#eternal lost boy tag

[jessmalia]

ignore every other playlist i’ve ever made this is the only important one

[jessmalia]

@clarasamelia

[wundrousarts]

Going to do a Nevermoor series reread in June + July + August ? if anyone else also wants to do a reread around that time, could be fun to have more of the fandom prepping for Silverborn

Did initially make a roadmap plan to split the books up into weeks on top of already being months, so that people could focus on specific parts and discuss each week….. but between the fact that I messed it up the first time, Silverborn kept getting delayed as I planned it, and I’m actually really bad at keeping to stuff like that (looking at you, Silverborn Countdown Challenge…) I’m deciding to just go for it at whatever pace happens.

[dweeborea]

Howdy, meet Emera's long long LONG lost son

Being taken from your mother and assimilated into a hivemind (The Voice of We Many) for >13,000 years does things to you

Also don't glare at Mizuki, boy, he's the reason you're an individual again

[alinedreams]

Dastardly Dick would probably have been a Tumblr Sexyman if Tumblr existed back in the 60's

[ahqkas]

♯ JEALOU$Y ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! an unexpected situation catches you off guard in the heart of florence and your boyfriend reveals a side of him you’ve never seen before (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, jealous + italian theo, translation of foreign language + lmk !

WORD COUNT! 1.3k

NOTES! he’s so fine when he’s jealous❕

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT WAS FAR FROM HAVING A SHORT TEMPER (UNLIKE HIS BEST FRIEND) BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN HE WAS NECESSARILY CARELESS. Sometimes, jealousy wrapped around his heart like the snake representing his house, squeezing and picking at the muscle, giving it wounds for blood to shed from.

And every time he tried to push those feelings aside, they came back even stronger than before in a crashing wave full of raw emotion. He felt like a puppet on a string that was pulled tight by the cruel hands of jealousy. His actions were no longer his own.

The summer sun bathed the picturesque streets of Florence in a warm, golden glow, casting a honeyed hue over the ancient city. Cobblestone pathways, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, stretched along the bustling streets. Each turn revealed a new delight: charming cafés with wrought-iron tables spilling onto the sidewalks, historic landmarks standing as silent reminders of the past, and vibrant marketplaces bursting with life and color. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the earthy aroma of aged stone and the tantalizing whiff of fresh espresso. The fragrance was an intoxicating blend, making every breath feel like a taste of paradise. The sounds of Florence added to the sensory feast: the melodic chatter of locals and tourists, the clinking of glasses and cutlery from the outdoor restaurants, and the distant strains of street musicians playing heavenly tunes on their violins and accordions.

Florence, in the embrace of summer, was absolutely beautiful. It was a place where history and romance intertwined, where every corner held a new discovery, and every moment was a celebration of the beauty of life. The city's magic lay not just in its landmarks, but in the way it made you feel — alive, enchanted, and eternally in love with the world around you.

You walked hand in hand with Theodore, your fingers intertwined in one as you explored the enchanting city. This vacation had been his idea, a chance for the two of you to escape the pressures of Hogwarts and immerse yourselves in the beauty and romance of Italy. Theo's Italian heritage made the trip even more special; he was eager to show you the places that held a special place in his heart.

As you wandered through a bustling street, you paused to admire a street artist's breathtaking paintings. The vibrant colors and detailed brushstrokes captured the scenery of Florence in ways that made the city's beauty stand out even more, and you found yourself lost in the artwork. Theo had stepped away momentarily to get you both something to eat from a nearby stand, leaving you alone but content. The hum of the city buzzed around you, voices of people blending with the occasional strum of a guitar.

While you were engrossed in the art, a group of local boys approached, their laughter and chatter filling the air. They were handsome and confident, their flirtatious smiles and easy charm unmistakable. One of them, with dark, curly hair and a mischievous grin, stepped forward, clearly intent on catching your attention. His eyes sparkled with interest as he gestured towards you.

"Sei molto bella." ("You are very beautiful.")

You blinked, a bit taken aback. Although you had picked up a few phrases during your time with Theo, your grasp of the language was far from fluent. You understood enough to know that he was complimenting you, but the exact words of meaning escaped you.

Before you could respond, another boy joined in, his tone equally playful. "Vuoi venire a fare una passeggiata con noi?" ("Do you want to go for a walk with us?")

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, both from the unexpected attention and your inability to respond. Your eyes darted around, hoping to spot your boyfriend. You were feeling increasingly uncomfortable, unsure how to extricate yourself from the situation.

Just as you were about to attempt a polite but awkward decline, you heard Theo's voice, sharp and commanding. "Ehi, lasciatela in pace!" ("Hey, leave her alone!")

The transformation in him was startling. Theo, usually so calm and composed, had a fierce intensity in his eyes. He stepped between you and the group of boys, his posture protective, his expression a stormy mix of anger and determination. The easygoing demeanor he often sported was replaced by a fierce warning.

His broad shoulders squared, blocking the boys' view of you completely, creating a barrier that was both physical and emotional. The bright warmth of the sun seemed to dim in comparison to the fire that burned in Theo's gaze. It was as if a switch had been flipped, transforming him from the gentle, sweet boyfriend you knew into a guardian ready to defend the owner of his heart and soul.

The boys, who had moments ago been brimming with confidence, raised their hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously. "Calmati, amico. Non volevamo causare problemi," one of them said, trying to diffuse the situation. ("Calm down, friend. We didn't want to cause trouble.")

But Theo wasn't having any of it. Each word was a blade of a dagger, cutting through the casual flirtation of the boys, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. "Non vedete che non è interessata? Andatevene prima che mi arrabbi davvero." ("Can't you see she's not interested? Walk away before I really get angry."). His voice was low and menacing as he continued in rapid Italian, his words too fast for you to catch but clearly effective in making the boys rethink their approach. They muttered a few apologies before scurrying away, casting wary glances over their shoulders.

Theo turned to you, his eyes softening instantly as he took in your bewildered expression. The fierce protector you had just witnessed melted away, replaced by your sweet boy you knew so well. "Are you okay?" His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting touch.

You nodded, still a bit shaken. "I'm fine. They were just . . . I didn't understand what they were saying," you admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Theo's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "They were trying to flirt with you," he explained. "But don't worry, they're gone now."

You managed a small laugh, the tension easing out of your body. "I figured that much," you said, your voice lightening. "Thank you, Theo."

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart were instantly calming. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. "I just couldn't stand the thought of them bothering you."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The fierce protectiveness in his gaze had melted into something softer, more tender. "You were amazing," you said honestly. "I've never seen you like that before."

Theo's smile widened, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, I can't help it," he said, his tone teasing but sincere. "You bring out the best in me."

As you continued your walk through the beautiful streets of Florence, Theo kept you close, his arm securely around you. The incident with the local boys faded into the background, replaced by the joy of being together in such a magical place. The city's charm and Theo's unwavering affection made you feel like you were living in a dream.

Later that evening, as you sat together at a cozy café, sipping on rich Italian espresso, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Theo. His protective nature, his deep love for you, and his ability to make you feel safe and cherished were all things you treasured deeply. As the sun set over the Florence skyline, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, you leaned into Theo, feeling utterly content.

In that moment, with the world bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you knew that no matter where you were, as long as you were with Theo, you were home.

[maplesugarcookie]

Too bad. Agree to disagree, still gonna worship these deities. I provide offers of fruit, shiny objects, and hugs and kisses forever.

Also, look at that art, yippie! It's the good kind!

EVERYONE'S GETTING A RELIGION, SO I PROPOSE THE BELIEF OF MYSTIC MONKEY SUPREMACY! Everyone BOW DOWN to your Kings. (I am on my hands and knees now. Face on the cold wooden floor.) That includes Wukong, Macaque, MK and... no, Mink already has his own religion. Also he's a literal curse cosplaying a mystic monkey so he does not count. BOW TO THE MONKEY KINGS!!!

They disagree-

[a-shade-of-blue]

Hi everyone. I've been asked by Hamdy (@hamdigaza) to share his story with you. Hamdy is only 19 years old but he has already witnessed the deaths of so many family members, including 3 young children: Omar, Nada and Zeina. None of them had even reached 5 years old when they were killed by Israeli missiles.

Omar was an intelligent boy who dreamt of becoming an engineering. He was killed, along with his parents, in the same raid by the occupation forces. He did not even get to graduate from kindergarten.

Omar's little sister Nada was also martyred. She was only 4 years old. She looked up to her brother Omar and wanted to attend kindergarten with him so much. She was a kind soul and wished to become a doctor when she grow up so that she can "treat the sick and the blind". She never got to grow up. She was only 4 years old when she was killed.

(This is a photo of Nada and Omar. They were both so young when they were brutally murdered)

Baby Zeina was born in the first week of this war. When her mother was pregnant with her, they were displaced to an area in the South where Israel designated as a safe zone, and it was in this 'safe zone' that Zeina was born. She was the youngest child in Hamdy's family, and a bright spot in their lives in this otherwise horrific genocide. Zeina was only 5 months old when the occupation forces killed her, along with her father.

(This is a photo of baby Zeina. There aren't a lot of photos of Zeina because she was only 5 months old when she was killed)

Hamdy lost most of his family members in the same bombing that killed Zeina and her father. Hamdy has lost his mother, his aunt, his siblings, his cousins, his nephews, and his nieces in this year alone. Of all his family members, only he, his father and his sister managed to survive.

This campaign is shared by @/gaza-evacuation-funds, #263 on the vetted fundraiser list created by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi. Please, please help Hamdy. He has already lost so so much and he is only 19 years old. The things he told me... this is not a post I find easy to write and I can't imagine how difficult it must be for him to go through all that.

Only €3,914 raised of €50,000 goal! Last donation was 17 hours ago!!

Tagging for reach because he has only received 1 donation in 24 hours and my heart breaks for him, please dm me if you want off the mailing list! We thank you in advance.

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @ahaura@ana-bananya@northgazaupdates@c-u-c-koo-4-40k@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @roadimusprime@aces-and-angels@just-browsing1222@neptunerings@mushroomjar@northgazaupdates2@kyra45-helping-others@decolonize-solidarity @heritageposts@timetravellingkitty @briarhips @akajustmerry @wellwaterhysteria @rhubarbspring@nevert-the-guy@ethanscrocs @gumy-shark @khizuo @brutaliakhoa @decolonize-the-everything @postanagramgenerator

@eternal-fractal @pathogenic @nonbinary-support @mar64ds @bixels @aria-ashryver

@schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @feluka

@fiqrr @irhabiya @sharingresourcesforpalestine @batmanego

@lonniemachin @aristotels @watermotif @stuckinapril @chanafehs@malcriada @appsa @serialunaliver @buttercuparry

@palipunk @gothhabiba @punkitt-is-here

 @prisonhannibal @genderdog @geekydragon @amvs @p0pp3t @t-800 @tethys-saturnalia @anghju @sniffingcinnamon @sunnylittledragon @dyspunktional-leviathan @cakemadeofbacon @mx-piggy @autisticandroids @avi-wings @fabuladorah

@yourlocalamoeba @acepumpkinpatrick @kala-mies @creativebrainrot

@ankle-beez @lonniemachin @dykesbat @charlott2n @watermotif

@mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz @vakarians-babe @socalgal @chilewithcarnage@ghelgheli@sivavakkiyar@anneemay@plomegranate@fluoresensitive@determinate-negation

[n1ght0f-nyx]

MHA BOYS- you're pregnant

how the mha boys react when you tell them your pregnant. tags/warnings- pregnancy (obvi) aged up (post-canon) no negative reactions, this is so corny i hate it characters- izuku midoryria, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kamanari, ejirio Kirishima, fumikage tokoyami, koji koda, mezo shoji, tamaki amajiki, hanta sero, tenya iida 

Izuku Midoriya

When you told Izuku the news, he froze mid-step, his eyes widening as your words sank in. “Really?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. You nodded, watching as his mind raced, almost seeing the gears turning behind his green eyes.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, without warning, he pulled out his notebook, scribbling down notes and making lists at lightning speed. Baby-proofing the apartment, researching the best cribs, figuring out how to balance work and fatherhood—his brain was in overdrive.

But amid the frantic planning, you caught him stealing glances at your stomach, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. He wasn’t saying much, but his actions spoke louder than words. When he finally put down the notebook, he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.

“We’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo didn’t say anything at first when you broke the news. His usual fiery demeanor was replaced by a heavy silence as he processed your words. His red eyes were locked on you, intense and unreadable, as if trying to figure out what to do next.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice gruff but steady. “You serious?”

When you nodded, he didn’t explode or rant like you might have expected. Instead, he reached out and pulled you into a rough, but secure embrace. His arms tightened around you protectively, and you felt the shift in him. His protective instincts, already strong, seemed to go into overdrive. He wasn’t one for soft words, but his actions said it all.

Over the next few days, you noticed him being extra cautious—keeping a close eye on what you were eating, making sure you were comfortable, and even being more mindful of his temper around you. He wasn’t suddenly soft, but there was a newfound depth to his care.

One evening, you caught him looking at baby clothes online. “Just making sure the kid isn’t weak,” he grumbled when you asked. But there was a glint of something in his eyes—an excitement he’d never admit out loud.

Shoto Todoroki

When you told Shoto the news, he took it with his usual calm, his expression barely changing. But there was a brief flicker in his mismatched eyes—something deep, something reflective. He took your hand, holding it gently as he nodded.

“We’ll figure this out together,” he said simply, his voice steady.

You could see the wheels turning in his mind, though he didn’t voice all his thoughts. Instead, he became even more attentive than usual. He took on more around the house without a word, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. It wasn’t overt, but you could feel the shift in him—a quiet resolve to be better than the father he’d had.

Sometimes, you’d catch him lost in thought, his gaze distant as he seemed to contemplate the future. But there was also a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a subtle happiness that radiated from him whenever he was with you.

Denki Kaminari

Denki’s reaction was instant—a wide grin splitting his face as he practically bounced in place. "No way! We’re gonna be parents?!" His excitement was infectious, and I couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled me into a playful hug, his energy buzzing. "This is gonna be so awesome! I’m gonna teach them all about music, and video games, and... oh man, this is so cool!" But then, his expression softened, and he looked at me with surprising seriousness. "I’ll be here for you, babe. Every step of the way."

Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima’s reaction was nothing short of pure joy. "We’re gonna be a family? That’s so manly!" he exclaimed, pulling me into the biggest hug. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself smiling as he rambled on about all the things he wanted to do for our baby. "I’m gonna be the best dad ever, I swear!" he declared, his eyes shining with determination. Then, more quietly, he added, "And I’ll be here for you, no matter what. We’ve got this."

Fumikage Tokoyami

Tokoyami’s reaction was more subdued, but the depth of his emotions was clear in his eyes. "A child," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. He took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is a profound responsibility, one I’ll carry with pride." His gaze met mine, filled with a determination that was uniquely his. "I’ll protect you both from any darkness that comes our way," he promised, his tone resolute. "You have my word."

Koji Koda

Koji’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed almost overwhelmed by the news. But then, a warm, gentle smile spread across his face. "We’re... we’re going to have a baby," he murmured, as if trying to wrap his mind around the idea. He reached out, his large hands enveloping mine in a comforting hold. "I’ll take care of you both," he promised softly. And then, almost as an afterthought, he added with a shy smile, "The animals will be so excited to meet the baby."

Mezo Shoji

Shoji’s reaction was calm, his many arms moving to gently envelop me in a protective embrace. "This is big news," he said quietly, his voice filled with a steady resolve. "But we’ll handle it together." He looked down at me, his expression softening. "I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have everything you need." His touch was reassuring, a reminder of the quiet strength he always carried. "You and our child are my top priority now."

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki’s reaction was a mix of emotions, his face shifting from surprise to anxiety, and finally to a tentative smile. "Y-You’re... pregnant?" he stammered, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. I nodded, and he reached out hesitantly, his hand trembling as it rested on my stomach. "I’ll... I’ll do my best," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Then, more firmly, he added, "I’ll protect you both. I promise."

Hanta Sero

Sero’s reaction was instant and full of excitement. "No way! We’re gonna have a baby?!" he exclaimed, scooping me up in a playful hug. His smile was infectious, and I found myself laughing along with him. But then, he set me down gently, his expression turning serious. "I’m gonna be here for you, okay? Whatever you need, I’ve got your back." He squeezed my hand, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to a deeper sense of responsibility. "We’re in this together."

Tenya Iida

Iida’s reaction was immediate and methodical, his mind already racing with plans and preparations. "We need to start organizing everything," he said, his tone serious but filled with a quiet excitement. "Doctor’s appointments, a nursery... we’ll need to make sure everything is ready." But then, he paused, his expression softening as he took my hand. "But most importantly, I want to make sure you’re okay," he added gently. "I’m here for you, every step of the way."

[venusbyline]

Fates ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 22, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: spit kink

— summary: Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

— word count: 2.3k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 22nd day, Targcest (aunt/nephew), female!reader, queen consort!reader, king!Jacaerys, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, spit kink, rape/non-con, degradation, rough sex, gore, referenced mutilated penis, nipple play, nipple torture, blood and violence, blood kink, vaginal sex, anal sex, hate sex, implied PTSD, biting, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, VERY DARK CONTENT, hurt no comfort, mild angst, light unconscious sex, ambiguous/open ending (but it would probably be a sad or bittersweet ending), curse words, death threats, sexism, crying, dacryphilia, mild dumbification, referenced permanent injury, mild aftercare (BUT NO REALLY), past genital torture, Jacaerys also lost an eye, fake character death, emotional manipulation, sadism, breast worship, forced orgasm, marriage of convenience, forced marriage, sexual and psychological torture, survivors guilt, male infertility, Jacaerys Velaryon lives, Jaehaera Targaryen lives, Baela Targaryen dies, forced child marriage mentioned, minor Jaehaera Targaryen/Aegon III Targaryen, past Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, past Aemond Targaryen/reader, mild Stockholm syndrome, age gap (older woman/younger man), Jace's 17 during 131 AC and 21 during 135 AC, reader's 21 during 131 AC and 25 during 135 AC, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, canon divergence (The Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

"The King ordered your presence into his private chambers, Your Grace. Immediately."

The maid's voice brought you out of your almost peaceful sleep. Before the war, you loved having the calm to sleep and get plenty of rest whenever you could, away from the trivial duties of Royalty. Before, you loved going to sleep and waking up with your nephews laughing and playing on your bed, trying to wake you up by the most messy and childish possible ways. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor were like your children too, you helped your older sister to take care of them, often more present in their lives than Aegon himself, who was always just focused on fucking whores or harassing the castle's servants.

During the Dance of the Dragons, you almost went crazy, also like Helaena. As if the cruel murder of your nephew Jaehaerys was not enough, you were also forced to marry your twin brother, Aemond, who ended up dying during The Battle Above the Gods Eye along with your uncle Daemon, turning you into widow at just twenty years old in that time. Your half-sister Rhaenyra's death was inevitable, as were the deaths of nearly every member of the Targaryen family. However, Rhaenyra's bloodline continued on the throne after the mysterious poisoning of your older brother Aegon II during 131 AC. When the Blacks took back the Iron Throne, your greatest concern would be not only the fact that your other nephew, Aegon III, son of your half-sister and your uncle Daemon, could ascend as the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms at such a young age, but also the fact of what would happen to you and your little niece Jaehaera, who had the tragic fate of marrying the boy even though they were both children, as a stupid attempt at a peace treaty between the Blacks and Greens.

To your surprise, it was not Aegon III who ascended the Iron Throne, much less little Jaehaera or even you. But Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen's firstborn and her legitimized heir, the one that everyone believed for almost two years that he was dead. On that horrifying afternoon, you were sure that the new king would order your death and the death of your niece. Which never happened. You did not know how Jacaerys had survived after the Battle of the Gullet, but despite the possible cruel fate that awaited you, you were grateful that His Grace was a man of his word and swore to keep Jaehaera alive and safe in King's Landing, not breaking up the marriage between her and his little brother, Aegon III, but also giving his word that the two children only would be able to consummate their marriage years later and did not need to act as a couple while they were still so young. After all, Jacaerys might want revenge on your family at all costs, but that did not mean he was in favor of murder or allowing the rape of a little girl, in a certain way.

Even during 135 AC, four years after the coronation of the current ruler, Jaehaera remained alive and safe, protected by her brother-in-law and cousin. Your nephew and husband. The new King. And for that, your fate was forever sealed as the second wife of King Jacaerys Velaryon, the first of his name.

"Lady Wife!" Jacaerys shouted with exaggerated excitement as he lay on the bed, completely naked but covered by the silk sheets. "I see the maids did not disappoint me again this time."

You took a deep breath, remembering the week before when he yelled at the servants for taking so long to bring you to your shared chambers. It had been unnecessary and agonizing to watch how people cowered in the face of his threats. The once kind and sweet Prince Jacaerys had become such a rude and merciless King since the death of his family. You could not blame him, even if you preferred to be able to.

"They were quick to bathe me and get me ready to see you." Your tone was monotonous, without emotion or affection. It was always like this. A slow death sentence you signed for the sake of your niece Jaehaera. You were used to this exhausting routine. Lying with Jacaerys when he was drunk, angry with the duties of his reign and the weight of the crown, as well as the grief that tormented his mind every night, indulging in wine or pleasure houses to try to avoid insanity which was approaching him little by little.

Both of you never knew each other very well before the marriage of convenience. You had interacted with Jace just a few times before the Dance of the Dragons, the last time being at that disastrous Viserys's supper, when Jace tried to be polite and ask Helena and then you for a dance, but his kindness only ended up making Aegon and Aemond jealous about Hel and you, causing more chaos between your families.

You might not know much about Jacaerys. However, it was obvious that the war had changed his personality. Now, he was colder, far from the soft boy who once made you chuckle dancing with him in an almost clumsy way. Now, Jace just saw you as a prize won due to the war, even if you were his second wife. He had lost everyone, even Baela.

Not that he really loved her, but there was affection and protection there. Political marriages that turned into true affectionate feelings. If only Baela had not died during the labor of their stillborn son... Perhaps he would have truly loved her as time passed. Perhaps he would have heirs now and would not need to sleep with you. Or almost that.

"You are so fucking stand-off right now, My Queen." The King muttered mockingly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he took another sip from the wine cup, motioning for you to approach the bed. With a sigh, you walk in silence, taking off your white nightgown you wore and sitting on his lap carefully, looking at him. Jace had intense marks spread across his body and face, scars that you wanted to caress if only he did not despise you as hell.

This adult version of him reminded you of your brother and ex-husband Aemond. The unexpected parallel between the uncle and the nephew was interesting. Both men missing one of their eyes. Aemond One-Eye, Jacaerys One-Eye. But there was no sapphire inside your current husband's eye socket. After reclaiming what was rightfully his, Jace ordered a black obsidian to be molded to fit there. A sadder version of your brother and ex-husband.

You missed Aemond, even if he was not a good husband and refused to breed you until the end of the war. Jacaerys missed Baela, even if he did not have any romantic feelings for her.

"I wish I could breed you with my heirs." Jace murmured, brushing away the silver hair that was in front of your face, taking in your delicate features for a moment. "I wonder if they would have silky light hairs like yours, or if they would be cursed with my dark hair."

His words made you curl into his lap, biting the lip to ward off a pained whining when he grabbed a handful of your silver strands, as if he wanted to rip them out completely and make you swallow every single one of them later. "I wish I still had my cock, then I would fuck you until your cunt swelled and was sore. I would hear you screaming and crying every night, begging me to stop hurting you while your tight little cunt would be constantly bleeding and milking me. And guess what? I would never stop. I WOULD NEVER STOP! I would be turned on seeing my seed leaking from all your holes and you screaming for my mercy just like the disgusting brothel whores."

The sickly macabre sentences caught you off guard and he pushed you under the bed, climbing on top of you, now without the sheets covering the absence of his cock, just the bad stitches and the almost huge nauseating scar where the Greens had ripped off his big and delightful penis. The length that Jacaerys always boasted about as a teenager. He would probably be the next Realm's Delight, just like his mother had been. But now all he had to content himself with was fucking you with his large fingers or his tongue, kissing you aggressively, always biting your lips or your breasts until they bleed, covered with light scars, just like he did with the whores from the brothels. "You should always be my own brood mare. I should force myself on you and make you carry my children every year until you learned to enjoy it. To enjoy me. TO LOVE ME!"

In that same second, as if he could read your mind, Jacaerys spat in the middle of your breasts and pinched your nipples with both hands between index fingers and thumbs, making you scream as he twisted them hard. "I should rip off your own nipples and make yourself eat them for dinner. I should fuck your nasty cunt with the blade of my sword until your womb tears, being disemboweled from the inside. I should kill you like your damn family killed mine." He shouted angrily, hitting your face once before squeezing your chin, forcing you to part your lips so he could spit the wine-tasting saliva onto your tongue. "SWALLOW IT! THIS IS AN ORDER FROM YOUR TRUE KING!"

He yelled, forcing you to obey after the next three slaps he gave you, without even letting you breathe. You swallowed his spit, your tears flowing in panic and your heart racing from it all. Jace's newly acquired cruelty was no longer a surprise to you, but sometimes your attempt at apathy faded and you let your sad emotions take control. You continued crying as the King spat in your face two more times, not even trying to clean up his disgusting mess on your cheeks and just allowing his hands to hurt your aching cunt, his slender fingers fucking you without any care, probably drawing blood while you bit your lip and closed your eyes, trying hard not to pay attention to anything. Trying hard not feeling anything or thinking about anything. Trying hard not to admire the scars on his handsome face or the dark jewel inside his empty eye.

You needed to keep Jaehaera safe. After the death of your sister Helaena, Jaehaera was no longer just your niece, she was also your daughter now. She was the only good thing in whole your life and you needed to protect her, even if it meant sacrificing your body and mind. You wondered if this was how your Lady Mother Alicent felt everytime your stupid father Viserys fucked her since she was just a teenager girl. In those years ago, did Alicent feel violated? Raped? Disgusted with her husband, with the world and mainly with herself? Did she also feel guilty and think she deserved those so cruel acts? But... did Alicent also feel empathy even about the man who hurt her?

Alicent Hightower was a broodmare for Viserys Targaryen. However, Jacaerys Velaryon could not procreate and get you pregnant with his seed. So you did not know what that made you. Just an object to be used and abused by him? Beaten until one day he finally had enough and murdered you? Until the little Aegon III getting older and inherits the Iron Throne due to his older brother's lack of heirs?

Would this be Jaehaera's fate too? Being just a Queen Consort and a whore inside the private chambers against her own will? Was this the fate of all women?

The hours passed in a blur, despite you being conscious the entire time, you decided to keep your thoughts empty and away from the cruel reality, preferring not to staring Jace. You did not realize how messy and filthy your face was with the King's saliva until you felt Jacaerys's hands caressing your cheeks with panic, trying to clean up the violence he made, his own fingers being full of your cum and the blood that had come out so much from your cunt and from your ass, both tight holes bleeding and hurting like the Seven Hells.

"Gods, I am so sorry." Jace sobbed, keeping to wipe your face. You saw how his eye became even more prettier filled with crystal clear tears, his cheeks red from crying. "I am so sorry, My Queen. I did not mean... I did not mean to be like this. I did not want to be a monster. I just want my family back. I just want to be able to be a good husband, I just want to be a father. I did not want to be that kind of King." Jacaerys hugged your tired and vulnerable form, his naked body shaking from the intense bout of crying as he searched your mouth to kiss you softly, as a way to compensate. The kiss tasted like tears, cum and blood. But you did not care. "Oh, Gods. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, aunt." You let him kiss you with some tenderness while he was apologizing in the midst of despair. You knew everything all too well. All of this would happen again in just a few days.

Jacaerys Velaryon had become the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and you had become his Queen Consort. Grief, sacrifice and pain carried the weight of crowns. The daily tragedies would happen forever until one of you died. This was the true destiny of the Greens and Blacks. There were never victors after the war. The eternal unhappiness was the only conquest.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

The Adventures of Orbwin and Chorb: A Masterlist

This is where any information pertaining to Orbwin and Chorb is stored for any use and for all to see. Written by that-trans-autistic-guy, with an assist by @technically-human who made the first depiction of the orb boys. List is to be updated, please message @that-trans-autistic-guy to request an addition to the list. Posts/fics tagged with the tags attached to this post will be easier to find for everyone who loves the orb boys :D

Traits, Attributes and Ideas

Ship name is Chorbwin

The orbs can purr in the same way cats do. Results in a visual vibration and soft sound. They have limited awareness in orb form, so it follows the feelings of safety and comfort.

The gravitate towards each other slightly, not unlike magnets

Often just soft, warm light but can occasionally be in their hero colors: blue for Edwin, red for Charles

The orbs give off warmth, one the dead and living alike can feel

The girls call them “The Orb Boy Detectives”

Charles made Orbwin a tiny ghost costume

Fanfics

Carry These Torches For You - that_trans_autistic_guy

You Said, “I’ll Never Leave You Alone” - Aster_Flower114

A Better Place, A Better Time - TheFanficMustFlow

Why Do I Tire of Counting Sheep? - carpediemma

The Many Forms of Phantoms - thegirlofthorns

Orbing With Edwin and Charles - grammarglamour

Frippery - Baby_Spinach

Professional Networking - RoseGanymede95

This Little Light of Mine, Let It Shine - ingridmatthews

Let Me Watch Over You - waywardsonsanddaughters

They’re in Lorb (Orb Love) - DarkStars

First Time For Everything - Anonymous

Orbwin’s Day Off - Quicksweetdreamer

A Blue Cap and a Red Jacket - williamvapespeare

The Glow That Dazzles My Eyes - Cesare

Other Types of Intimacy - Asidian

The Case of the Wilson Brothers - justafandomfollower

Your Voice Lights Me Up Like Nothing Else Ever Could - slyvir

Safe - Violet_Baudelaire

“You Must Make Him Feel Really Safe.” - slaycious_royal

Lost Marbles - bluetack

Run Your Fingers Through My Soul - Hse11z5

Doing Nothing With You - PurpleParanoia

Hold Me Tight and Don’t Let Go - cordelianoir

Get Orbed, Losers - kittymaine

Sweettalk My Heart - NuriaSchnee

Listening To Your Voice, I’m Orbin Toward You - slyvir

Ooh You Make Me Live - Dead_but_still_sarcastic

So Cute I Could Just Eat You Up - eunoise

Y’know I Worry - ahyperactivehero

The Case of the Missing Blood Blade - shadyphoenix

Fanart

Recharging - @technically-human

Recharging II - @technically-human

The Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94 - @technically-human

Niko and Orbwin - @gaypanicattackonlegs

Orbwin in Charles’ Jacket - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

Portable Boyfriend - @jube-art

Portable Boyfriend Part 2 - @jube-art

The Girls and Chorbwin - @arisprite

Chorbwin But Colored - @terresdebrume

Cherishing Each Other’s True Forms - @a-jasminator

ORBWIN - @random-art-p3rson

Painland Week Orb Boys - @etheriiart

Chorbwin is my new OTP - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

IRL Orbwin and Chorb (Glass Boys) - @neurodivergent-fangirling

Chorbwin Accessories - @aceofturtles

Confession: Orb Edition - @every-moment-a-different-sound

The Best Orb I Know - @every-moment-a-different-sound

Chorbwin in Elysian Fields - @acheel-and-cat

Spaghetti and Chorb - @aceofturtles

Chorbwin w/ Accessories - @edwinspaynes

Notes from Circles?? - @thesfromhms 

Tiny Orbwin and Chorb - @technically-human

Gay - @sawtism101

DBD Brain Takeover - @disgruntled-rat

Mirror Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Lantern Chorbwin - @aria-hannah

Death Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Eternity Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Happy Chorbwin - @minkbumblebee-blog

Light Orbwin - @beetlebug—1

Earring Orbwin - @margo-mania

Fem!Orbwin - @technically-human

Lantern Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Chorbwin… But Lantern - @disgruntled-rat 

The Annoying Chorb - @thesfromhms

Lighthouse Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Day Four Prompt Chorbwin - @alterego77 

Chorbwin Backpack Cuddles - @dead-but-still-sarcastic

Doll Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold 

Love Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Glow Paint Chorbwin - @lesbicosmos

Spooky Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

A Chorbwin Request - @downbaddetective

Orbwin Light - @etheriiart

Collection Feat. Orbwin - @unicorngunter

Orbwin’s Ghost Costume - @aceofturtles 

Orbwin Jack’O Lantern - @aceofturtles

Pastel Chorbwin - @starsandaces24

Chorb Light - @pippin-katz

Books Chorb - @marbearmarigold

Misc. Chorbwin Posts

Simple Orbs - @crosnt

Great Orb Incident of ‘02 - @edwinspaynes

First Sighting of ‘Chorbwin’ - @ace-misplaced

“ChOrBWIn” - @pippin-katz

Hyperactive Chorb - @khrorazir

Chorbwin Comic - @2ndfannypack

The Orb Boy Wizard - @succstosucculent

Cursed Chorbwin Gifs

Chorbwin Cookies - @dextheartist

Chorbwin Boba Meme - @etheriiart

Photo Of Orbwin - @edwinspaynes

Chorb Animation - @thesfromhms

Crossover Chorb Animation - @aria-hannah

The Orb Cameo - @moonikabear

[jessmalia]

it’s that time of the year again which means of course all i’m thinking about is peter pan

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part one

part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warning: none

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: coryo is the type of person i sincerely hate and i'm glad that there are no such arrogant people in my life, who think they are better than others and who in crisis situations only care about themselves and to save their own arse. but at the same time i'm aware that young snow could be someone i'd catch a crush on at school. so why shouldn't i hate him even more?

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: you told me to tag you everywhere, so i'm back to doing it again; @wolfmoonmusic

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The problem with snow is its tendency to melt, mirroring the way we once thought our feelings would endure forever. Yet, shouldn't emotions, particularly those nestled in our hearts, last longer?

You had known Coriolanus since childhood, and your families had always been close. You had grown up together, surviving the hardships of the war-torn Capitol side by side, and now, in the post-war era, you were still inseparable. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you going above a simple friendship. Your connection ran deep, like the roots of the oldest trees in the Panem's forests.

Coriolanus was an intriguing character, a puzzle you had been solving together since you were children. He was the embodiment of Capitol charm, with his perfectly tailored suits, polished manners, and charismatic smile that could sway even the most skeptical of Capitol elites. But you knew that beneath that carefully constructed facade was a mind as sharp as a blade and a heart that carried the weight of his family's fallen reputation.

Yet, when he was with you, it was as if a different side of him emerged. The hard lines on his face softened, and his icy demeanor melted away. With you, he could be himself, unburdened by the expectations of Capitol society. It was a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask, and you cherished those moments even more than your favorite jasmine tea and the cat you found shortly after the war had ended.

You couldn't help but admire his intelligence, his quick wit, and his relentless determination to succeed in a world that often seemed stacked against him. His family's name might have been tarnished, but Coriolanus was determined to reclaim their lost glory. He was driven by a burning ambition that flickered like an eternal flame, and you were his unwavering support, the one who fanned that flame to keep it burning bright.

In your eyes, he was more than the sum of his flaws and ambitions. He was the boy you had shared secrets with under moonlit skies, the man who had held you when the world crumbled around you, and the person who knew you better than anyone else. With him, you felt safe, cherished, and loved in a way that no one else could replicate.

Your love for him was boundless, and you were content in the knowledge that you were his confidante, the one person he could be truly vulnerable with. Your relationship with Coriolanus was the envy of many in academy, a seemingly perfect match of two souls intertwined by fate and affection. You were the golden couple, a shining example of love and devotion in a world that often lacked both.

But you wished you had known sooner that it's often the things we love most that destroy us, as Coriolanus Snow's world was about to collide with that of a girl named Lucy Gray and you were not ready for it to happen.

As the day of the tribute's arrival approached, you had been by Coriolanus's side more than ever. The weeks leading up to this moment had been filled with your unwavering support. You had reassured him countless times, sitting together in your cozy bedroom, his head resting gently on your thighs while you combed your fingers through his soft blonde curls. It was a calming gesture, one that had become a comforting routine. You listened to his concerns, his fears, and his ambitions, and you were sure that everything would be fine, that he would be just perfect as a mentor, and that his scholarship and dreams of continuing his studies at the university were within reach.

Your words were like a soothing melody to him, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this daunting new role. He would look into your eyes with his cold ones, filled with gratitude, and you could see the weight lifting from his shoulders, if only temporarily. And in those moments, you felt like his anchor, the one who kept him grounded amid the chaos of his own thoughts.

Now, you both stood at the nearly deserted train station, the oppressive heat of the day hanging heavily in the air. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, casting shimmering waves of heat across the empty platform. It seemed that most of the Capitol's citizens had chosen to stay indoors, seeking refuge from the sweltering weather.

The only other souls present were a handful of stoic peacekeepers, their pristine white uniforms stark against the dull backdrop of the station. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond, a reminder of the bustling Capitol life that lay just outside the station's borders.

Coriolanus tightly held a single white rose plucked from his grandmother's garden, a symbol of his intent to make a lasting impression on his tribute. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of your academy uniforms. The simplicity of the white rose spoke of his sincerity and dedication to this new role as mentor.

With no clear timetable for the tribute train's arrival, the two of you stood patiently, pretending that the day's weather didn't bother you, the weight of uncertainty hanging over you like a heavy cloud. Coriolanus shifted his gaze between the tracks and the single white bloom in his hand.

You observed him closely, and when his gaze finally met yours, you offered a reassuring smile. “Remember, Coryo,” you murmured, “no matter what, you'll be the mentor she needs; your sincerity and kindness will shine through.”

“I hope you're right, Y/N,” he replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. “I need her to survive on the arena as long as she can,” he added, as if the idea of a group of vulnerable youths engaging in brutal competition in just a few days were the most ordinary occurrence in the world.

But that was precisely what it represented for the Capitol residents – the Hunger Games, an annual spectacle of entertainment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly under the unrelenting sun, and the station remained eerily devoid of any signs of life. It felt as though hours had passed, but in truth, you couldn't be sure. Beads of perspiration formed on your brows, and you could feel the heat radiating from the platform's surface.

You and Coriolanus were on the verge of giving up and returning to the cool embrace of your penthouses when, at long last, the distant rumble of an oncoming train reached your ears. The sound grew steadily louder, and you looked at each other, exchanging tired glances.

Coriolanus's grip on the white rose tightened as he turned his gaze towards the approaching train. As he rose from the bench where you had sat, his anticipation peaked. You stood beside him, wanting to be his support, but you had no idea that your role was about to change very soon.

The train pulled into the station with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes, billowing clouds of moisture and smoke into the scorching air. The two of you watched the machine in silent, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment when you would come face to face with people from the Districts, individuals whose lives were so far removed from the opulence and extravagance of your own. It was a rare and humbling experience, one that left you with a slight quiver in your step as you clung to Coriolanus, seeking solace in his reassuring presence.

For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. The train's doors remained sealed shut, as if holding its cargo of tributes in a reluctant embrace. The only thing that reached you was an unpleasant stench wafting from the carriages, a stark reminder of the grim reality that these young souls were about to face.

Finally the impatient peacekeepers took matters into their own hands. They descended upon the train, their authoritative presence enough to scare the tributes out of their temporary sanctuary. One by one, they were herded onto the platform, their expressions ranging from fear to defiance.

And then, your eyes locked onto a figure unlike the others. A girl stood there, her presence a stark contrast to the muted palettes of others tributes. She wore a rainbow-colored dress that shimmered with vibrancy, a flare of color and individuality amidst the sea of old attire. You recognized her immediately from the television screens, a girl whose name had already become a part of your daily life even before this encounter.

Lucy Gray Baird.

The very name whispered in the hushed tones of Capitol citizens as they watched her on the screens, intrigued and fascinated by her enigmatic presence from the Reaping. Her gaze swept across the platform, and for a brief moment, your eyes locked onto each other's.

You couldn't help but break into a warm, welcoming smile. With a cheerful wave of your hand, you signaled to her that both you and Coriolanus were eagerly awaiting her arrival, hoping to ease the initial tension of this life-altering moment.

Lucy Gray's response was a hesitant yet appreciative smile in return. Her steps were slow and cautious as she walked slowly toward you, a palpable sense of curiosity radiated from her, her eyes flitting between the unfamiliar faces that lined the platform.

Your gaze briefly shifted to Coriolanus, a subtle expectation in your heart that his eyes would mirror the warmth you felt. But when you looked at him, you noticed something different. It was as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to Lucy Gray, locked onto her with a nearly unwavering intensity that bordered on fixation. Those eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now held an expression you had never quite seen before. It was as though he had stumbled upon a priceless museum exhibit, left captivated, awestruck, and undeniably intrigued.

A soft, knowing smile played at the corners of your lips, silently acknowledging his reaction to the girl before you. You gently squeezed his hand, a gesture of affection and solidarity. You understood that this moment bore immense significance for him, that he was on the corner of a journey filled with unforeseen challenges. Lucy Gray was the keynote of this new chapter in his life, and you couldn't help but admire her from a distance, captivated by her unique presence and the aura that surrounded her.

Before you could utter a word, Coriolanus took a determined step forward, his eyes still locked on the girl. He extended his hand, offering her the pristine white rose he had clutched throughout the wait and with a subtle nod, he greeted her in a tone that resonated with formality and welcome.

“Welcome to the Capitol.”

part two »

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bet

Male OC x Tzuyu

Tags: 1k, smut

The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

Tzuyu was sitting in the deserted communal lounge, her face buried in a book. She wasn’t, technically, hiding. That would have gone against the rules.

She was just getting some alone time without all those hands running aimlessly over her body, fingertips trailing her figure and peering beneath her garments, lips and teeth caressing and nibbling every inch of her skin...

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt scorching hot in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing. She bit her lip and sighed.

The words on the page she had been reading and re-reading for the last ten minutes without really understanding the meaning blurred, as she became engrossed in her thoughts once more, still puzzled as to how she had gotten up in that situation.

A shy, prudish, inexperienced freshman like her was playing with fire. Or worse, with the rampaging hormones of a bunch of college boys.

She made a lighthearted, drunken mistake, but she was paying its price with her body and no end in sight.

Betting with her buddies while inebriated sounded innocuous, and she was confident it wasn’t anything they were going to follow up on anyhow.

But she was wrong - dreadfully wrong.

It was all a game in her eyes. And she was pretty sure she was going to win at the time. But she lost, and the guys eagerly demanded their prize.

She had turned into a real-life sex doll for them: she had to let them touch her body, grab, and grope her as they liked, and offer herself whenever they wanted.

This was her retribution for being so irresponsible and stupid. Worst of all, she was beginning to like it, even though she would never say it out loud.

She had been feeling so dirty and depraved. Tzuyu had only had one previous boyfriend, her high school beau, and she’d never experienced sex or pleasure.

And now, whenever a hand reached for her, a small bolt of electricity would rip through her body, giving her shivers and stealing her breath. Being forcefully exposed in front of others was humiliating, but it gave her sensations she had never expected to feel.

Even though the guilt and shame were eating at her, her body was sending her new signals and feelings that she had never experienced before.

She was drawn sharply back to reality when she was pulled back by her hair.

Electricity coursed through her as she saw two dark eyes upside down, mischievously staring at her.

“Did you plan on staying hidden for much longer? We were worried by your sudden disappearance...” Hyeon inquired, keeping her head tilted and caressing her throat.

His fingertips were ice cold, but her skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“I had to study. You know, exams...” she mumbled, while he played with the sweatshirt zip, loosening it. His hand crept under, reaching for the bra.

Hyeon cupped his hand around her breast and began massaging it. He let her hair go and did the same with the other hand.

“I see,” he said quietly, “then go ahead and read. I’ll help myself.”

Her vision blurred when he gently pinched and twisted her nipples. She was embarrassed by who she had become, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop it. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to put a stop to it.

Tzuyu sighed as she felt a twitch in her womb. She closed her eyes and leaned against Hyeon’s body, allowing him easier access to her. Against her neck, she could feel already the bulge in his pants.

She blushed again, both from her thoughts and from his gentle touch on her skin. She could feel she was getting wet.

Hyeon drew his hands away from her sweatshirt after what seemed like an eternity. As he leaned over her, he reached for her skirt. He unceremoniously lifted it, revealing her underwear. He slid the fabric to the side, A light touch on her labia made her moan.

“You’re such a slut Tzuyu, you’re already wet...” he chuckled as he gently stroked her.

He pushed two fingers into her warmth, provoking her another moan. She held her breath and widened her eyes as she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Jisung and Suho were sitting on the desk on both her sides; she hadn’t noticed their presence. They were stroking their erections through their shorts while enjoying the little show.

They laughed as she violently blushed and tried to cover herself. Jisung smiled, bending over to grab her cheeks and kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sucking her lips.

“Come on baby, stand up,” Hyeon said, pulling his fingers out of her and grabbing her arms.

He pushed her against the desk, ignoring her weak protests and whining. Her hair covered her face completely, blocking her view. She could hear the other two guys unzipping their shorts and the light clank of their belts hitting the ground.

Several hands caressed her skin and lifted her clothes to reveal her body. Someone took her wrists and pressed them against her back.

As fingers grabbed the hem of her undies and pulled them off, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.

A hand caressed and squeezed her buttocks, followed by a slap. As she tried to wiggle out from underneath the guy who was blocking her, she was hit with a harder slap that took her breath away.

“Stop squirming or you’ll hurt yourself,” Jisung said, pulling her head up by her hair. Her gaze met his as she groaned beneath his hands. He kissed her once more, firmly holding her head. While Jisung’s tongue was playing with hers, someone gently rubbed his sex on hers. He pushed his way through her soaked labia and inside. Her moans got lost in Jisung’s mouth, which was still devouring her lips.

The third person let go of her wrists and grabbed one of her hands, pressing it against his erection.

Tzuyu noticed it was Suho masturbating with her hand. She gave in to his grip, wrapping her fingers around his hardness and letting him guide her. Jisung let her mouth and head go, and Hyeon grabbed her by the hair, pushing his length deep into her.

Jisung then kneeled on the desk and presented her with his member, stroking it on her cheek, and lips. She disclosed them and welcomed him, clasping her semi-closed eyes in his as he entered her warm mouth slowly. Hyeon’s tight grip on her head guided her rhythm as her tongue twisted around his girth.

It was the first time they pulled something like that on her, she had never been taken by more than one person at the same time.

Tzuyu thoughts were clouded by pleasure.

With each thrust in her mouth or sex, electricity scurried through her entire body. Her desperate, rising moans were suffocated in her mouth.

Hyeon let go of her hair, which was replaced by Jisung’s grip, and groaning sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips.

She tilted her head, her senses dulled and inebriated, as they both went faster and deeper. Shivers ran down her spine, and a tingling warmth propagated through her like wild, uncontrollable waves.

Hyeon came into her depths and collapsed on her back. His skin was warm and sweaty, his breathing heavy.

Then it was Jisung’s turn, who came into her mouth, pressing her head against his groin while his throbs slowed and he softened, slipping off her lips.

Suho let go of her hand and rushed for her.

He rolled her over, moved her to the edge of the desk, and positioned himself directly above her head.

Then bent over her and plunged his erection into her mouth.

Tzuyu grasped his thighs, overwhelmed, her mind empty of all but bliss.

One of the guys parted her legs and buried his face in her, holding on to her knees.

Two hands completely unzipped her sweatshirt and reached for her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She was totally helpless, which really just heightened her arousal. Her body was stiffening and twitching as tension built up within her.

The guy eating her, bit her labia, ascending to the clit, then circled it with his tongue, first gently caressing it, then with frantic strokes that left her screaming and squirming under his mouth. He firmly gripped her thighs, lapping and sucking her and pushing her over the edge.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, he slid two fingers into her, moving them slowly.

Her orgasm burst violently, her back arched, and every inch of her body shivered, pervaded by a tickling ecstasy that released her tension.

Suho came soon after, filling her mouth once again.

She stopped shaking after a good minute or two. She could feel her heart rate lowering, but she kept her eyes closed.

She was feeling warm and fuzzy. She didn’t want to face yet the actuality of what had just occurred.

The three guys were busy pulling up their pants and composing themselves.

to meet the three pleased stares. Tzuyu quickly shut her legs and tried to put back her hoodie, embarrassed.

Jisung seized her hands and held her back.

“Don’t bother covering, cutie; no one else is here. Even if that were the case, anyone would have adored the show.” He reached for her mouth and kissed her.

“When is this prize thing going to end?” she sighed, as she sat on the desk.

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Suho joked as he buckled his belt. “ You seemed to be having a good time two minutes ago.”

She blushed again, looking away.

“It will end when we unanimously decide that the payback for the lost bet is adequate, obviously. And I’m sure tonight at least a couple of gentlemen will be interested in discussing with you what just happened, so don’t go and hide again,” Hyeon added.

He gave her a wry grin and a nonchalant nod before heading out of the room, followed by Jisung and Suho.

Tzuyu was alone again.

The sun had begun to set, and the communal lounge was getting darker.

She retrieved her underwear and put it on.

Her mind was a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. She was heated and out of breath. She couldn’t understand why she would enjoy the whole bet and prize thing; it was so wicked and dirty. It wasn’t like her, to do things like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it.

Tzuyu knew she could demand they stop at any point, and if they refused, she could simply go talk to the student representative. They’d be in big trouble.

But perhaps she just didn’t want it to stop.

She sat at the desk, her head buried in the soft sleeves, until it was completely dark, with just the streetlamps from outside shedding some light on the walls through the large windows.

She took a deep breath and smiled, wondering who would be the first to take her that evening.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

More Mech Au-Au!

Swindle-orientated chapter, with sprinkles of TexAid.

Swindle smiled at everyone.

He smiled at those he was happy with, he smiled at those who had pissed him off, he smiled at those he was making deals with, the list was endless.

The only time he didn’t smile was when he was on his own. The door would click closed behind him, the lock automatically engaging, and the facade would slide from his face.

This all had to be worth it. It had to. He’d risked so much already, he was gambling at stakes he couldn’t pay. Failure would mean death, death for all five of them, and as such, failure was unacceptable.

He’d promised Onslaught.

Vortex was a source of pride for him - a prototype mech who had survived against all odds, plumping up his resume handsomely. The only surviving AI from that round and the round that came after - against all odds, Vortex had persisted. He hadn’t self destructed like his own cohort had, he hadn’t lost his sense of reality, he didn’t completely lose himself. He remained exactly who he was, for better or for worse. The discussions of destroying him once he’d begun to show his more aggressive tendencies were terrifying, sending Swindle scrambling for ways to extract Vortex from the mech. They didn’t get this far just to be treated like they were disposable. Had they forgotten that they were real people they’d trapped within the metal? What did it matter that they were slated to die anyway? That didn’t mean they could just be destroyed when they became inconvenient, there was supposed to be a due process. They were owed that much.

Swindle hung up his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Fuck. They’d gotten so lucky with that boy – Felix, right? That was his name, and Swindle has a vague recollection of his name meaning luck. Good for them that he lived up to it – they were lucky that he was persistent and determined, lucky that Vortex seemed to like him. His teammate liked to play with his food, and it seemed he was settling in to give First Aid a good long chew. Which was good! It meant Vortex was unknowingly buying himself some more time whilst he looked for ways to extract him and put him in something else. Anything else would do at this point - shit, he could be his toaster and burn his toast for eternity. At least he’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be left alone again.

Shit. How depressing. How did this become their only option?

Swindle kicked off his shoes, neatly placing them away onto the rack, and shrugged off his jacket

“I want to make them burn in hell.”

He’d done it because he had to. He took no pleasure in what happened to his team after he gave the wrong people the right intel - but it was this, or they’d all be dead. Like, dead-in-the-ground-dead. Skullfucked by maggots dead. Not on ice, not in giant suits of armour with guns and swords bigger than buildings, dead. Dead and forgotten, and it would be all five of them. Nobody alive to fight in their corner, nobody to keep them as safe as they could, nobody to do what needed to be done.

The screams didn’t haunt him like they used to. While they were still alive, skulking around the research centre with tags and monitors and cables and cameras on them at all times, people did terrible things to them. Trepan was the most frightening. He was enraptured with the idea of creating super soldiers. That’s what they’d tried at first - they’d needed warm, fresh, and living bodies - and who would notice if a mercenary group went missing? Everyone would just assume that they had died, and that would be that. They wouldn’t even look for their corpses.

Vortex had been the most difficult one for them to deal with. He was rude, unruly, and dished back what he was given. At one point they’d had to strap him down Hannibal style just to give him his injections - after they’d removed his prosthetic arm when he’d slashed through the restraints and three researchers with the hidden blade, he’d taken to biting down hard enough to rip chunks of flesh from the researchers instead. Vortex would laugh through the blood that dripped down his chin, but he’d always ended up screaming.

Brawl was freakishly quiet. He would press his palms to his temples, his eyes dull and face gaunt. Swindle would never admit how it made his insides churn, how guilt had ravaged him into sleepless nights. They all screamed, they all cried through the agony of it, but it was the worst when they were quiet. His team wasn’t meant to be quiet. They were always doing something, saying something. Vortex was always pissing off Blast Off, winding him up like a younger sibling did to an older one. Brawl was always playing music far too loud in his headphones. Onslaught was much quieter, but he was his own kind of orchestra of sound. A gun being cleaned, turning pages, the squeak of leather.

They weren’t in the research facility. They were shadows of themselves.

Onslaught had always given Swindle his looks though. No blame. No fault given. Thankful. They’d made a promise, after all. They’d agreed that this was what they would do, how it would happen. Anything that gave them longer to figure out what the fuck they were going to do.

The experiments were a failure. All it gave them were broken men. But that only gave them perfectly usable test subjects for something else, for another failing project.

Trepan had asked Swindle personally who he would volunteer as their first test subject. Who did he think had the best chance of success? Who did he think would make the best immortal warrior?

The cockroach, he’d replied. Vortex was fucking impossible to kill. He’d seen him getting himself blown up multiple times. He’d had to pay to fix his face, he’d had to pay to fix his spine, he’d had to pay for that damn prosthetic and every single hospital stay to stitch him back together. And not once had the man been touched by death. If a nuclear bomb were to fall on them, he was convinced Vortex would emerge unscathed and demanding a cigarette.

He was also extremely resistant to control. He despised being told what to do. Onslaught was an exception because he had actually made an effort to build a rapport with him, it was a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. And Trepan? Every single scientist in this building? Vortex would rend them to dust and ash if they even entertained the thought of controlling him.

It was a hopeful moment, a glimpse into an optimistic future. Vortex would lose his humanity, but they would all regain their freedom.

But good things didn’t favour terrible men.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

The photoshoot with Blurr was overrunning. It was already eleven o’clock at night - they’d been at this since 10 in the morning, working hard to get their perfect shots. The photogenic mechanics (paid actors). The intelligent engineers (more paid actors). The trustworthy medics (yet more paid actors). Their only non-actor was Blurr, but even then he was just their show dog. He wasn’t actually a pilot, not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t deployed, he was paraded.

Blurr would want to talk after, to natter away about something or other, to get a drink together and maybe a bite to eat, but Swindle just wanted to go to bed. He was tired. Exhausted. Going into his teammates lockers to grab a photograph had just dug up old memories from where he’d buried them, and he’d woken up with Vortex’s screams in his native tongue ringing in his ears, unable to get back to sleep. He could still hear it between the sounds of the camera shutter.

First Aid seemed to be a nice enough kid. He got on well with others, he did his job without complaint, and he was efficient. He didn’t dally around when he was to clamber into Vortex, he was quick and to the point - and, Swindle noticed with growing curiosity, he studiously avoided touching his controls.

If only the pilots were smart enough to pick up on that. Shame, really. It was starting to get real expensive to keep this quiet.

So it was with quiet horror that he watched as First Aid was trapped within the cockpit, the medic accompanying him collapsing to the floor as blood spurted up the glass from where his leg used to be.

He found himself hissing through his teeth. Don’t do anything stupid, Tex!

When First Aid stumbled out looking like his first pilot he’d ever had did, Swindle felt a grim mood take over him. How hard was it to fucking behave? To not do something so unbelievably stupid? To not get himself killed? Apparently it was too much for Vortex to fucking control himself.

But First Aid had been okay. The next day he was as chipper and chirpy as ever with full recollection of the previous day. He’d thought it was funny.

And that’s when Swindle knew that the boy was their chance. If he could survive Vortex, if Vortex was allowing him to live, then they had to seize the opportunity they could.

Nobody listened. Nobody fucking listened. They were repatriating children in biohazard bags, not even a hand left intact for their loved ones to hold as they said goodbye, and they weren’t listening to him.

They needed Felix Anwyl in that mech. Now. He was sick of watching lambs being offered up for sacrifice. Vortex was a malicious bastard but even he would get bored of it all eventually - and from where Swindle was standing, he saw a much better chance of getting their brothers online if Vortex settled down and stopped acting like he was possessed by the devil.

Seeing Felix sprinting towards Vortex in a pilots suit that didn’t fit him, Swindle discretely cleared the way. He distracted the officers with him, had them avert their eyes for a second to let him pass. He redirected people, he gave distractions, he delayed who he could to buy First Aid much needed time to get to the mech before that cadet took a single step inside. Vortex would kill them for the intrusion, he’d explicitly had enough of it and was demanding what was his. His words in the morning memos were enough.

Swindle was out of options. He needed to get First Aid into that mech before they stamped the paperwork to render the supposed AI obsolete and for the scrap heap.

He didn’t have a toaster ready for him yet.

Prowl had looked thunderous on the catwalk. So had Pharma. He had to fight to keep his grin at bay - he had to press his hand to his lips to hide it when Vortex began yelling ‘mine’ through the walkie talkie.

Oh, he really liked this one.

Pharma had kicked up the biggest fuss. He didn’t want to lose his precious medic.

Swindle checked his file. First Aid hadn’t been on any major medical assignments since the previous year, and there was no record of why. No particular displeasures, no signs of any faults or major errors, any need to retrain, or competencies lapsing and requiring reassessment. Pharma had just decided to force First Aid away from his job in some bizarre, inexplicable act.

He’d grabbed him by the collar and hissed into his ear that the blood was on his hands. That if he wanted to keep First Aid, then he could be the one to clear the mech out, that he would be the one to write to the families and explain what had happened.

Pharma had opened his mouth and begun to say something about a punishment, but Swindle placed his finger to his lips and shook his head.

“It’s not on his record.” He reminded him, tapping the file. “Do you want to incriminate yourself? Right here?”

And so he’d received the stamp of approval that evening. The ink was still wet as he shook Pharmas hand, the man holding his too tightly.

First Aid seemed to like Vortex too.

Pilots didn’t usually go and hang out with their mechs. They liked to be near them – apparently there was something about the connection that had them bond in such a way that they liked to be close to them, that they’d feel drawn towards them, but First Aid’s seemed to be almost excessive. At every free opportunity, he was there. If you couldn’t find him, the advice was to check Vortex – he’d probably be in the cockpit reading a book or listening to music, or he’d be elbow deep cleaning out the joints from the gunk the clean up crew didn’t manage to get. If it was a meal time and he wasn’t in his room or in the cafeteria, he was with Vortex.

His secondary role on base was still, technically, a medic – but Pharma had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome back in the medical bay. He’d made his bed, so to speak – if he wanted to be a pilot, then he’d be one, but it was at the sacrifice of his oath to medicine, so he wasn’t allowed to perform it. He was left to spin his wheels, to attend training sessions when they could run them for him (it was an open secret that he wasn’t a pilot, but a secret it was) and scratch his arse until the alarm went off and he was marked for deployment.

Swindle didn’t know that Pharma could hold such a grudge. He’d made a mental note to never piss him off.

A few times, when Swindle couldn’t sleep and was on a walk, he’d seen First Aid slipping into Vortex. He’d raised his brows at that.

Swindle didn’t know how Vortex hadn’t squished him yet.

Vortex fell back into the Shatterdome, rain thundering down on his armour sounding like the roar of a passing train. Sparks erupted from the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be, two of his back blades torn free and the remaining hanging on by rapidly breaking cables. The mech fell to its knees, catching itself on its remaining arm, its visor flashing a single message over and over.

OBJECTIVE ONE: PROTECT THE PILOT.

For the first time, Vortex had obeyed the objective embedded into each of their mechs. Protect the pilot. More than that, he’d brought him straight back to them.

Swindle watched him in quiet awe.

Wow. He really liked this one.

When the radio had cut out in a roar of static, Swindle had half expected Vortex to stay out on the front and continue his slaughter like he usually did when his pilot died, but instead he watched as the red dot that symbolised Vortex on the screen instead turned around and began sprinting back to the Shatterdome, ignoring all of the targets around him, ignoring when a quintesson got a good hit on him, barrelling past the other deployed mechs. Mission Control received multiple communications from the other pilots out in the field, confused calls from the crews of the helicopters monitoring from above - Vortex wasn’t responding. Vortex was moving entirely independently - his pilot was unresponsive and his life signal was so weak it could easily have been the electricity from the cables exposed to the elements being detected instead.

His walkie talkie crackled as Vortex looked directly at the large room Mission Control sat in overlooking the hangar. A voice he hadn’t heard in years ground out.

“He dies, everyone dies.”

Swindle swallowed hard, and nodded.

“Tex?” The voice was weak and unrecognisable. Swindle realised it must have been Felix. He was alive and conscious enough to speak - Swindle was already waving off people trying to get permission to do things, motioning for them to just get fucking on with it.

“Get that pilot out!” He hissed at them.

“It’s going to be okay.” Vortex promised. Swindle didn’t know his voice could get so soft.

“Stay put, Tex. Don’t move a muscle and unlock your emergency escape, the medics are here.” Swindle spoke into the walkie talkie. He received a few weird looks from those around him, but he ignored them. He’d field their curiosities later - for now, he had to focus on keeping Felix alive and figuring out how they were going to safely contain Vortex.

Fuck. He wished Onslaught had been activated. He’d know what to do. For a brief moment he wished their positions were reversed. He’d have handled all this shit so much better. Swindle would never tell him or ever admit it, but Onslaught was always the brains of the unit, he always had a plan. He’d probably have had all of them activated by now, brought the whole team back together again.

He chewed his bottom lip until it bled, the taste of copper stinging on his tongue.

The medic had to live. He had to. There was no protecting Vortex if he went on a murder spree - they could just about justify the pilots being pulverised inside of him, the difference between the cost to spec up and build and test a mech that was his equal vs the cost to train a new pilot was extraordinary. Vortex could, in theory, chew through a few hundred more pilots before they’d start to wonder if they should have just built a new mech. But to destroy a whole base?

Yeah. No. It would be significantly more difficult to justify it as a misidentified ‘protect the pilot’ protocol. Sure, he could argue that the base failed to save his pilot, but how would the mech know? Why did the mech identify the Shatterdome as a target? Clearly it was faulty, glitched, and needed to go.

Vortex was not one to be reasoned with. Swindle knew that all too well. There wasn’t going to be the opportunity to talk him down from his decision.

They succeeded, or they failed. That was it. One or the other. Felix survived, or everyone died.

God, he prayed that Felix was as much of a cockroach as Vortex was.