrieve some of my things and bring them to me.

Him, Pepper and Layla were the only ones I stayed in contact with.

I made them promise, forcing them, never to tell anyone where I was.

And they swore it.

Layla and Paul eventually moved to the Sanctuary with me and with Tony...a special relationship was created with him, what we spent on the Titan bound us inextricably making us support always each other.

I left everything and everyone without an explanation and I'm sure Nat didn't take it well at all.

"Ok.Ok.Just...just a moment, ok?" I murmur as I enter the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I leaning against it letting myself slide slowly until I feel the cold marble under my ass.

I sink my head between my knees while breathing deeply.

The time has come to face my past and I honestly don't feel ready.

And I believe that in the end I will never be.

Seeing Steve was a big shock.

Seeing those eyes that I loved so much destabilized me.

For a moment in his eyes I saw that great love that united us, that great love that generated four fantastic and beautiful children.

But then the image of him and Sharon, lips to lips, destroyed everything.

Reminding me once again of how it all ended inexorably.

His face seemed more tired, hardened by time and pain.

His eyes, always bright and deep, seemed veiled with tiredness.

I just want to give you back your children, nothing more.

Nothing more.

Because he doesn't want anything else from me.

And that's right.

I hurt him, very badly, and I deserve all this suffering.

I deserve it because he didn't deserve what I did to him.

I don't know how long I stay on the bathroom floor, I just know that a light knock on the door wakes me out of my trance.

"Lil?"

"I'm coming, Layla"

I get up from the floor and stop for a moment in front of the mirror to observe my reflection.

I lift my hands and run them through my hair.

I cut my long curls because them reminded me too much of him.

Them reminded me of all the times he whispered in my ear how much my hair drove him crazy.

I cut them off because all I did was think about when he was pulling them while he was fucking me.

Damn!

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why the hell do I have to think about such a thing right now?

I am here for a very specific reason.

Bring everyone back.

Have my children back.

I run my hands over my face, rubbing it hard and then putting all my feelings aside, I leave the bathroom.

Loki and Layla chatter to each other, stopping as soon as they see me.

Before I can scold them or say anything, another knock on the door catches our attention, our heads snapping at it.

I'm pretty sure I know who is.

I take a couple of steps and with a trembling hand I grab the doorknob but before I can open the door, whoever is on the other side does it for me.

The door swung open and I find myself observing two green eyes that I hadn't realized how much I had missed them until now.

Her hair is much longer.

Red.

She is as beautiful as ever, even if she wears a simple sweatshirt and jeans she is always a beautiful sight.

I stare at her with my mouth open, a swarm of sensations and memories overlap frantically in my head.

Without saying a word, Natasha's arms suddenly wrap around me, squeezing me against her body.

Her accelerated breathing tickles my neck.

Layla and Loki stealthily leave the room, leaving me alone to experience a violent whirlwind of emotions.

Slowly I raise my arms holding my Natasha.

My best friend.

My sister.

We both find ourselves sobbing, letting go of years and years of pain.

She has lost Bucky, her great love.

My best friend.

And I wasn't there.

I abandoned her when she needed me.

“I'm sorry, Nat.I'm sorry" I stammer with my cheek resting on his chest also shaken by small sobs.

"I'm sorry too, Lily"

We remain embraced for a few more minutes and then she moves away from me, dissolving our embrace.

We both have red eyes and a red nose tip.

Nat grabs my hand and together we reach the bed sitting on it.

It was devastating to discover that he too was gone.

“I should have stayed by your side.I should have helped you deal with the disappearance of Bucky, our Bucky” I stammer awkwardly and with my heart in a grip of pain, "God, I miss that idiot" I add smiling through tears immediately followed by Natasha.

We have been through a lot together, he has always been there for me ready to be my accomplice.

And even though I consider Natasha a sister, my bond with Bucky went further.

He was there when I found out the truth about who Strange was.

He was there when I found out I was pregnant with Sarah.

Of the twins.

Of Jay, my little boy who bore his name.

He has been by my side for years, always ready to cover my ass.

Natasha puts her hand on my knee.

"I've been a bad friend" I add looking at her hand.

“I haven't been a good friend either.You lost your children, your father.You kicked Steve out of your life, you were upset and out of your mind…I should have threatened Stark with death and made him tell me where you were.I should have looked for you.I should have helped you.I'm sorry”

We both look up to meet halfway.

Her eyes are full of pain.

As well as mine.

“But I knew where you were and I didn't look for you”

“They were tough years for everyone,Lily.But you know, the important thing is to have found each other again.Together we will find a way to start over”

I don't answer her.

Start over?

Even if we bring everyone back, nothing will be the same.

Nothing will erase the past five years.

Nothing will erase the hatred and pain.

We will never be a big, beautiful and chaotic family again.

"I hope so" I whisper, avoiding giving voice to my true thoughts.

I don't want to hurt her, not now that we're just meet again.

Nat smiles at me weakly then her gaze falls on the clock hanging on the wall, she gets up and holds out her hand to me.

"Come on, Tony is waiting for us"

I look at her hand and, with my heart galloping furiously in my chest, I accept it and get up too.

Together wrapped in the surreal silence that reigns in the large building we reach the meeting room.

When we are a few steps away from our destination without realizing it I begin to slow down.

Nat notices this and turns to me.

"It's okay, Lily"

My frightened eyes say what my mouth can't do.

Her hand rests on my shoulder, in a gesture aimed at encouraging me.

"Everything will be fine.Trust me”

And how can I not trust her?

I nod and take a deep breath I force myself and take the last steps that separate me from Steve.

As soon as I cross the threshold the first thing I notice is Loki's pleased gaze and Steve's murderous one.

Surely Loki will have enjoyed teasing him.

I advance until I reach his side, positioning myself between him and Layla.

In front of me, in front of some monitors are Tony, Steve, Lang and Rhodey.

The latter greets me with a smile and a nod.

Slowly I move my gaze towards Natasha and remain as if petrified.

"Bruce?"

“Hi, Elisabeth” he replies, approaching me and hugging me.

I look at him awkward and astonished.

What the hell happened to him?

He smiles scratching the back of his neck.

"I know...the first time always made this effect" he chuckles pointing to himself.

“Yeah…you…you...you have clothes on, that's great” I stammer not knowing what the hell to say.

Loki next to me just squirms, he and the Hulk don't have a great past behind them.

I chuckle, turning my head to the side, where I find Steve staring at me with the same amused expression.

I'm sure he's enjoying a little revenge watching the brave and snooty god shrink in fear.

Thank goodness the first to break eye contact is Steve, I wouldn't have had the strength.

Despite everything that has happened, despite the past years, having him in the same room and not being able to touch or hug him is really difficult.

Almost painful.

Knowing that he's not mine anymore is painful.

Knowing that he doesn't love me anymore is fucking painful.

"Ok...so...I'll be as short as possible" exclaims Tony suddenly catching the attention of all of us present.

Reluctantly I look away from Steve, I have to focus on Tony's words but if I keep staring at all those muscles I'm sure I won't be able to.

As I move my gaze to Tony I find Nat's green eyes staring at me insistently, a mischievous smile curls her lips.

Shit!

I got caught staring at Steve.

I try to act indifferent and by getting a little closer to Loki I try to appear relaxed.

He, unaware of what is happening, smiles at me.

"In the meantime I would like to thank all of you for being here but unfortunately we are still too few, so I would have some favors to ask you" Tony starts again taking a step forward.

"Loki, could you contact your brother?" he asks turning to us.

Loki nods.

"Romanoff, you could convince Barton to join us"

"Sure, no problem"

"I have already proceeded to gather the raccoon and Nebula" replies Tony with a smile.

"We need all the help we can get.It won't be easy but we'll do our best and bring everyone back” exclaims Rhodey with conviction.

Layla by my side fidgets nervously, her big, deep dark eyes blazing.

She is ready to face even the flames of hell to get Sam back.

And the same ardor shines in Natasha's eyes, she too will fight until her last breath to have the great love of her life back by her side.

Oh my God, I'm a horrible person.

I feel ungrateful to life.

I look down full of guilt.

These women are ready to die for their men and I chased mine out of my life, throwing him away like garbage.

I feel the tears pinch my eyes and squeeze them as hard as I can.

I can't collapse here.

I can't do it now.

Someone taps gently on my shoulder and when I look up my eyes meet Loki's worried face.

“Are you all right, Elisabeth?Your eyes…”

At his words I close them immediately and breathing deeply I try to calm down.

"Yeah, I'm fine.I'm fine" I murmur and when I open my eyes I realize that there is no one left in the large room.

It's just me and Loki.

Loki brings his big hands to my arms, rubbing them gently.

There is no need for words between us, the pain shines through my every single breath and I don't need to speak to let him know about my torment.

"Look, I'm going to Tony now and I get a room for the night"

I laugh.

"You go get some air, okay?" my friend continues.

I nod and getting up on tiptoe I leave a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, Loki.Thank you for everything, thank you for these last five years” I say holding his hand.

He smiles at me softly shaking his head.

“No need.I have to thank you, little witch.And you know it”

So he says he goes away leaving me alone.

As I walk to the Compound's large terrace, I am reminded of the night I met Loki.

I had discovered a few weeks ago about the relationship between Steve and Sharon, it was the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep.

I was alone at the great Sanctuary, Wong was away on a spiritual trip to Nepal and Layla together with his little Paul were spending some time at Sam's sister's house.

Unable to sleep I went to the library but as soon as I left my room someone knocked on the big door.

It was night and a storm was raging outside, who the hell could it be?

With my heart in my throat, I went down the grand staircase hugging myself in my warm robe.

When I opened the door in front of me there was the last person I would ever have imagined seeing.

Loki with his hair flattened by the rain and his clothes dripping with water stood there, staring at me.

"Loki?" I asked with a wave of astonishment.

What was he doing here and above all how he had found me?

"Excuse me Lady Elisabeth, but I didn't know where else to go"

His dull and sad voice had convinced me to step aside and with a nod of the head I invited him to enter.

Together we headed to the kitchen and after giving him a blanket and a hot tea I asked him the question that mattered to me at the moment.

"How did you find me?"

Only Layla and Tony with his wife knew where I was and I highly doubted they had been the ones to tell him.

Loki shrugged.

“My brother told me what happened between you and Captain Rogers, so I immediately thought about this place.After all, this is your home”

His response had shocked me, the simplicity with which he had formulated that simple thought and arrived at the exact solution was truly amazing.

We were silent for a few more minutes, then I took courage again and asked him what he was doing here.

His response was heartbreaking.

“Remember the business I had to manage in the Nine Kingdoms?Well…it didn't go as I hoped.She is no longer there.She disappeared with the snap”

That was how I found out about Sygin.

She was Loki's wife, a wife he had hid from everyone so far to protect her.

Only Thor knew of her.

"Sorry if I ask you, why didn't you go to Thor?"

The question came spontaneously, the two brothers have always been very close and I doubt that Thor refused to help his beloved brother.

“Thor is happy now, he and Jane have reunited and I don't want to give him any more worries.So I thought of you.I know I ask you a lot lady Elisabeth but I assure you it will be for a few days, as soon as I find another place I will go away.I promise you”

And so it was that those few days became five years.

Little by little we became friends, we helped each other in the hardest moments of our lives and in addition he was a really good master of magic.

Smiling I reach the terrace but my smile fades as my heart skips a beat.

In front of me, with his arms resting on the balustrade, is Steve.

I stop for a moment to observe him.

His broad shoulders are wrapped in a white shirt while his gorgeous ass is wrapped in a pair of light-colored jeans.

I feel a flush of heat starting from the center in my heart and expanding into the rest of my body, inflaming my head and between my legs.

The first instinct is to turn around and walk away but irrationally I advance until I reach his side.

I too take the same position as him.

His head slowly turns towards me, I can feel his gaze on my face but I don't have the courage to look into his eyes.

I don't trust myself at the moment.

I swallow empty.

"You cut your hair"

His voice sends shivers down my spine.

I observing the starry sky extending over our heads.

"Yeah"

"Why did you do it?"

I can't stop the words that like a raging river roll inexorably along my tongue.

"Because you liked them"

His hands, strong but gentle, clench into two fists as his gaze slips from my face.

The veins pulsate wildly beneath his soft velvet skin.

I know, he didn't expect such an answer.

This time I'm the one who turns to him.

I observe his profile, beautiful and perfect as a painting of a god, as he continues to look straight ahead.

“You cut your hair too.And the beard.Why?" I ask.

Not that he's not painfully handsome but I have to admit that with a wilder look he has an edge.

He has that I don't know what that makes you lose your mind...and that makes you spread your legs inexorably.

I involuntarily blush at my own thought.

Steve slowly turns to me.

Our eyes are chained and in my stomach millions of butterflies take flight.

I feel a bit like the prey that is bewitched by its predator, I know that watching him enchanted will be my death but I can't help it.

"Because you liked them" he whispers faintly in response.

Inside of me I am screaming, crying, bleeding but outside I remain impassive.

Tears of blood that dig into my heart leaving his name branded in fire.

I plant my nails in the palms of my hands to avoid lifting them and caressing that face that seems corroded from pain.

But is it really pain after all?

He managed to forget, he managed to love again.

Perhaps more than pain it is just nostalgia for the lack of those who kept us united many years ago.

Our children.

"Your eyes, Lily" Steve whispers confused but intrigued at the same time.

I know what he's seeing…and I can't afford to lose my mind right now.

Steve takes a step towards me slowly raising his hand, as if he wants to stroke my face.

I can't, I can't deal with it now.

I don't want.

I take a few steps back and close my eyes, squeezing them tightly.

"Yeah...I...I have to go"

I turn my back on him and I walk away without looking back.

I walk away without giving him an answer like I did five years ago.

The only difference?

Five years ago the broken heart was his.

Today is mine.

Steve POV

We have all worked non-stop for days but in the end everything is ready.

The machinery that will allow us to travel in time has finally been completed and in a few minutes Scott Lang will carry out a time travel test.

My nerves are on edge and I'd be lying if I said it entirely depends on what we're about to deal with.

The biggest source of my stress is due to Lily's presence, her presence and that of her new boyfriend.

Not that they have ever done anything too explicit in front of the others, after all they have always and only limited themselves to a few hugs and hundreds of fleeting glances, but that didn't help me at all.

Just knowing that him, in the intimacy of their room, can hold her, touch her, love her is enough to literally drive me out of my mind.

And in me as well as increasing jealousy increases more and more the burning desire to punch that fucking son of a bitch in the face.

I shake my head and trying to slow my frenzied heartbeat I reach Bruce, Rhodey and Nebula who are preparing Scott for the time travel test.

"Time travel suit.Not bad" I say to Scott alongside Bruce.

Scott fidgets nervously as Bruce arranges the vials with the Pym Particles.

"All right.Do you know what?I'm not ready for this" suddenly exclaims Scott, taking us all by surprise.

What does this mean now?

"I'm game.I'll do it" exclaims a self-confident voice behind us and I don't even need to turn around to figure out who it belongs to.

I turn slowly, clenching my jaw.

“Oh no, no, no, no Lily.It's too dangerous" I say shacking my head.

Lily raises an eyebrow and laughing heartily she looks at me from top to bottom.

"I'm not asking for your permission, Captain Rogers"

Her arrogance makes my blood boil in my veins.

Stubborn.

Stubborn and reckless, she has always been like this.

Lily advances boldly, her legs wrapped in a pair of indecently tight gray leggings while her breasts are wrapped in a white tank top that leaves very little room for imagination.

I move uncomfortably trying to hide my erection soaring wildly in my boxers, I really think it's not the best time to think of her naked and pleading under me...it's not the best time yet now that my mind has painted that image I can't think of anything else.

I shake my head to try to free it from any thoughts other than the success of this arduous undertaking.

Nebula helps Scott take off the suit and helps Lily put it on.

Her shapely and sinful body stands out like a vision in this suit.

I bite the inside of my cheek preventing me from letting my thoughts about her run undisturbed.

"Lily, now you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift.Don't worry about that" informs Bruce as Nebula makes the final adjustments to the suit.

“Wait a second.Let me asking you something” Rhodey asks suddenly, turning to Bruce.

"If we can do this, you know...go back in time, why we don’t just find baby Thanos.You know, and..." he continues and then mimics the gesture of choking someone.

Immediately my gaze falls on Lily who is visibly refraining herself from smiling.

From what I see, the idea of being able to kill Thanos is not something that would only cheer me up.

"First of all, that’s horrible" exclaims Bruce in disgust.

"It's Thanos!" Lily exclaims as Rhodey nods at her words.

"And secondly, time doesn't work that way.Changing the past doesn't change the future" Bruce interrupts them pretending not to have even heard them.

Lily and Rhodey exchange a half-amused glance.

"Look we go back, we gets the Stones before Thanos get them...Thanos doesn’t have the Stones.Problem solved" Lang intrudes into the discussion, seeking Bruce’s approval.

"Bingo!" Lily exclaims nodding at Scott's words.

Bruce sighs as he pinches the base of his nose.

"That’s not how it works"

"Well, that’s what I’ve heard" murmurs Lily with a shrug, getting a curious glance from both, me and Bruce.

Bruce raises an eyebrow with a skeptical expression.

His huge arms cross in front of his broad chest.

"Wait, but who?Who told you that?" he asks.

Lily shrugs again.

"Star Trek, Terminator, Timecop..." she begins listing using her fingers.

I can't believe it.

I would like to laugh at her recklessness.

"Time After Time.Quantum Leap” Scott encourages her.

The two share a smile.

“Wrinkle in time.Somewhere in Time” intervenes Rhodey.

"Hot Tub Time Machine" finally exclaim Scott and Lily at the same time.

“Basically, any movie that dials with time travel.This is known” continues Rhodey.

Bruce and I exchange an incredulous glance.

“But this is not a movie.You have to put this in your head” I reproach them.

It is absurd that they can even think that this is all a joke.

"Exactly" gives reason to him Nebula.

"I don't know why everyone believes that, but that isn't true" Dr. Banner tries to make them think, “Think about it.If you travel to the past…that past becomes your future and your former present becomes the past.Which can't now be changed by your new future"

Lily seems to understand Bruce's reasoning and although she reluctantly nods at his words.

"So, Back to the Future is a bunch of bullshit?" Scott asks almost shocked.

Lily joins him and patting him on the back she exclaims giggling "I know man, it's shocking"

All together we head to the large platform that will allow Lily to move through time.

"All rights, Lily" Bruce exclaims in her direction.

I just cross my arms in front of my chest, violently sinking my fingers into my biceps.

I can't bear the idea that something could happen to her.

What if something goes wrong?

What if she never comes back?

Meanwhile, Tony, Nat and the unmissable Loki join us.

The latter approaches Lily to murmur something in her ear, she smiles and kisses his cheek, then she activates her helmet that covers her face.

I look down at my shoes as Natasha at my side gently rubs a hand on my back.

"We're going in three, two... one!" Bruce yells at her trying to overcome the noise emitted by the machine and the incessant beep produced by the buttons he keeps pressing.

A moment later a tunnel of light opens under Lily's feet and she shrinks until she disappears.

I take a few steps devoured by fear.

The seconds go by endlessly.

"Bruce?How long does it take for her to return?" I ask without turning.

My voice trembles.

I don't give a fuck if Loki is here, I don't care what he thinks.

Get pissed off if he wants to.

I can't help being terrified and I don't even want to try.

Lily is the great love of my life and she will always be, whether he likes it or not.

We are soulmates.

"Don't worry, Cap.In a few moments she will be back here" Tony tries to reassure me reaching my side.

His hand rests on my shoulder and squeezes it tightly.

Our eyes are chained.

"If anything happens to her I..."

The words die in my throat.

I can't even think of such a thing.

"I know man, I know"

Tony knows perfectly well that my love for her has never died.

"But she doesn't know" I stammer pathetically.

Tony smiles, a real smile, one that even reaches his eyes.

“Oh well, then you are gonna have to tell her.Don't you think?"

Suddenly in front of us the quantum tunnel reopens and Lily finally reappears.

She is kneeling with her hands clasped to her chest.

Her shoulders rise and fall furiously, as if she's trying to catch her breath.

No matter how many limits and rules I have imposed on myself to stay away from her...my feet move by themselves.

I rush to her side, kneeling right next to her.

Natasha joins me a few moments later.

The former Black Widow and I exchange a worried look.

"Hey.Hey, look at me" I whisper to Lily, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

At the precise moment that my fingertips touch her sweaty forehead a discharge of pure electricity runs through me, leaving me stunned for a few moments.

"You ok?" I ask her as she slowly turns her face to me.

Her eyes, black as night, are covered with glowing veins like molten lava.

She reaches out her little hands to me showing me her precious treasure.

“It worked, it worked Steve” she whispers as a lonely tear runs down her face, "It worked" she repeats showing me what she is holding on to her chest squeezing it hard.

Instinctively my eyes fill with tears.

It is Natalia's favorite doll, she never separated from it.

I grab the doll with a trembling hand bringing it close to my face and sinking it on it.

The sweet and fruity scent of my little girl fills my nostrils and warms my heart.

I sit on the floor next to Lily unable to even move a muscle.

“I've seen us.We were out on the porch, watching the girls play.We were there, happy” Lily murmurs before bursting into tears.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly against my body.

“We were there, Steve” she repeats through tears, sinking her face into my chest.

Her small, delicate hands cling tightly to my shirt.

“I know, honey.I know” I answer her, kissing her hair.

Her pain, so alive and burning, awakens mine.

For a moment I look up from the wonder in my arms and the first eyes I meet is just that of Loki.

I don't look away and just stare at him.

He doesn't seem angry, he just looks at me back.

The certainty of the feelings Lily has for him authorizes him to look at me almost as if he were amused, as if he was waiting with joy for the moment when she will reject me.

But honestly I don't care.

I look down at her again, holding her like I hadn't done in five years, enjoying the warmth of her body.

I don't care if she belongs to someone else now, I don't care because I'm ready to fight to the death to get her back by my side.

Slowly remembering how her small body fits perfectly with mine.

Muscle memory.

The memory of my heart.

Lily just pulls away from my embrace, her eyes are now completely black again.

Wide open and full of tears.

I put both hands on her cheeks and stroking her cheekbones with my thumbs I wipe away her tears.

She closes her eyes, relaxing in my hands as if my touch helped her get better.

"I promise you, I'll do everything to get things back to the way they used to be" I whispered a few inches from her face.

Lily opens her eyes and her mouth barely opens, her warm breath breaking against my face unleashing the fury in me.

The desire to close the distance and take possession of her lips burns inside me.

I need all my willpower not to do it...but deep down I'm just a man, with my weaknesses, and so I get close to resting my lips on her forehead.

I feel her tremble under my touch.

"I promise you" I repeat her.

I slowly walk away from her and holding out my hand I help her to get up.

She accepts my hand with a shy smile and once standing, without letting go of my hand, she turns to Bruce and Tony.

“It worked, guys.It fucking worked”

The two men exchange a pleased look, both have a huge smile on their faces.

And I, holding hands with the love of my life, can finally feel truly confident about this mission.

We will soon embrace all the people we have lost and then I will do my best to get my family back.

To get my sweet Lily back.

Please comment, share and rate ❤️

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@deansapplepie

[thedyingboard]

- picture a mortar shell with two halves, a front and a back

- mortar gets launch, any old Iron Dome goes to intercept

- Defense missile about to hit, so back of mortar detaches and explosively ejects, masking it in just "more explosion" and "just a piece breaking off from the explosion"

- back half is made to look like mortar debris, may a decor shell starts shredding from it to sell that look.

- then as that piece is falling, IT breaks in half- BAM there is a unfolding quadcopter coming out of it

- That quadcopter is now "behind" whichever Iron Dome

- It can either be the payload and kamikaze, or have a payload it can drop while still being able to surveil.

- another is if there was another mortar section that is designed to drop to the ground and survive

- that lands and waits like 3 minutes, then dispenses RC cars like the one in Rainbow Six: Siege.

- Oh but the front piece can actually be hollow and filled with igneous rock, so the missile hitting it melts the igneous rock into lava which rains down like holy fire from the sky.

Picture a prototype version of the Hammer of Dawn https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=vYemO-RGGBw

- the front half of the mortar, guess what, also breaks in half so the missile flies through the pieces and maybe isn't remote operated so it hits an unintended target further away.

- This is cause it was just a "simple mortar shell with a defined trajectory, so no need to send a guidable missile"

- Bam the defenders now waste money sending controllable missiles at everything.

- Bam the nation that supplies the defenders now has worse healthcare and social services as this unjust holy war far far away is seen as more as a threat so the leaders dump more money on the fire and squeeze their populace dry as they can't admit that maybe they messed up and just have to quadruple down now.

- Those leaders now have the monotonous life drones they desire as civilians as everyone is either indoctrinated to have the viewpoint desired by their leaders or just in shock at the insanity when 10 trillion dollars go to this war effort.

- And anybody that would resist just accepts this or offs themselves, so the military and supplying nation leaders see this as a self-solving problem, and bring up aliens for a 50th time as a diversion from how crippling simply being born is as maternity mortality rates skyrocket from lack of adequate care.

- Suddenly Anonymous Aliens hacks every tv in the supplying nation and plays the clip of Fred Rogers facing the Senate and saying "I can stop when I want to, can stop when I wish. I can stop, stop, stop anytime. that helps us become what we can"

- But the supplying nation has leaders that don't have an accessible heart to change, instead of Senator Pastore, and one leader says "Looks like the war effort just won the 20 trillion dollars."

- then everyone clapped as everyone is just insane and internally begging for it to stop at this point, even the leader that okayed the spending.

- But the momentum of war won against everyone's humanity.

- The end. It stopped because of WW3. and "who had the highest bank account before the world ended" scoreboard which gets displayed next to the Rosetta stone cause some trillionaire paid for it.

- Insert Planet of The Apes Obelisk Scene except insert Jesus who decides that monkeys are where it's at and comes back to them. Then he just laughs himself to death when the monkeys invent guns. Then he rises in 3.1415.... days solely to laugh himself to death again.

- Then he repeats this in infinity as some Pi joke while handing out infinitely multiplying pies on Pi Day, as some Parallel Parable of the Fish.

[randomshyperson]

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Five

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 6.622k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Five - The Witch World - Part I

You were blacked out and Wanda was at a peak of irritation.

With America's help she dragged you by your jacket across the ground - whatever universe you all fell into now, the sunny green forest was infinitely better than the craters of before - and placed you against a tree, panting softly at the physical exertion as she waved her hands to clear the dust. America checked you, you didn't look like you were going to wake up now, but at least you were breathing, before looking at Wanda with a grimace.

"I thought she was your friend." Said the girl, and Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"Wife actually."

"Not Y/N." America clarified crossing her arms. "The huntress."

Wanda rolls her eyes, sighing impatiently. "I merely said I knew her and no, America, that Natasha was not my friend. My Nat is dead." Wanda retorted with a certain bitterness in her voice. "Don't blame me for what happened, it wasn't me who took us to a world in pieces. And if Y/N hadn't taken my magic, I would have been able to read her mind and know that we would be betrayed!"

America sighs in defeat and uncrosses her arms. "Okay, you have a point. Let's not fight, okay? First, because you're kind of scary, and second because Y/N needs help."

Wanda tried not to get so upset about the scary part, but she couldn't really blame America, figuring her appearance shouldn't be one of the better ones now after all the fighting, two interdimensional trips, and the marks of dark hold use. She cleared her throat and looked around, searching for any sign of civilization.

"You can't tell what kind of universe we are in, I imagine." Murmurs the witch as America sits down beside you, wiping some of the grass on your clothes.

"No, ma'am." America retorted. "Not until I arrive."

"An impressive use of your skills." She scoffed and America grimaced.

"Oh I'm sorry, were you born knowing all about your magic then?" She retorted naughtily and Wanda rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "For your information, I just need to train a little. Y/N has been helping me with that. I wonder why of all the Wandas we've met she picked the meanest..."

"Shut up." Wanda commands between teeth.

"And rude too."

"No, America, seriously, be quiet." Repeated the witch looking around, and the child blinked in confusion, and tried to do the same but noticed nothing strange.

Before she could ask, however, she heard in the distance a noise that sounded like trotting. Soon, a wagon appeared on the road a few yards from them and Wanda let out an exclamation before running to wave the driver to stop.

The man looked like a farmer, and was quite startled to say the least by a woman dressed in red jumping in front of the horses - who were also startled - but was kind enough to stop, especially since he saw you and America.

Wanda quickly made up a story about a robbery and without delay, you were put in the back of the wagon. Wanda sat in the front, and America stood beside you.

"We only have healers in town, it's almost an hour away." Commented the driver, casting glances back as he noticed you groaning in pain in your sleep. "Do you think she can wait?"

"Yeah, she's strong." America answered before Wanda, and shrugged at the witch's expression before adding "We've faced worse."

Wanda swallowed dryly, a wave of guilt filling her chest. She knew the "worse" was the creatures she sent, and imagining that she hurt you made her feel very awful.

The driver brought Wanda out of her thoughts when he started to pull up a subject.

"Pardon my asking madam, but you are not from around here are you?" He said looking between the road and her. Wanda cleared her throat.

"Not really." She answered vaguely. 

"Are you from the south?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Really?" The man exclaimed excitedly, surprising Wanda in her lie. "I knew you were a witch!" He comments with an excited smile, but his gaze hesitates with Wanda's arched brow. "I-I didn't mean that in a bad way of course. It was because of the dress, Miss. I thought it might be a noblewoman too, but for the lack of a carriage or guards, I assumed you'd be one of the forest creatures. How exciting, giving a witch a ride."

Wanda bit her tongue, thinking about her next questions as the man muttered to himself what an honorable thing it was to help a magical being, and about his family never believed the story once he told it. She exchanged a look with America in the back - who shrugged, slightly surprised - before deciding to ask about the magic in that world.

"Now we have plenty of magic here in the North, despite what they say in the rest of the country." Said the man defensively. "Of course, it's not the same since the Witches left these parts, but we still have dwarves! They own almost every business in the village, and you haven't heard this from me, but everyone knows that merchants hide potions from the Valley of Silence in their potato boxes that go east."

The man gave a little laugh, and Wanda thought it best to do the same, trying to pretend she knew everything he was talking about. 

"My, hm, daughter here loves to hear stories of magic, maybe you could please us with some..." Wanda suggested and the man seemed very excited about the idea, wasting no time in getting started.

All the way to the village, Wanda and America learned more about that world. It was magical in nature, with dozens of species she had heard about in fairy tales. Kingdoms were divided among magical creatures, and the driver's excitement was due to the fact that witches lived in the south, and only visited the rest of the country for work. The money was gold coins or silver nickels, all made by goblins, and Wanda was trying to figure out how she was going to get this to pay for an appointment - not getting too hopeful when the man made a joke about treasure chests protected by dragons. 

The village was medieval and lived up to the stories. There were humans, but America let out an excited exclamation as soon as her eyes met a centaur. There were also Goblins, Fairies, many Fauns, and monster hunters who, although they looked human, had brightly colored eyes and were very strong. 

"Here we are, let me help you." Said the man getting off the wagon as soon as he stopped the vehicle in front of an establishment with a symbol that should mean healing or something. Wanda didn't recognize it when she opened the door.

It was a simple place, it looked like an apothecary from a fantasy movie. There was a back door that should lead to the office, and as soon as Wanda entered the place by the front door, the man who was reading inside raised his eyes from his book.

Man was not the right term, actually. Wanda's eyes widened slightly at the blue beast behind the counter. She didn't want to stare, but the image was shocking to say the least. The stranger didn't even notice, quickly moving as he saw the wagon driver bring you inside.

"Mr. Howlett quickly this way," he guided the way to the little room. The whole group went, and the Howlett man put you on a stretcher inside, while Wanda twiddled her fingers nervously, looking around. “What happened to her?”

"R-robbery." Wanda lied half hesitantly. 

"I found them past the royal road, I came as fast as I could." Howlett explained as the blue beast moved to pick up what Wanda imagined were medical objects from that world. "Maybe they were demons. How did you say the outlaws look like, miss?"

"I didn't." Wanda muttered, half uncertain as to what those things were that this healer was holding. "Excuse me, sir, what is that for...?"

But the blue beast ignored her, beginning to mumble some things and gesture with his hands around your body. 

As you began to have spasms on the stretcher, Wanda stepped forward with concern. "What are you doing to her?"  She questioned loudly, but the man held up his hand for her not to approach, and Wanda only obeyed because, with the next muttering in another language, you stopped twitching, seeming to calm down a bit, your breathing growing quieter.

"Howlett, you did the right thing in bringing them to me. Thank you. Now I imagine you need to go, Charles and Laura should not be left alone on the farm at times of a full moon." Said the healer, and the farmer nodded in agreement, looking at you one last time before turning to Wanda and America.

"It was a pleasure to meet and help, Miss Witch." He said and Wanda smiled short, nodding.

"Thank you, Mr.Howlett."

"Logan is just fine." He says with a small chuckle, the wrinkles of age on his cheeks. "Before you head back south if you'd like, you're welcome to visit and meet my family. We would be honored to welcome a witch into our home. We live at the end of the royal road, you can get our address from Healer Hank if you like." Logan said and Wanda smiled at him before the man waved goodbye and left the room.

The doctor waited for the door to close before speaking again.

"It is not my place to question a witch, but as a healer, I must ask in order to find the best treatment." Hank said. "And forgive me for the language, but by the sacred Gaea, how did she come into contact with unholy magic?"

Wanda blinked in surprise. Okay, think of a good lie, quick.

America was talking before she could, "Blue dude, the truth is we're not from this universe, my friend was thrown between some magic mirrors while fighting this witch and now her cuts won't heal!"

Wanda looked at the child with indignation while Hank stood for a good few minutes in shock. America just shrugged, muttering a justification about the world being magical, but Wanda was sighing and rubbing her forehead.

"Look, my daughter loves jokes..."

"Universe travelers." Hank interrupted impressed, taking off his glasses. "What an amazing thing."

"Wait, so you believe us?" Wanda asked in surprise, and Hank giggled.

"Your daughter is right, witch. We are a magical people, and I know the ancient legends about other worlds. Of course, I've never met a traveler before, but Southern Witches deal with that sort of thing all the time in the capital."

"See, I told you it would be fine." America grumbled giving a gentle nudge to Wanda who sighed. 

"Well, Mr.Hank, to shorten the story, we had a little conflict and she got hurt in a so-called mirror dimension. I didn't use any magic despite what the girl says. It was Y/N who put a spell on my head and then took away my powers, and now she is getting sick and I can't help her!" Declared the witch with frustration. Seeing the expression of the other two, she took a deep breath and lowered her tone. "So please, if you have any ideas on how to cure her, I would be very grateful."

Hank cleared his throat. "Well, Miss, I don't know how things are in your world, but here, we don't treat impure magic carelessly." He says motioning to one of the cabinets at the back. "Witches and nobles control and categorize all use of magic, from potions to the simplest of spells. Whatever your friend has messed with, it is unholy magic and is banned in all realms. I can clean the wounds and make stitches, but what I have here won't do much good in healing her."

Wanda sighed in frustration, running a hand over her face. Hank returned nearby with more familiar items - needles and cotton wool - and sat down beside your stretcher. 

Wanda was about to suggest to America that they try another universe when the doctor continued speaking.

"Of course, all is not lost. You are a witch, even if not of this universe. You can go to the capital and ask your sisters for help." He says and Wanda lets out a short laugh for the term, remembering her last interaction with another witch.

"That'll be great." Wanda wryly mocks, turning her gaze back to you. "Do you think you can wake her up?"

Hank raises an eyebrow. "Oh, miss, she should rest. You see, the gestures I made earlier are blessing spells. The unholy magic is in the wounds, but it is very strong in the area of her head. Maybe sleep is a defense for whatever is in there."

Wanda swallowed dryly, being able to deduce what you were doing. "Okay, hm, clean up the bruises then. We'll wait."

Hank smiled, and they watched him get to work. But a moment later, America was nudging Wanda with her elbow.

"I'm hungry." She said, and Wanda frowned.

"Can't you wait?"

"For how long?"

Wanda let out a loud sigh, and Hank let out a chuckle. 

"There's a fair market down the street. You can buy something for the kid, I'll stay for a while sewing the stitches." He said without taking his eyes off the bruises he was cleaning.

Wanda hesitated but America's expression made her sigh and lead the way out.

Once they were outside, America asked:

"Why didn't you correct him?"

Wanda frowned in confusion, not stopping walking as America followed her. "What are you talking about?"

"Hank called Y/N your friend." America clarified. "Earlier, you corrected me to call her your wife. Why didn't you do the same to him?"

Wanda sighed half impatiently. "It's a medieval and unknown world, America. She needs help and I don't know how tolerant people are."

"Tolerant?" America repeated confused and Wanda frowned.

"Yes, with queer people." Wanda retorted looking at her. "You know how that works, right? I noticed the badge on your jacket..."

"Oh, right. This thing." America said clumsily, looking down at her pride badge for a second before turning back to Wanda as they walked. "Y/N bought this for me actually. In my world, we didn't have those denominations... There are only women there, you know. So, well, we didn't have that kind of thing."

"That sounds lovely." Wanda commented and sounded really sincere, offering a small smile to America, who was also smiling.

"Yeah, it was." She said half nostalgically. And then cleared her throat to continue the story. "Anyway, when Y/N told me about marriage and her Wanda, she also mentioned something about her parents not going to the wedding. And I was surprised by that so she explained to me about sexualities and about some people and customs that don't accept when two same-sex people love each other. And a couple of universes later, we went out for donuts and a girl wrote her number on my cup and of course, I turned into a shy mess. Y/N, after tormenting me during the whole breakfast, also asked me how I felt about love, and I told her that I never thought about boys and she told me she was going to get me a present. In the next universe, she got me this badge and said it meant I was proud to love girls."

Wanda can't help but smile at the story, finding it really very sweet. She can't say much more, because they reached the fair and she stopped walking, putting an arm in front of America for her to do the same. Wanda looked around at the food stalls and people. When she saw some who looked like they were from church with baskets in their hands and a bell, the witch commented:

“Okay, we don’t have money so I think we could try those cardinals who seem to be donating bread…

“Or we could steal.” America suggests making Wanda look at her in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?"

The girl shrugged. "Y/N and I do it all the time when we're out of money where is needed."

"Oh, she taught you to steal? Such an example, I swear." Wanda wryly commented, rubbing her forehead. "Let's stick to my idea, okay?"

America shrugged, following Wanda as she led the way to the cardinals. The religious's gentle smile turned to hesitant expressions as soon as she approached, however.

"Hello, I wonder if we could...?" Wanda began but was interrupted when the man got down on his knees, extending the basket full of loaves of bread to her. 

"Please, Witch, take it all." He said in a mixture of panic and admiration. He kept his head down, and his hands were trembling. Wanda and America both widened their eyes in surprise, and the other two religious men seemed half hesitant to kneel as well. "It is an honor to serve you."

"Cool, free food." America said casually understanding her hand to grab several pieces - receiving a look from the witch to which she only shrugged - before Wanda cleared her throat and extended her hand to the kneeling man.

"Sir, you don't have to bow..." She began but as soon as she touched him, he shuddered, widening his eyes and jumping backward.

"An impure witch!" He charged now evidently in fear, and his speech attracted everyone's attention. "I feel the devil in you, you filthy witch! She is with the devil! May the mother of all take pity on us! Gaea mercy your soul!" 

The whole fair began to stare and whisper, and the religious people in the back began to mutter among themselves something that sounded like prayers, while the man crawled away in fear, shouting his accusations.

Wanda felt her heart racing, panic rising in her chest. She remembers very well the last time she had been in the center of a circle, with people pointing their fingers and accusing her. But this time, America give her a tug on the arm.

"Let's go back to Y/N, Wanda." She asked and Wanda took a deep breath, pushing the emotion away and guiding the way back at high speed.

Wanda felt the judging glances all the way back, but she just pulled America with her and kept walking, hoping that no one would be bold enough to approach them.

When they finally reached the apothecary, she sighed with relief and America looked at her curiously.

"Are you okay?" The girl asked, half surprised that the most intimidating witch she had ever met suddenly looked so disturbed about ugly stares. Wanda cleared her throat, straightening her posture and releasing the child's forearm.

"I'm fine." She snapped back, making her way to the room where you were. 

"Okay, sorry for asking." America sneered at her aggressiveness, following the witch inside.

The two of them stopped tense in surprise to find not only Hank - who was kneeling on the floor - and you in the room, but two other figures. Two women wearing elegant white robes with various gold details. The taller one had long gray hair, but the shorter one drew much more attention.

"There's a lot of blue people in this world, huh?" America commented low beside Wanda, and the witch nudged her playfully, America's speech attracting the attention of everyone in the room. The women took their attention away from you and looked at her.

"Travelers, welcome." Greeted the gray-haired one. The smaller one stepped forward.

"Kneel to the High Priestess." She warned, and Wanda raised an eyebrow. The gray-haired one giggled, gesturing to her colleague.

"Raven, please, it's not necessary." She says and with protest from the other, she adds, "Our ways are not the same on all worlds."

The one Raven sighs in defeat, but puts her head down and doesn't insist any further. Wanda swallows dryly, trying to think of exactly how she was going to solve this without magic.

"Ladies, it is an honor to welcome you into our Kingdom." Repeated the tallest one. "My name is Ororo Munroe, I am the High Priestess of the Royal Council of Witches. And I invite you to an audience in our sacred temple."

"Invite or demand?" Wanda challenges surprising the woman. Raven clenches her jaw.

"Impure Witch don't you dare disrespect-"

"Raven." The Priestess cuts in and the other shuts up, lowering her head again. Ororo smiles. "It is an honor to welcome interdimensional travelers, yet we have rules to protect ourselves from those who are not well-intentioned. I'm sure you can be reasonable about that, Miss...?"

"Wanda Maximoff, but you can call me Scarlet Witch."

The Priestess' eyes widen in surprise, and Raven squints. 

"Impossible! Lady, she is lying. Punish her for her blasphemy!" Raven exclaims but Ororo raises her hand to her and the woman bites her tongue to shut up.

Ororo takes a step toward Wanda, and the woman covers America with her body on instinct.

"That is a very dangerous statement, Miss Maximoff."

"Dangerous is to test my patience." Bluffs the other with eyes glittering with anger. "I am visiting your universe, and I will not cause trouble if I am not challenged. Your people are knowledgeable enough to know the extent of my abilities."

An impressed glint passes through the Priest's eyes, and the room goes into a tense silence. But then she nods softly and says. "Forgive our indiscretion, Scarlet Witch. It was never my or my people's intention to offend or defy you." Assures the woman and Wanda swallow dryly quietly, mentally praying that no one buys a fight. "My sisters and I monitor the use of magic throughout the kingdom, which is why we have been requested with your arrival. I regret to inform you that I cannot allow you to leave the kingdom without calculating exactly how much damage two witches expelling dark magic and a child of power have caused. And I would like this to be done peacefully."

"I won't repeat myself." Wanda says seriously but this time, Ororo smiles and doesn't reach her eyes.

"Miss Maximoff, I insist. And I assure you that the examinations are not invasive or uncomfortable, and to your delight, besides having what it takes to wake your friend, our healers know how to reverse the blockage in the magical flow in your body."

Wanda blinks in surprise, but at the offer to have her magic back, she sighs and nods. America tries to tug on her sleeve, but she pulls her arm to herself, and murmurs:

"Play along." She warns low before forcing a smile at Priest.

The next moment, the woman's eyes turn completely ashen, and before they can ask, thunder explodes outside. Without delay, a heavy rain begins to fall.

"The water will erase the presence of you and your impure magic on the road and in the village." She explains before turning to her colleague. "Raven, in consideration of your friendship with Mr.McCoy, I give you my blessing to alter his memory yourself. Erase the visitors from his mind, please. And join us when you are finished here." Said the woman, and Raven nodded obediently.

Ororo hovered a hand over you, and your body was enveloped in a white mist, which lifted you onto the stretcher. Then she opened a portal in the middle of the room of the same color, through which on the other side a very beautiful hall was visible.

The Priestess entered first, your sleeping body floating behind her inside. Wanda swallowed dryly, and when America held the sleeve of her blouse again, she didn't pull back.

"Are you sure about this?" Whispered the girl, and Wanda forced an assured smile.

"Y/N needs help, and I need my magic back."

"But Wanda..."

"Just trust me." She interrupts before moving toward the portal, and America follows hesitantly.

–//–

Despite their initial mistrust, Ororo was not lying to them.

As soon as she stepped out of the portal, Wanda found herself in a sort of oval hall that should have been a palace - the floor shiny and white, with a huge luxurious chandelier on the ceiling - from the size. She noticed immediately that at the back of the room were five marble thrones, and her body quivered when she noticed the infinity stones at the top of each chair. She couldn't feel the energy - and couldn't really tell if it was the lack of her magic or not - but assumed that they were tribute copies and that the real stones must have been with the occupants of each seat.

Speaking of people, immediately upon arrival, Ororo was greeted by a Handmaiden - Who was literally a fairy, the wings glowing and golden and the ears pointed - who bowed before guiding your body away.

Wanda instinctively moved toward you, but Ororo put a hand in her path.

"She will be taken to our healers." Clarifies the priestess, and seeing the hesitation in the witch's gaze, she nods to America. "The child can accompany her."

"Why can't I?" Wanda questions with a frown, watching America hurry so as not to lose sight of you in the long palace.

"You will be the first to be evaluated, Scarlet Witch."  Ororo explains and nods to the opposite of the path.

Wanda swallows dryly but follows the cue. And as she passes through the halls, and catches a glimpse of the landscape - miles and miles of black, burnt ground - through the long glass windows, it occurs to her that the witches did not lie to her, but to the people.

The castle was very beautiful, the marble shining where Wanda could see her own reflection, and she allowed herself to run her curious eyes over the statues along the way - which ranged from imponent images of Sorceresses wearing the same long capes as Ororo to Fauns and Mythological Creatures wearing coats of arms similar to those drawn on the walls.

Ororo led her to a large room, but unlike the rest of the place - and especially the village with all its medieval aesthetics - it still had chandeliers and the pastel tone of the hallway, but there were so many bronze and metal objects inside that looked nothing like anything Wanda had ever seen. What stood out the most was the tree inside, colorful petal trees with an aura around them, and several fireflies flying through the branches.

It was clearly a medical area, judging by the stretchers and healers walking around with flying books, some of them working on potions and analyzing vials. As soon as Ororo entered, however, the whole room stopped, and everyone bowed before going back to work.

A woman came out hurriedly from behind one of the branches, at her waist,  an apron soiled with what looked like the tree's mystical dust, and her black hair tied up in a loose bun. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise when she recognized her.

"Good morning Healer Cho." Greeted Ororo sweetly as the other smiled and handed the dirty apron to one of the fairy helpers before approaching to bow briefly to the Priestess.

"Good morning, high Priestess. How may I help you today?"

"I just got back from the Dwarven village, because of that breach we notified earlier." Ororo explains, receiving a small sigh of realization from the other woman. "This is Miss Wanda Maximoff. She needs to be assessed like the rest of our guests, but the other two are receiving emergency assistance."

"Oh, I see." Cho says and offers Wanda a sympathetic smile. "I'll just finish with the pruning, and I can..."

"Actually I was hoping that Mr.Laufeyson would assist us with this operation, Healer Cho." Ororo interrupts, and to the other's surprise, she lowers her tone and adds. "Given the nature of the magic we can sense in Miss Maximoff."

Cho seems to realize this only when she is told, and Wanda figures it is because of the rush of the day - because she has noticed some of the nearby healers taking their attention away from their tasks and casting corner-of-the-eye glances at her - but the healer lets out only a light sigh.

"Sorry, High Priest, but Loki hasn't arrived yet." She says as she tucks her bun more tightly into place. "You know how busy the Dark Witches get during the Solstice season, and with so many werewolf calls, Loki has hardly been staying at the Council."

Ororo sighs lightly but nods in understanding. "Well, I leave Miss Maximoff in your hands, then, Healer Cho. I need to record this arrival correctly, and I'll be back to see them later." She says, and to Wanda's surprise, offers her a very tender smile before leaving the room.

"Come this way with me Miss Maximoff, you can wait in the evaluation room while I finish pruning our dear Yggdrasil." Says the healer with a tired sigh gesturing for Wanda to follow her deeper into the room.

She is placed sitting on a soft leather stretcher, and Cho asks if she is comfortable before beckoning for the assistant fairies to bring some equipment.

In addition to an iron scale that they place on the small table next to the bed, Cho offers Wanda a small smile as she approaches to measure her heart rate. She murmurs to herself briefly, and Wanda is surprised that with a simple movement in the air, some sort of screen appears. 

Although it looks like a computer, it is clearly magic and related to this. Instead of information about her heartbeat or pressure, there are captions about magical species, cosmic nature, astral balance..."

Wanda takes her attention away from the screen when Cho holds out a syringe.

"You're not afraid of needles, are you Miss Maximoff?" Cho asks humorously, and Wanda grunts softly.

"I don't really like them, but you can go on."  She says, and Cho gives a little laugh that surprises her.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm always surprised at how many dark witches are afraid of needles." She mutters before starting to draw blood from the other, who shudders a little. She decides that she is going to pay attention to the story and not the feeling, and mutters in a questioning tone, which encourages Cho to keep talking. "It's just that everyone always thinks you are the most fearsome warriors in the world and do all sorts of blood rituals, but, and don't spread this to anyone, Mr. Laufeyson himself turns pale every time he has to see a dissection." She says with a chuckle that Wanda accompanies out of politeness. "Here you go, that was quick yes?" She says walking away after cleaning up and handing the vials to one of the helpers.

Cho went to one of the cabinets in the back, on one of the higher shelves, and stood reading the labels for a few minutes. Then she opened one of the last little doors - drawing a rune on the glass - and pulled out a bracelet of sorts.

"Here you are Miss Maximoff, put this on." She guided, handing the item to Wanda, who frowned in confusion.

"What is it?"

Cho smiled. "An absorption totem of course." She says half surprised that Wanda doesn't know. The redhead twirls the item between her fingers, noting the drawings on the stones that compose the bracelet. "Each rune has a function. We don't keep many items that do that kind of work, but you got lucky. Mr. Laufeyson has just brought in this new collection of Western relics for evaluation, and this one has the runes of Set. When placed in the right way, Miss Maximoff, black items do not release their nature magic, but rather absorb them." 

Wanda blinked in surprise at the lesson, looking at her wrist as she fitted the item to her skin.

"We don't allow the practice of dark magic on non-sworn witches around here, hence the procedure." Cho adds and then sighs. "I'll leave you with this while I finish pruning. You can wait here, I was almost done."

As the minutes pass, Wanda swings her legs around on the stretcher, feeling her skin prickle where the bracelet is. It is not painful, but it cannot be ignored.

Just as she is starting to get bored, Cho returns.

"Your results are ready, and look at that, the absorption worked very well!" Cho comments and Wanda is about to ask how she can be sure, but the healer points to the balance on the small table-Wanda had thought it didn't even work because it was standing on one side - but now, it was balanced.

"How...?"

"Or it's very simple, Miss Maximoff." Cho says as she approaches to take the bracelet from her, and hands the item to one of the helpers, who takes it back to the cabinets. "The scales measure the magical equilibrium in your spirit. That's why I aligned it with you. If you keep it that way, you won't have any problems with the council." Cho jokes, taking up the free chair and gesturing in the air again for the screens from before to appear and stand at face height as if she were going to study the results. She mutters to herself as she does so, reading numbers and runes that might even make some sense to Wanda, but she doesn't know how to categorize everything correctly.

"When will I get to see my friends?" She asks, and Cho doesn't take her gaze off the screen to answer.

"As soon as they are released from the Emergency Area, I imagine." Says the healer, and offers the other a sympathetic smile. "I imagine they should be in a really worrying state for the Evaluation to be postponed."

"She'll be fine." Wanda retorts and has the impression that it is more to herself that she is saying it than to the healer. "We got into a bad fight, and she has some bruises that won't heal. Besides not waking up. But she'll be fine, because she's too stubborn to die, and she needs to give me back my magic too."

"Oh, a magical thief? I haven't seen one in many years." Cho comments casually, looking between the screens. She lets out a chuckle next, before Wanda can argue that she doesn't think you're such a magical thief - the only thing that sounds familiar for that in the matter is Agatha, and she's not the same as you. 

One of the screens disappears from Cho's front and reappears on Wanda's lap. She frowns at the map of a body with several dots drawn on it.

"Your friend must be a very skilled witch, it is very rare to find witches, or even just scholars, who are familiar with Tenketsu." Declares the healer, and Wanda blinks in confusion.

"Sorry, I don't know what that means." She mutters, and Cho shakes her head slightly offering her an assuring smile.

"It means Pressure Points, Miss Maximoff." She says and stands up to approach Wanda, and gestures to the open map. "You see, you are a natural witch, and although you are not from this universe, your anatomy is quite similar to ours. Energy flows through your body so you can manipulate it and cast your spells. But there is an ancient study, about your body's Chakra map, the Keirakukei, and mystical art of combat, where you learn to block the Tenketsu or pressure points where your magic concentrates."

Wanda absorbs the information in silence for a moment, watching Cho switch the screen so that the map shows these said points. She realizes that this is where you touched her in the fight, and lets out a soft sigh.

"Can you fix it?" She asks and Cho laughs lightly, nodding.

"I don't need to." She says waving for the map to disappear. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, after all I'm just the healer and the council will fill you with questions, but your friend wasn't trying to hurt you, was she?"

Wanda frowns slightly, but her hesitation serves as confirmation for the healer, who smiles again as she charms the chair to move in close again. She sits down before speaking again.

"While the Tenketsu is not forbidden, it is not usually well looked upon among witch communities, and I have met enough travelers to realize that not only in this universe is this a truth." Cho counters. "Magic, Miss Maximoff, is a gift from the gods. It is not up to another being to take it from you. And well, the Tenketsu in its prime, is carried out permanently."

Wanda swallowed dryly, and looked at the new image Cho signaled to appear. The bright dots, are now dark.

"If you use magic the right way, and more importantly, hit the dots at the right time, you can burn them, and doom your opponent to magical incapacitation." Cho explains, tracing the lines on the map, and switching the image to Wanda's again. All were glowing faintly. "But your friend, Miss Maximoff, knew very well what she was doing. She applied only what was necessary to numb your magic. It blocked the main flows, but if you look at the trace of the heart, everything is still here. Recovering slowly."

Wanda cleared her throat. "How slowly?"

Cho hums thoughtfully. "Maybe just a few more hours. We can try stimulating..."

"Yes, do it." Wanda says without hesitation, and Cho gives a surprised giggle. 

"Okay, if you're in a hurry." She jokes, gesturing for the map to go out of sight before turning back to the table. "I need to send all this to the Council first. Why don't you head to the room they prepare? I'll come to you when I'm done."

Wanda didn't want to, but as she noticed the helpers approaching and the way the healer went back to work without giving her another glance, she realized it wasn't really a question.

Her desire was to lose the girls, find your room, and tell America to get them out of there as quickly as possible. This place was growing in her suspicion by the second.

But she was still without magic, and well, she wouldn't lie to say that the hot bath and the cleaning of her clothes were not appreciated. 

She was smelling of fresh and sweet salts and had just dismissed the offer of having a helper brush her hair, laughing to herself at the sarcastic thought that this universe treated witches like royalty, when she found her image in the mirror.

I don't look scary anymore. She thought with some insecurity about the way the religious people treated her, or how America had referred to her before. But she pushed those thoughts away in the next second.

She lowered her eyes to her hands in the sink, staring at the black stains and realizing only now how really smaller and almost transparent they looked. Wanda frowned as she understood the extent of what this could mean.

When she lifted her face to the mirror again, watery eyes stared back at her.

And not her green ones.

"Help me, Wanda." Your reflection, right next to her, whispered. She jumped in fright, but you weren't there when she tried to look again. 

Before she could investigate further, she heard a commotion of people running outside, and even before she opened the door to find guards hurrying toward the main hall, she knew immediately that it had something to do with you.

--//--

[ill-skillsgard]

Ugh this Mickey sex worker drabble is sooo good. You can't leave us like this 💦💦

Previous imagines here - [x]

Warning: 18+ BDSM themes, mentions of sex work, bondage, toy-play, teasing and overall mature themes. 

Blindfolded, Mickey counted twenty steps until the balmy night air cooled at his back. The soles of his worn ankle boots crunched gravel, then mounted stone steps, crossed pavement, stepped over a threshold of unknown size, and stopped on a plush runner. The new atmosphere keened with scents of teak and sweet pea, dividing the outside — with all its cricket choruses and damp breezes sighing for the coming heat-storm — from the inside of her home. He knew the area of town but hadn’t wasted a venture through the streets in years. These places were littered with miraculously large homes—the likes of which Mickey never dreamed of visiting. Nothing about this end of town was for him or his kind.

He cycled through her rules in his head as she led him by the elbow down a wide corridor. The clicking of her high heels threw off the walls, and for a moment, sounded as though half a dozen well-dressed women marched alongside him through a tunnel. They turned right, and she cautioned him up the stairs—fourteen steps, a landing, another right turn, then six more to the second floor.

The thought occurred to him several times that she very well could lead him to a violent death, and the wealthy end of town would be the last place anyone might think to look for his body. You never knew with the rich types. All that money and power had twisted ways of moulding people into elusive beasts; their predatory appetites wet for suffering. For all he knew, he could have been hand-selected as some billionaire’s newest flesh-pinata and was none the wiser.

Mickey cursed himself for watching too many horror movies.

“You remember everything I told you?” Her voice tickled his right ear.

With his vision cut, the din carried dizzying potency. Mickey lost his equilibrium and shot his hand out, nearly keeling over. He snickered at himself. How silly he must look wearing a leather blindfold, tripping on thin air, and having to adhere to his mistress like a toddling child.

“My memory isn’t so good, ma’am. I wouldn’t mind a refresher course, so I can better serve you.”

Sometimes he impressed himself with how quickly he snapped into submission. For such a well-paying gig, he figured she and her husband deserved his unadulterated efforts. It was only an acting job. The aroma of money and the promise of mind-blowing sex sweetened the deal. Mickey had no problem fully committing to pleasure the woman leading him deeper into the house.

“No back-talk. I want you to be the most well-behaved boy anyone could ask. Do not toe the line tonight. I need you obedient, respectful and very enthusiastic. Tonight, I am the ultimate authority.”

“Yes, my goddess.”

She smiled. At first, she had been unsure of Mickey’s candidacy, but the farther she led him, the more his attitude subdued. She expected smart comments, platitudes and that downtown grit to make her regret her choice, but Mickey had buttoned his mouth, save for answering her questions, and was off to a good start. Mickey’s engagement pleased her, as she had fantasized of this moment for many nights, and he played his part well.

“Soon, we will enter a room where you must strip down. I’ll then escort you to the playroom. There’s a bed you will lie down on, and then we’ll get started.”

“Will my mistress be the one stripping me tonight?” Mickey asked, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“I will be the one to dress and undress you when you’re in this house. And no more questions.”

“I’m sorry, goddess.”

“You’re still happy with the agreement? You remember your word and the number you gave me?” She asked.

“Margarita. Eight.”

“Do you wish to change anything before we begin?”

“No, my goddess,” Mickey’s voice barely breached a whisper.

“Good. Here we are. Watch your step.”

She led the tall man through a set of double doors, into a boudoir that boasted a French rococo vanity mirror and matching armoire, a changing screen, a dusty lilac chaise lounge in the corner and various full-length mirrors for appreciating one’s opulence. Mickey saw none of these things but suspected he was in the company of many possessions exclusive to the super-rich. Something about the proud silence of the room murmured of immaculate furniture, gold and satin.

They worked together to rid Mickey of his clothing. First, he kicked off his boots and socks, then waited for her to undo his belt buckle. He stepped out of his pants and let her work his shirt up over his head without skewing the blackout mask shielding his eyes. Even if he wanted to look around, circles of fine leather prevented this. Tilting his chin did nothing to reveal even a sliver of his surroundings, but he decided, back in her car as they pulled up to the estate, that he didn’t want to spoil the fun by peeking. All the mystery had his skin prickling, the fine hairs standing on the back of his neck. And they paid him for these thrills. Looking would only cheapen the experience, so he maintained a ninety-degree angle between his chin and throat.

A furious rush of nerves came over him while he stood naked, the blindfold his only cover, and waited for his mistress to change into her evening attire. She noticed his gooseflesh when she came to collect him and ran her fingertips up and down his right arm.

“It will be fun, trust me.”

“I trust you,” said Mickey.

He followed her by the hand from the boudoir into the next room. His soles sank into the plush fibres of a rug as the heady scent of oiled leather aroused his palate.

Guided by his goddess, Mickey climbed onto a vast bed draped with silky sheets and laid on his back, spreading his limbs to each corner. She fastened his wrists and ankles with tough leather cuffs — no beginner ropes or slippery sashes out of which he could worm. Constructed of a thick material like the leather eye mask, the bindings had one aim: to hold him in place, whether he liked it or not.

“He’s on his back, naked, hands and feet tied down, eyes covered,” said his mistress.

Unsure if she spoke to him, he maintained silence.

“Tall... Very tall. Brown hair, green eyes. Several small tattoos on his arms and fingers. One red rose tattooed on his groin. Uncircumcised. Large feet and hands. Long, long limbs. Full lips. Small pink nipples. Underarms are unshaven.”

Mickey listened to her description of his body, a lustful inflection in her voice whenever she exalted his stature. It became clear at that moment she had chosen him for a reason. His mistress had an affinity for height. It caused him to smirk, imagining what she might say once he became hard.

“Hello, pet. You may greet me,” her voice floated on sweetened air.

“Hello, goddess.”

“Tonight, we begin with a riding crop. Cherry wood handle. Black tip, of course. Italian leather.”

The cool material first met his right thigh, dragging down his leg to the tip of his big toe. Then the leather foot of her instrument graced his other leg. Mickey quivered.

“The pet shivers from having his thighs stroked. His cock bounces as his blood churns. He’s eager.”

Confused by her narration, Mickey tried to relax and let the tension from his muscles until he remembered what she had told him of her husband. Another presence was in the room. She was describing the scene for this third party.

Mickey held his breath as the leather tip of her riding crop coasted up and down his legs and arms. Only when it met his pubic bone did his body twinge in surprise. But the material lifted, and he was alone. Now he prickled and waited for the next stroke of her leather, his anticipation thickening with every second that passed.

It continued for what felt like hours to Mickey. Whenever she neared his cock, she jumped to another point of his body — his feet, the column of his throat, the deep ridge of his collarbone. Anywhere but his groin.

“Do you grow impatient, pet?” She asked.

“No, mistress.”

“Your hardness tells me otherwise. Hm?”

“My patience knows no limit, goddess.”

Mickey thought he heard a slight chuckle under her breath or a chafe of movement from somewhere else in the room. In the infinite blackness, it was impossible to know. He hoped the sound came from her lips and that his obedience pleased her.

“The pet has become fully erect from ulterior touch alone.”

He hoped that whoever watched from afar appreciated his size. Mickey had been praised for his endowment plenty of times before, but the approval of his mistress and her superior held more weight than the clients whose compliments came standard and frequent.

“Enormous cock on this one,” she stated. “Symmetrical... Supple tip. Teardrop-shaped slit. The left testicle hangs lower than the right, but they’re tight and shorn. The pet has trimmed pubic hair leading up to a trail below his navel.”

Mickey bit his lip. She pressed the leather tag against one testicle, and then the other, hefting them both with the crop. The veins in his shaft swelled.

“Does the pet enjoy my leather?”

“Yes, goddess.”

She batted the underside of his shaft gently with the flat tip, causing him to jostle and open his mouth.

“How about now?”

“Yes, goddess,” whispered Mickey.

“Pardon me?”

He cleared his throat and repeated himself. It pleased her, but it didn’t stop her from fluttering the loop against his frenulum until it came away with a clear web of liquid, temporarily connecting the bat to his manhood. She smacked him a few times around his groin, measuring her force not to cause anything worse than a warm sting. Mickey was grateful and sighed when she lifted the crop away.

“I’ve grown bored with the crop. The pet’s prick is leaking and swollen red. I’ll now ring him and use the stroker—”

Her voice cut off, the abrupt silence punctuating a change of plan. She abandoned Mickey on the bed. He listened to the footsteps and strained his ears to take in any voice from someone other than his mistress. The curiosity was inescapable. Mickey wanted to know who else was watching him have his cock tortured. Before he grew too inquisitive, she returned to the side of the bed and leaned in close.

“Next comes a cock ring. Metal. Titanium, to be exact. Around the shaft and balls.”

This was no amateur set up, Mickey decided then. Perhaps another night, in an area of town not well-known for its poshness, he’d have plenty to say. Even now, Mickey reeled comments in from bouncing off his tongue. If he wanted to get paid and invited back, he had to keep quiet. And he wanted her to ask him back, so he chewed his bottom lip while she affixed the hilt of his cock with a cold metal ring.

The circle was heavy, tight, and held all the blood inside him until his length betrayed his pulse. A gust of air over his groin then made him blush. Would she touch him? Or would she beat him with a fresh instrument? He recalled her saying something about a stroker, but the buzz of something else caught his attention—a vibrator.

A jarring bolt of electricity shot through his pelvis when she held the tip against his balls.

“Oh!” Mickey cried out.

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“No, mistress. No.”

She nudged the metal supporting his manhood with the vibrator, a rumbling echo engulfing him, tickling every nerve.

“Oh, ma’am. That...” He trailed off in fear of punishment for speaking out of turn.

“I’m teasing his cock with a vibrator. He can hardly keep still.”

It was true, Mickey tugged at his restraints, not for want of escape, but for the need to curl into himself, away from the excruciating tingle fizzling through his limbs. He regretted boasting about his stamina, fearing his new master might take it to heart and torment him for the entire night.

The woman controlling his pleasure was not merciless, but she was thorough. She put on a stunning show and brought him to climax using a well-lubricated silicone sleeve to jerk his shaft until he shot his first and most potent load of the night. The contractions wrang him of several impressive bouts of cum, more than he was used to producing. He blamed the hours of teasing.

Never had he experienced such a mixture of conflicting sensations. He had wanted his mistress’ cunt badly, and for her to allow him inside as he was used to doing, but the toys gave him new gratitude for unconventional methods of stimulation. And she had wielded them so professionally. He tasted her appreciation for her armaments in the air between them. It made her subtle groping that much more delicious.

As she had promised, she released Mickey from his bonds and escorted him from the room. They veered down a hallway, the air so fresh compared to the playroom it chilled his bare skin. His feet slapped against polished marble while her heels clicked next to him. A door opened, and she ushered him through, closing it and locking the handle behind them. There was carpet under his feet again, and a bright, feminine aroma about his head.

Finally, she took off the blindfold. The light scorched Mickey’s pinhole pupils, and he rubbed his eyes until they adjusted to sight. There was no time to take in his surroundings before she grabbed his cock and kissed him. Mickey kissed her back only until her grip reminded him of the shuddering orgasm she’d just stolen. He winced, and she stepped back.

“I thought you said you could go again,” she said.

“Yeah, I can. I can. It’s just... That was intense. Can’t I take five?”

She shook her head, and all the excitement snuffed from her eyes in a blink. “There isn’t enough time. I told you twenty minutes is all I have, and we’ve already wasted a quarter of that already.”

“Hang on, now. Why don’t I eat you out? Or I can finger you, or both. Whatever you like. Work you up a bit while my nuts get a refill.”

“Just kiss me. Shut your mouth and kiss me now, Mickey.”

[imagine-loki]

Atlas: Space, Saturn

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 8/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. 

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 8: Saturn

Summary: Loki chooses a terrible time to develop a conscience, thinking he’ll have time to sort himself out and win her back. He doesn’t. (Post Taking Turns.)

Warnings include: Language, character death, and just… so much angst. 

=

The mild autumnal breeze did little to soothe Loki’s fevered thoughts. He had put this moment off for so long that he nearly convinced himself that it was unnecessary, or that he could be selfish just a little longer. With every battle they saw together, with every bruise and bloody lip that they shared, mostly at the other’s expense, he knew he couldn’t hold off any longer. Loki sensed trouble brewing in the Universe, trouble that was coming for him. And he thought–no, he knew–that she would put herself in the middle for him without a moment’s hesitation.

He needed to stop this cursed experiment in feelings.

“I have to tell you something.” Loki’s voice was low and hesitant. Becca straightened up, fidgeting and shifting her weight from leg to leg as she watched him almost statuesque against the oak tree.

“I do, too,” she whispered, ducking her head down to hide her burning cheeks. He nodded her ahead and she took a deep breath, her warm brown eyes glancing up at him through long lashes. She looked so sweet and innocent and his heart panged. “I love you, Loki.”

He should’ve definitely gone first.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Becca.” His words strained to even leave his mouth. All of this felt wrong and raw and he didn’t want to live with the image of her now disappointed face lingering in his mind for as long as she lived. “I’m going with Thor, off to explore. Mother’s… mother is dead and I have a responsibility to help him–”

Her brow furrowed into a deep frown. “A responsibility? You’re kidding me. Thor has actively avoided speaking to you for weeks over this mess with Jane! The only thing you owe Thor is a well-aimed kick for the way he treats you, sometimes.”

“You don’t understand–”

“You’re damn right, I don’t!”

There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. He was expecting her to take it hard, but he could never have imagined it would make her this visibly upset. It almost made him want to reconsider his plans. Almost.

“I tell you that I love you, after months of us tiptoeing around each other and basically living together and you tell me–”

Loki’s face hardened. “I don’t expect a mortal to comprehend these issues.” He knew it was a low blow, but it was necessary. “Thor and I will be around each other for centuries more. It’s easy to forgive a slight with that kind of time.”

“Is it possible for you not to sabotage yourself for once in your fucking life?” Her teeth were clenched, but that did not detract from the jab her words delivered. She was so good at reading him, and from the way he tensed and his breath hitched, she knew it, too.

“I don’t love you.” His words came out slow and even, despite the bitter taste they left behind.

Stark had once told him that just letting her go would not keep her safe. He said to embrace the pain and make sure he would never feel that same terror he did when she was shot, again. Stark hadn’t considered the vast reputation a thousand years of being God of Mischief would build, or the enemies it brought with it. Even then, Loki was worried about his brother’s enemies rather than his own, at the moment. She didn’t need to know about the dark elves, or chaos in the realms–it would only make her volunteer for service.

“I don’t love you,” he repeated, barely a breath, whether to convince her or himself, he was unsure.

“Sure.” Becca laughed mirthlessly, nodding her head. “Pretend whatever you want. I’m not going to beg. Fuck off, Loki. See you when I see you.” Her shoulder brushed his as she walked back towards her apartment, arms wrapped around herself.

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets to keep from reaching out for her. “You won’t.”

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How might carries on endlessly even after death With shortness of breath you explained the infinite How rare and beautiful it is to even exist

Becca stood at the rooftop of the Avengers complex, staring at the stars above. In upstate New York, it was easier to see the stars. A corner of her lips tugged upwards as she stared at the burning balls of gas, millions of miles away, recalling each one’s name and story. Loki always had a way of explaining the stars and making their history become permanently engrained in her mind. It was one of the few memories she had with him that didn’t sting like all hell; one of the few moments when she didn’t mind thinking about him.

She had seen him since that day in the park, flashes of him in the complex, but never very long and never alone. Becca had to give it to him–he was stubbornly true to his word. Becca couldn’t conjure a single image of him that wasn’t a blur from the last few years. Thor, sweet as he was, tried not to bring him up, except once to say he had died but that had turned out to be a ruse. She still, stupidly–or sentimentally, whichever was most accurate–, provided both brothers with gear.

I couldn’t help but ask For you to say it all again I tried to write it down But I could never find a pen I’d give everything to hear You say it one more time That the universe was made Just to be seen by my eyes

“Lady Becca.” She sighed, letting her shoulders slump forward. To this day, she had not really forgiven Thor for his part in his brother’s hare-brained plot. He can convince Loki of so damn much, but he could not take five minutes to tell him to reassess what he had done; what he had said. Loki would–and had–risked everything for Thor and his love, but apparently the dedication was one-sided. “Becca.”

“What is it, Thor? Oh–what happened to your eye?” She had turned around, pulling the hoodie, that may or may not have belonged to Loki, tighter around her form. Thor looked worse for wear and there was some emotion in his face that she couldn’t quite place.

“I must speak with you. It’s about Loki.”

Becca scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What is it now? Did he break his AI? Another heat stroke? What?”

“He’s dead.” The words echoed in her head far longer than they should have.

She tried in vain to scramble for her control. “How many times does that make? Two? Three? Loki doesn’t just die, Thor.”

Thor was silent for a very long moment. She expected him to nod and chuckle, tell her she was right and that they should all wait for the frost giant to pop back up. Instead she got a lip quiver and tears streaming down his one good eye. “He loved you so much. He was going to come back for you. I am truly sorry.”

A stone the size of a boulder dropped in her stomach, at once. Her chest was constricting in sheer horror. “No. Thor, you’re wrong. He can't… You’re lying!”

“I’m so sorry.” The floor shook as Thor dropped Stormbreaker and rushed to tighten his arms around Becca.

With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

There were so many questions left inside of her head. As much as she wanted to ask Thor the who, what, when, where, and why, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when he was sobbing so hard and so loudly that she could almost hear his heart cracking beneath his armor. Thor had never been the best brother to Loki, and she knew that, but there was a genuine affection that he had for his little brother that was twisting at his insides. Whatever promises he had made to support Loki or to make amends for his actions were now gone and those regrets hurt more than his death.

Becca reached the point that she had cried so hard and so desperately that she had to go to the MedBay to pick up a rescue inhaler. She had not needed one in over two decades, but this was the night it was going to get a hell of a lot of use. She sat on the floor of what used to be Loki’s room, staring at the stars out of his window, retelling herself the stories of each of the constellations. The tales of how each orb had been hung in the sky; of the warriors of old that went to Valhalla and populated the night sky; the endless patch of dark that was the Universe and how infinitesimal the probability of their existence was in the grand scheme of things. She tried not to think of his soothing voice, calculating odds of how likely it was that a girl from Midgard would meet a god from Asgard and how they’d won the lottery. How he had won the lottery every second he had her.

Most of all, she tried not to hate the fact that he had left her and turned her back into a statistic, never to feel irrationally lucky ever again. The Universe embraced this new reality.