#every fiber of my being kept wanting to shrink it

[gnawonid]

Fare you well, my lady.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 37: "Evermore"

"And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn't be for evermore..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

“We have half a mind to throw you on The Raft after what you did," the first old man on the council sneers down at you. You refuse to shrink to his glare, instead shifting forward so your elbows rest on the small desk. As they played it all back, highlighted the worst and best moments of the last year of your life, you just continued reminding yourself of what you were fighting for, who you were fighting to get back. 

“It was an accident!” Sam fumes from beside you. He'd mostly managed to maintain his composure during this whole affair, but slowly but surely the whole thing was getting out of hand. You huffed, squirming in your chair as the heavy restraints tugged on your neck and wrists. “An accident that you could’ve prevented if you hadn’t separated her from every single person that knows her.”

"You shot a SHIELD agent. How is that an accident?"

"He's lucky I shot him in the leg. The situation was already diffused and under control. She was already calm."

"According to you," he man retorts, clearing not believing a word Sam is saying.

"It was unnecessary and excessive force. I did what I had to do."

This had already been going on for several hours, this weird semi-trial about what your future was going to look like. All while you were barely able to squeeze in a word. When you did, they spoke over you, berated you and Sam for the mistakes that were made. It wasn't pretty to watch.

The only consolation was Sam. It had been almost 8 hours and he was fighting for you with every fiber of his being. He'd given them snippets of his reports, reports you'd never even heard of let alone seen, and the way he spoke about you- it made it that much easier to believe him when he said he cared about you. 

You were given only a few minutes to talk to Sam, and only Sam, before these 'proceedings' started. He told you to that he'd take care of it this time. You were to show them the best version of you, the side the won over Nick Fury and the Avengers. That was your only role to play- SHIELD's good little asset.

But for better or worse, that role was getting harder and harder to play. It was constricting like the metaphorical costume no longer fit you. 

The men on this pseudo-council all sat on a platform, very literally talking down to you while you and Sam sat in front of them at a wooden table, listening as they all stated things that the two of you already knew, but phrased in a way that made it seem like you two were crazy.

And as you sat there, at least 10 pounds worth of chains around your wrists and ankles in tandem with the same collar used in your kidnapping to render you powerless, you felt a little crazy. 

“You’ve made the asset completely reliant upon you," Man in Suit #2 pipes in. You didn't even bother learning their names, since they didn't bother to learn your's- they just kept referring to you as 'The Asset'. In the first few hours, you tried to reconcile it, at least it was a cool nickname, but now it was agitating you in a way you didn't completely understand. "That’s not a good thing.”

“I’m not an asset,” you interject. 

“Excuse me?” Man in Suit #5 scoffs.

“My name is not ‘the asset’," you repeat, this time louder. "I’m a person- a real person.”

“We understand that, Miss,” the same man condescendingly sighs, rolling his eyes as if that information is completely useless to him. 

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand. I don’t want a new handler. I don't want to relocate. I want Sam. I want to live in New York,” you state, making no attempt to hide your irritation and frustration at the whole situation. 

Man #3 sighs at you like a petulant child, very clearly annoyed at having to explain anything to you, “We believe that Mr. Wilson’s emotional attachment is clouding his judgment, which is proven by the numerous, very serious incidents which have occurred in recent time. He’s made it very clear that he’s not fit to handle such a valuable asset. It's for your own good.”

“Don't I get to decide that? Doesn’t it matter what I want?" you continue. "I’m right here, have you any of you ever thought to ask me if I think Sam’s doing a good job?”

“You’ve been kidnapped. You’ve been nearly killed. What more evidence do we need of Mr. Wilson’s incompetence?”

“Has anyone bothered to learn anything about her beyond her abilities?” Bucky asks from behind you with Steve and Tony seated right behind you.

Steve and Tony, unlike Bucky, were both already privy to these 'proceedings' as they called them, and both of them had already given their own insight as the unofficial leaders of the Avengers. 

But Bucky was adamant about attending. You huffed in annoyance when they allowed him to, not because you didn't want him to be there, but they were willing to listen to him, to concede to him, but they had still yet to hear a word you were saying. And this was about you, about your future, and you hadn't squeezed in a word otherwise.

You didn't see the way Steve had to continuously hold Bucky down in his seat. Every time they said something awful about you, every time you flinched as they hurled accusation left and right, he wanted to jump out of his seat. And he would've, if it weren't for Steve's firm grip on his shoulder and Steve's many reminders to him that any outburst from him could make things worse for you.

“Sergeant Barnes.” Man in Suit #2 curtly warns. "You're here because we allowed it, we can also remove you."

"Yeah, okay," you scoff sarcastically. "Try and remove the super soldier."

Sam stifles a chuckle from beside you, clearly wanting to be amused at seeing the rebellious side of you, but he knew that defiance wouldn't serve you here. 

“I have her file- right here.” Bucky holds up the folder. You can't turn around to look at him because of the restraints but you silently thank him anyway. “And if anyone had done their due diligence, they’d see that Sam’s always done what was best for her. I met her six months into her acclimation period. Six months is absolutely nothing compared to the lifetime she spent in captivity. And when I met her she was well-adjusted, happy, healthy, and a freaking good person. A good person ready to jump into a lifetime of service, do you realize how incredible that is? Do you realize what it took for the two of them to get to that point? And to disregard all that progress is…it’s stupid.”

“We know about the progress she’s made, Sergeant Barnes. That doesn’t change the events that have occurred.”

“What exactly do you want from her? To be your little asset for the rest of your life?” Sam scoffs. “Keep her contained and free from emotional attachments? Good luck. I know it’s not perfect, but we do our best. You can blame me for everything that’s happened, but you know as well as I do that no matter what you do with her there is going to be danger. At least with us, we have her back. We know her limits. We care if she’s happy. Can you guarantee the same if you ship her off to whatever remote location you feel like?”

"We feel that it's best to separate before you get her killed. We're trying to keep her alive," the man reminds Sam, you can see the way Sam's jaw clenches at the verbal jab.

"Even if it makes her miserable?" Sam counters, the conviction in his words clear as day. 

"Yes," Man #3 answers simply. 

"I won't," you bluntly interrupt, getting more irate at everyone else being able to speak for you when they wouldn't allow you to do that for yourself. "I won't do it."

"Excuse me?" Man #1 scoffs. 

"I won't do it," you repeat this time with more force.

"What are you doing?" Sam quietly hisses as you deviate from your previously discussed strategy. You knew the strategy was to show them that you were still the well-adjusted asset that was still fully in control of yourself. But you couldn't take it anymore, you couldn't be this thing anymore.

You apologetically look at him, knowing that if this doesn't work you very well could end up on the Raft. You take a deep breath and sit up in spite of all the restraints on you. Your eyes flicker to each individual man as you speak, "You can throw me on The Raft. You can keep this collar on me, which by the way- kind of messed up to put on a person. But I will never help you again. Ever. Unless you start listening to me- Unless you send me back to New York with Sam as my handler. And if you can't do that, then I can't help you anymore. The ball is in your net."

"Court," Sam coughs to hide his correction.

"Court," you quickly amend.

"It's not up to you," the man seethes.

You shrug, offering only a remorseful smile, "Then I can't help you anymore."

"Do you understand what you're saying right now? Assets that refuse to comply-"

"I know exactly what I'm saying," you state defiantly. "It's my life, and I want to live it the way I want. Now we can- uh..."

"Compromise?" Sam offers, trying and failing to hide his proud smile.

"Thank you," you smile back at him. "We can compromise or I'm done helping you. It's your choice."

The entire council sits stone-face, though their eyes flicker to each other at the unexpected turn of events. "We'll take a recess. We'll reconvene in an hour."

You nod, settling back in your chair until a guard walks up next to you to escort you out of the make-shift courtroom. He pulls you up out of your seat, looking irritated at your limited range of movement. Sam scowls at the man, grabbing your other arm to help you up. 

You and Sam are silently walked down the corridor to a small legal library. Once you both are in the room, the door slams behind you, the lock clicking as you two take your seats at the small table. 

And then you just have to wait. 

Both of you swiveling back and forth in your chairs as you wait to hear anything. Neither of you really say anything, the both of you completely unsure of what came next. You'd taken a big risk in there, they could walk in at any moment and ship you off to the Raft or any other location that they felt like.

And then there was the fact that you had no clue what to say to each other. You tore down a building because you thought he betrayed you. You thought that you didn't matter to him. He told you that it wasn't a betrayal. He shot a man for you. Fought like hell for the last 8 hours trying to win you back your freedom. To say it was a lot was a massive understatement. 

"Has it been an hour yet?" you sigh, breaking the silence as the two of you sit slumped back in your chairs.

Sam dramatically sighs in boredom. "Don't know. They took my phone and my watch. And my tie."

"How would a watch or tie help me escape?" you scoff, sliding further down in your chair.

"No clue," he shrugs. "You know, you were really brave in there."

"Brave or reckless?" you chuckle, turning your thrown back head to look at him.

"Depends on the answer we get," Sam snickers, adjusting the collar of his shirt for the dozenth time. "I hate being in this suit. It's so uncomfortable."

"Your suit's uncomfortable?" you ask with a raised eyebrow, rattling the heavy chains you're still in. 

"I talked them out of the straitjacket if that makes you feel better."

"I know it shouldn't, but it kinda does."

It's well into hour two when you hear footsteps outside the doorway. The two of you sit up straight when you hear the doorknob jingle.

And in walked Nick Fury. For a moment, his eyes flicker to the two of you. And with the slightest of nods and smile, he tells you everything you need to know. You'd called them on their bluff, they didn't even reconvene to tell you that you were going back to New York with Sam.

Another guard walked in behind him and one by one took off all the heavy shackles and restraints. As the guard walked out, you smiled gleefully, throwing your arms around Nick. He briefly returned the embrace and told you he'd see you back at the Compound. 

"I'm sorry," Sam sighs as Nick walks out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. 

You turn away from the door and back to Sam, relishing in the feeling of being unrestrained for the first time in days. "You're sorry, for what? We did it! I can go home."

He nods with a small, apologetic smile. "But I should've told you in the first place."

You smile at him and nod- he's right, he should've told you. But how could you possibly be mad after everything that he'd done for you, things you didn't even know up until today. You can't, you decide. Not really- but maybe just a little. If only for breaking rule number one. Then you punch him in the shoulder as hard as you can.

"Ow?" he enunciates, rubbing at his shoulder.

"That was for lying to me," you huff. And in the next moment, you throw your arms around him, "And this is for being my incredibly overprotective, overbearing brother."

He smiles and nods as he pulls away from you. "Now let's get out of here, it's smells like bitter government officials and dust in here."

You nod in agreement, excited to be going back home. Back to the people you loved. To your family. 

Bucky stands up from the bench outside the makeshift court room as soon as he sees you walking down the hall.

It pissed him off to no end that they shackled you down like some super-villain, he hated the sight of your neck and wrists shackled like you were some unhinged criminal. He knew they didn't see it, but the way they treated you rivaled the way HYDRA treated him. But now you were walking down the hall without a single restraint.

He, Steve, and Tony all sat there waiting to hear something, anything. They'd been anxiously waiting with bated breath for over two hours, and suddenly you were just there, walking down the hall with Sam like you didn't have a care in the world.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the mirage he'd evidently created in his head out of desperation. 

He violently rubs his eyes, only to open them and see that you're still there, walking down the hallway. Back to him. 

"Doll?" he calls, briskly jogging down the hall trying to figure out what's going on, desperately trying not to get his hopes up.

He faltered just about a foot in front of you, he couldn't touch you, he couldn't pull you into his arms if you were just going to be taken away again. His hands shook from all of the pining in anticipation and desperately waiting, but he keeps his arms firmly planted at his sides anyway.  He can hardly pay attention to anything but you as Sam explains the situation.

Releasing, New York, Compound...and then asset.

God, he hated that word. Loathed it. 

"Basically, we did it!" you exclaim, wrapping your arms around Bucky's waist. "It's over," you repeat. "Sam's back as my handler and I get to back to New York."

"It's not," he sighs into the top of your head. He breathes a sigh of relief that you're right there in front of him, but you're no better off than when you first started. "You're still an asset, you're still under SHIELD's thumb." 

"Maybe," you shrug, mostly because you know he's right, but the glimmer of hope and endless possibility was once again on the horizon. As you pull away from his embrace, you optimistically smile up at him, "But I get to go back home. That's enough for me for now."

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 6

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1970

Summary: The High Lord’s meeting.

It was by sheer bad luck that you were sitting next to your cousin when Beron and family strode into the gathering of High Lords. It was by even worse luck that Eris had his sleeves rolled up, inadvertently revealing the bargain marks that so perfectly matched yours. You could see realization dawn on each of your friends’ faces even as his family remained perfectly oblivious. You hoped with every fiber of your being that they didn’t think you’d struck a deal with him willy-nilly, even more so that you didn’t make a deal about Mor.

Rhys, if you can hear me, let me explain before you jump to conclusions.

Judging from the almost simultaneous crinkle of their noses, Rhysand and Feyre seemed to notice the scent of your bond with Eris. 

Well, at least they won’t think something worse I guess.

Nesta just raised an eyebrow.

Doesn’t matter. We don’t get along anyway.

Mor’s eyes just flitted between you and your mate, growing wider and wider in horror.

Please don’t hate me.

Cassian and Azriel, though, were the worst with their twin expressions of disgust that they didn’t even attempt to hide. 

And there goes life as I knew it . . .

Then your eyes strayed to Eris himself. The first time seeing your mate in over fifty years, and it’s like this, under these circumstances. You would not cry in front of these people, you swore to yourself. You wouldn’t. Though Cassian’s accusing scoff of, “Just tattoos, huh?” What’d you sell to him, your soul?” damn near made the tears fall despite yourself.

You studied Eris instead of acknowledging your (former?) friend, noticing the struggle etched into his face that made it look as if he wanted nothing more than to hold you.

Rhysand’s voice flitted through your mind, “So that explains why I thought I smelled you in that meeting with Keir . . .” Nothing more. Such a neutral statement that gave you no hints as to what he was thinking.

It was Feyre that reached over, across Rhys, to touch the hand you had clenching the arm of your chair. Her eyes spoke of someone who knew what it was like to have a mate that was hated and to be forced away from them. If anyone in the world would understand what you were currently suffering through, it was her. “Go to him,” she ordered softly. “We’ll sort out the rest later.”

As soon as you were on your feet, Eris was moving--family be damned, apparently--towards you. You met in that undefined no man’s land between the people of the Autumn Court and the rest of the High Lords. In an instant, you were hauled up into a desperate kiss--audience be damned this time. His hair was cut short, you noticed when you went to grab a fistful. You wondered when, exactly, he’d done it and why.

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron demanded.

When Eris pulled away slightly, you opened your eyes to see that his were still squeezed closed and his jaw was clenched.

“Well?”

Eris’s jaw twitched again, to the point you were worried about his teeth cracking under the strain. You leaned up on your toes, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips while sending soothing feelings across your bond.

“They seem to be mate,” Rhys announced as your returned your weight to your heels, and you could just hear the cocky smirk on his face like he’d known the entire time.

“Be that as it may,” Helion spoke up, reminding the group that there were, in fact, others present beyond the Night and Autumn Courts, “we have more important matters to discuss today.”

Eris reached up to grasp one of your hands so he could kiss your knuckles before parting.

The meeting continued relatively smoothly after that, despite how tense the situation with Tamlin was or the curious/awkward/angry glances people were shooting at you and Eris. It wasn’t until you were in the suite provided for the Night Court that anyone even brought up the topic that left such a stain on the atmosphere. When they did, you couldn’t help but think about how Eris was probably going through the same and worse at the hands of his father wherever he and his family had disappeared to. The sharp pings of anxiety and pain that were slipping through the bond only made you worry more, fingers tracing over the black bands instinctively.

“How long?” Cassian demanded as Azriel vanished with Mor, neither sparing you so much as a parting glance.

You shifted your wings nervously, and your hand fell away from the tattoo, not wanting to draw even more attention to them. “Remember that first ball I went to in Spring when you all wanted me to play spy?”

He snarled as he turned and punched a nearby column, thankfully not doing much damage to the thing.

“Now, now, don’t destroy this place,” Rhys teased though you could still hear the strain in his voice and see it in the way his mouth was pinched at the corners. To you, he asked, “Why did you never tell anyone?” Tell me? he added in your head, clearly hurt.

You scoffed, arms moving to curl around your middle. Your wings were starting to cramp with how hard you had them squeezed against your back. “Can you imagine how his father would have taken that?”

“Doesn’t explain why you never told us!” Cassian shouted.

Wow, having your closest friend turn on you hurt more than you could have imagined. Still, you snapped at him, not wanting to back down. You’d earned your place, Cauldron damn it, and it wasn’t by being cowed every time a male raised his voice. “Don’t you think I wanted to?!” Now, you were toe-to-toe with the feared general. “At first I kept quiet because I was a fucking slave and an Illyrian and he was a fucking heir to one of the courts! And he was betrothed to my friend and I didn’t even know if it would go anywhere! And then--”

“And then Mor happened,” Feyre realized, “and you couldn’t because how could you tell your family that you loved a monster?”

On some level, you knew that she could relate because Rhys had a similar reputation; she had to, in order to put it into words that succinctly. Against your better judgment, you argued, “He’s not a monster.”

Cassian scoffed.

“He’s not!” Your head whirled back to his, hand whipping out to shove him back even just a step. “So only Rhys is allowed to have that sort of façade?! Eris was trying!” You knew you were broadcasting your anger in a way that was likely overwhelming to Feyre and Rhysand, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. “You heard it from his own lips; breaking off that engagement was all he could do for her. There wasn’t time for a better plan. Not when the one he’d been working on before got blown to smithereens!”

“So you’re going to blame her?!” Cassian’s fist clenched in a way that made your stomach do the same. 

“No!” you shrieked. “Cauldron, no.” The mere thought of it brought tears to your eyes yet again. “Do I wish we’d both been more open and talked about this shit before that happened? Yes. Do I wish Eris and I had come up with a plan sooner? Absolutely. Would I ever blame her for the shit she went through? Never.” You looked at the ceiling in an attempt to blink back your tears. “She was my best friend, and I have barely been able to look her in the eye for five hundred years because of something that could have been solved easily if not for the backwards beliefs of others. You cannot imagine what it’s been like all this time. You just can’t.”

Fere seemed to notice something based on the gasp that slipped past her lips and the worried look she leveled you with. “When was the last time you saw him before today?”

Your wings shifted nervously, a tell you’d been trying to rid yourself of ever since Rhysand pointed out in your youth. Again, your hand moved to touch one of the black bands; however, that was a consions, self-calming action. “We said our vows while Amarantha was stealing the High Lords’ powers,” you admitted aloud for the first time. It felt even more horrible than any time you’d thought those words to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhysand’s fists clench. Even Cassian seemed taken aback by the admission. “It was too dangerous to meet after that.”

“So tonight . . .” Cassian’s voice was much calmer now, as if he was starting to understand your side. He was, after all, your closest friend even if he was pissed at you.

“Was the first time I’ve spoken to or even laid eyes on my husband in over fifty years.”

Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a look that told you everything you needed to know about whatever mental conversation they were having. No doubt, they were discussing how horrible that sort of separation from a mate would be, especially after the taste they’d gotten when she was recently undercover in Spring.

“Don’t mistake what I say next for forgiveness or finality,” Rhys said after they looked away from each other once more, “because there’s clearly a lot we need to discuss as a group and as a family.” The spark of anger in his eye, something so rarely directed towards you, made you shrink in on yourself a little. His voice slithered into your mind through the little passageway in the mental wall you kept open just for him, Especially the fact that you think of yourself as less than him because of what you are. “But he will be allowed here tonight without any harm coming to him. Just stay in your room to spare Mor and Az.”

“His father won’t let him out of his sight, Rhys. Not after this.” He’ll be lucky to make it out without blood being spilled.

He lifted a brow as if to say, “Oh, really?” as he strode over to open the door to dramatically reveal Eris Vanserra posed on the other side as if to knock. His violet eyes turned icy as he gave your mate a once-over. “From the sound of it, I’m about five hundred years to late, but if you ever hurt her--”

“You’ll let your dog finish what he started,” Eris interrupted. “I’m aware.” His gaze was locked onto yours as he spoke, and you could feel the shared urge to have your arms wrapped around the other. You could read the tension in his stance, the way he was holding himself revealing that he was in pain as well as worried about you. He was wearing a different shirt, this one with the sleeves fully covering his tattoos. None of this boded well for what he’d been enduring while you were fighting with your friends and family.

Rhys made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, oblivious to the observations you’d been making. “Traded one of my cousins for the other. Just destined to be part of the family aren’t you, Vanserra?” He waved off whatever Eris was about to argue, ignored the golden flames that shone in his eyes. “Just go. Enjoy the time you have together before the world goes to shit. Again.”

Immediately, you stepped away from Cassian, who you were still close enough to feel the heat off his body because of the arguing mere minutes (had it been only minutes?) before, so you could grasp Eris’s hand and lead him to your room.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 5 - 33

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Content warning: self-hatred, death threats, discussion of death, gun

~

“Isaac!” Sam cried hoarsely as he opened the front door.

They came barreling into his arms, burying their head against his chest and squeezing him tight. Isaac’s eyes pricked with tears as he wrapped his arms around them and pressed a kiss to the crown of their head. He released them a moment later. He could barely breathe. His blood pulsed beneath his skin, his heart pounding in his chest, every nerve throbbing.

Tomorrow.

I’m going to get him back tomorrow.

Isaac looked up at the others, all crowded into the kitchen. Finn and Ellis had their arms wrapped tightly around each other, huddled in the corner, their faces pale. Vera stood beside Tori. Her mouth was set, her gaze steady on Isaac as he walked in, tucking Sam beneath his arm. Edrissa shifted her eyes away, standing on the opposite end of the kitchen as Zachariah. Zachariah’s face was haggard. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the month and a half since he’d reached the family. Deep circles were carved under his eyes, and his hands shook at his sides. Gray stood in the middle of the others, eyes wide and focused on nothing. Isaac thought he saw the glimmer of tears as they blinked and looked up at him.

“Um… h-haven’t made the call yet?” Isaac croaked.

“No,” Gray said weakly. “Wanted to… w-wait on you.”

Isaac’s throat tightened as he glanced around at the others. Every second they waited, Gavin suffered. Every inch of Isaac’s body ached with terror, with the unending pulse of hatred that burned through him with each heartbeat: my fault. My fault. My fault.

“L-let’s get it done, then,” he rasped. He felt like he would jump out of his skin if he had to wait another moment. His hand twitched for the gun he had tucked in his waistband. Vera’s eyes caught the motion. Her mouth twisted.

Silently, Gray pulled the cell phone out of their pocket and flipped it open. They hit redial and put the phone on speaker. They held the phone out in the middle of the group. It trembled in their hand.

It rang once. Twice.

There was a muffled clatter on the other end, and a harried voice sounding slightly out of breath answered. “Hello?”

The voice was unfamiliar, but it still sent a chill down Isaac’s spine. This was the firefighter that was going to walk into the town hall tomorrow and lead Isaac to Gavin. This person was going to help save Gavin tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

The possibility of failure didn’t even cross his mind. Gavin was at the town hall; Isaac knew it with every fiber of his being. He was going to save him. The only way he was not going to have Gavin in his arms tomorrow night was if he was no longer breathing.

“H-hello, Vanya,” Gray said with a shaking voice. “The whole gang is here. You’re on speaker.”

“Good, good,” Vanya said distractedly. A shuffling sound. “Sorry, I’m trying to get somewhere where I can talk.”

“Take your time,” Gray said breathlessly.

There was the whisper of movement, the distant sound of a door closing. Vanya’s voice seemed more muffled than before. “Alright, I can talk. Let’s, uh… let’s go over things.”

“What’s the plan?” Isaac said, unable to keep silent any longer. He bit his lip and clutched Sam tighter. They leaned against him and squeezed him back.

“Well first I… I’m, um, sorry for the short notice. This was the soonest I could schedule it and I felt like you’d want to—”

“Yes,” Isaac choked. “Y-yes.”

There was a deep breath over the line. “Okay. Okay. Good. So here’s my plan, the way I have it: I’m going to go to the town hall tomorrow to do a simple fire inspection. I’ve done half the town by now, and the town hall is right in line with the pattern I’ve been taking from east to west. There’s no reason for Schiester to suspect I’m doing anything out of the ordinary.”

Isaac nodded as Vanya spoke. His skin felt like it was buzzing.

Vanya continued. “I’m not going to do a complete fire inspection, because honestly, that would be a waste of time. That building is old enough that it might not even have a fire suppression system. But it’ll probably have an alarm system. There will be a room with an alarm panel that I can check. Sometimes there will even be a premise map that’ll give a detailed map of every floor… but I doubt it.”

“If DFS has been keeping captives in the basement, I doubt he’d leave a map up,” Vera said harshly.

Isaac huffed out a breath. Come on, come on…

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway. There will be an alarm panel that will probably give me a good idea of how many floors there are. We have to consider the fact that there might be more than one underground floor.”

Isaac’s breath rushed out of him. He hadn’t considered—

“Isaac, this is where you come in,” Vanya said.

Isaac’s body went rigid. Ice crawled into his veins. “Y-yeah?”

“I’m assuming you’re going to be the one going in after him, based on what I talked about with Gr—”

“Yes,” Isaac snapped. His arm tightened around Sam. “I’m going in.”

“Good. Okay. Well, if there are any floors that show up on a premise map or on the alarm panel that the mayor won’t let me access, I figure there’s a pretty good chance that’s where to search. So… once I get a good idea of where Gavin is being kept—”

Isaac sucked in a breath. To hear someone else say Gavin’s name, someone Isaac didn’t know and couldn’t be sure he could trust, made his skin itch.

“—I’m going to get a message out to you. A call or text, probably, so I can send details. But I’ll figure it out. If there is a premise map, I can even give you turn by turn instructions.”

“I’ll find a way in,” Isaac said darkly. “I will.”

“Okay. Well… that’s where my part ends, I guess. I can really only get you the info on whether or not he’s there.”

“He’s there,” Isaac ground out through his teeth. “He has to be there.”

There was a long pause over the line. Then, “Yeah. It would make sense.”

Gray cleared their throat. “At that point, I’ll already be there with the car for my shift like normal. I’ll help Isaac and Gavin to the car.”

Isaac met Gray’s gaze and chewed his lip. Gray’s eyes shone with tears. Their face hardened into a look of agonized determination. Isaac blinked as he realized there were dried tear tracks on their cheeks. He swallowed hard and looked again at the phone in Gray’s hand.

“I’ll be waiting in the car,” Finn said. Their voice broke. “With my, um… med kit.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Then Vanya said, “I’m still working on gathering supplies for making a functioning fire department with… maybe a transporting ambulance soon. What are you planning on taking? I… You’re welcome to whatever I have.”

Finn’s throat bobbed as they swallowed. “Basic trauma stuff,” they said in a monotone. “Suture kits, tourniquets, trauma dressings, ten-gages, SAM splints, then…” They counted off on their fingers. “Fentanyl, ketamine, fluids, dextrose, epi, IV and IO kit, benzos, blankets and heat packs, vital signs stuff, my, um, airway kit w-with the surgical cric kit…” They shuddered, their face going paler by the second. “I’m thinking about packing some IV antibiotics just in case… Let me think, um…” They wet their lips. “Should I pack anything else?” they said in a quavering voice.

There was the uneasy sound of Vanya clearing their throat. “Um… not anything I can think of. That was, um… a lot more than I thought you’d be packing. I… if you need all that…” They fell silent. “Um… d-do you… have a hospital in mind if he, um… needs that?”

“No hospitals,” Finn said dully. “Whatever is wrong is something that… I n-need to fix.”

Isaac raised his head to look at them. His heart sank at the look of overwhelm overshadowed by flat determination on their face.

They feel as responsible for them as I do, just… different. He felt a swell of gratitude in his chest that threatened to choke him.

“Well… alright,” Vanya said softly. “If you need a restock before you head north again… just let me know. I’ll do my best to get supplies to you.”

“Thank you,” Finn said brokenly. Their eyes filled with tears. Ellis clutched their arm and they hugged Ellis tightly.

“We can’t bring too many people,” Vera said, her eyes unfocused. “Otherwise I would… I… would go.” She nodded slowly and looked up at Isaac. “You know I—”

“I know,” he said gruffly. He shivered like a chill had just gone through him. Sweat prickled under his shirt. “That means that… I… should probably be down there already when Gray arrives.” He rubbed his wrist against his hip, barely feeling the scrape of his belt against the scars that itched there. “I’ll head back into town after this, get a ride south. I’ll make sure no one sees or follows.”

“Where will you stay?” Vera said softly.

“In a fucking tent,” Isaac snapped. “On the sidewalk. In a dumpster. I don’t care. I’ll figure it out.” Before the words were fully out, Isaac ducked his head. He looked up at Vera beneath his lashes, already shrinking with shame.

A muscle ticked in Vera’s jaw. She stood perfectly still beside Tori, looking at Isaac evenly.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispered. “I… I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Vera said, and Isaac raised his head again. “I’m just… trying to work out the details.”

“I would offer my place, but… we really shouldn’t risk you being seen with me,” Vanya said, sounding apologetic.

“I could ask Mathias,” Isaac said. “He might say yes.”

“We’ll figure it out as soon as we hang up with you, Vanya,” Gray said. For the first time since Isaac had left to search the north, Gray sounded… not quite hopeful, but like there was a little bit of life in their voice again. Their fingers were white where they clutched the phone. “Thank you, Vanya. Truly. I… can’t express how grateful I am for your help. How grateful we all are.”

“Y-yeah,” Isaac croaked. “Thank you.”

The others all murmured their thank yous. Even Edrissa, speaking for the first time. She still leaned away from Isaac, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Well… I’ll, um, get going. If you need anything, call me back on this number. Also, the inspection is scheduled for ten AM, so…”

“I’ll be there,” Isaac said with iron in his voice. His hand itched to hold his gun.

“Okay. Well… good, um, good luck, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or not, maybe. Either way…”

“Good luck,” Gray rasped.

“Yeah,” Vanya mumbled. “Alright… take care.”

The line went dead.

Isaac let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He rocked forward, his arm squeezing even tighter around Sam’s shoulders, his eyes burning with tears. His heart felt like it would leap from his chest.

Tomorrow. Ten AM. Tomorrow.

His hands felt numb. He swiped at the tears running down his cheeks and into his beard. He felt something shift inside him, like something was about to snap. Blood pounded in his ears.

“Something we have yet to discuss in detail,” Gray said softly, “Is that… once we… have Gavin, Schiester will most likely come after us.”

“Let him fucking come,” Isaac growled. “I’ll rip that motherfucker’s head from his fucking—”

“If we kill him,” Gray said gently, “We risk facing the anger of the entire north.”

“If we kill Schiester, then we tell the entire fucking north what he’s been doing to kids and innocent people with shit fucking luck when they come through Crayton,” Isaac spat back. Edrissa drew away from Isaac, closer to Tori’s side. Tori’s hand went to her shoulder and stroked back and forth, soothing.

Gray was silent for a moment. Then, they murmured, “We could do that anyway.”

Isaac froze mid-breath, rage crawling under his skin, solidifying into something like vicious hope. “Y-yeah?” he croaked.

Gray shrugged jerkily as they slid the phone back into their pocket. “Even if he took those pictures down, they’re probably still in his office. If I see an opportunity – Gavin is the priority, he’s the only priority, but if I get the chance – I’ll grab them. Find a way to disseminate them. Those…” Gray’s voice twisted. “Those people… Their families deserve to know what happened to them.”

“But Gavin first,” Isaac said brokenly. “I… I need to get Gavin out first.”

Ellis wet their lips and spoke. “Guys… Hate to be the guy to point this out, but he might not be—”

“He is!” Isaac cried, whirling on them. His arm loosened from around Sam’s shoulders. “He is! He… he has to be there. H-he has to be… alive.” His chest tightened with a sob. “He’s there,” he whispered through numb lips. “He has to be.”

Sam wound their arm around his waist again. Their hand brushed the gun tucked in Isaac’s waistband. They froze and looked up at him, their eyes wide. There was a hint of fear in their gaze. Isaac pushed down the feeling of guilt that rose in him and looked away.

“All the same,” Gray said, holding a placating hand out towards Isaac, “We should pack tonight, and be prepared to move. Regardless of how the plan goes.”

“It’ll work,” Isaac said fiercely.

Gray’s head fell forward. “Regardless,” they continued softly, “We should be ready to move. Finn, Ellis, if you’ll—”

“We’ve been ready to go for weeks,” Ellis said, and shifted their feet. “We never really unpacked. Let’s be honest… we knew this was going to get ugly. But once we have the idiot back…” They shrugged and stared at their shoes. “We can settle in then. Wherever it is we end up.”

Isaac’s throat was tight. “And I should get going,” he murmured. “I need to get back home, find a discreet ride south. I, um… I need to figure that out.”

Sam’s arm tightened around his waist again, and he looked down at them. They stared up at him, tears welling in their eyes. He pulled them close and crushed them to his chest.

“Isaac,” Sam whimpered against his shirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Isaac murmured against their hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, with Gavin. I’ll have him tomorrow.”

Sam shuddered and clutched at him. “I… I know.”

Tears burned in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed their forehead, trying to ignore the tears than ran into their hair. “Love you,” he whispered. Dread ached in his stomach at how much the words sounded like goodbye.

He swayed with them, realizing for the first time how much he’d missed this. He missed his little sibling in his arms, clutched tight. He’d barely seen them at all for the past…

The past thirty-five days.

They sniffled and pulled away. Vera was at his side, and she pulled him into a hug as well. He wound his arms around her waist and nearly lifted her off the floor with how hard he squeezed her.

“We’ll get our boy back,” Vera mumbled, her face pressed against his shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”

Isaac said nothing, only nodded. After a moment, he loosened his hold. She stepped back, and Tori took her place.

They all embraced him, one by one – Gray, Finn, Ellis, Zachariah. Even Edrissa walked up to him and stiffly stuck her hand out for him to shake. He could feel her fingers trembling. He kept his gaze down and bowed his head apologetically, only too aware of the rage that boiled inside him, just beneath the surface. When she drew back, she wiped her hand on her skirt.

When he turned to leave, Gray held out the phone. “Take this,” they said. “In case we need to contact you.”

Isaac tucked it into his pocket. “Sure thing.” His voice was hoarse. “I just need to grab some things.”

He turned and walked down the hall to the bedrooms. When he stopped in front of the room he’d shared with Gavin, his stomach dropped. He placed his hand on the doorknob. It was cool under his fingers. He drew in a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

His breath caught in his chest. It was exactly the same as he’d left it, the morning he’d discovered Gavin had been taken while he slept. The bedspread was rumpled, the drawer of Gavin’s nightstand still slightly open. The curtain was drawn, but the last rays of the afternoon sun lit the purple fabric, casting the room in a strange, dim light. As he caught his breath again, he was nearly brought to his knees; he could just barely catch a hint of Gavin’s scent still in the room.

Isaac forced down his tears, forced down the way his hands shook, the way he wanted to collapse to the floor and sob his heart out. He went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He took only the knife that lay tucked along the side, the handle sticking out from under a pair of pants. He strapped the sheath to his belt and turned to go to the bed.

He didn’t even have to look as he reached for the knife he had tucked between the mattress and the bedframe all those weeks ago, so that when the time came to protect Gavin from the threat he’d known, somehow, was coming – he could. His fingers wrapped around it and it felt dull in his hands. Heavy. Useless.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

He shoved the thought away and straightened up.

As he walked through to the front of the house again, he looked at his family, still all gathered in the kitchen, huddling together as if for warmth. Tears moved silently down Gray’s face, now. Isaac bit down on his tongue, holding back his own.

“I’ll see you all… tomorrow,” he said, feeling the weight of the gun against his lower back.

“See you,” Vera murmured.

“I’ll call you with any updates,” Gray said, wiping their face on their shirt.

“L-love you, Isaac,” Sam said softly.

“Love you, too,” Isaac croaked. He turned to go. His hand curled around his knife as he pushed open the door and walked out into the golden afternoon sun.

Continued here

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[willow-tree-writes]

❀Lay Off❀

Harry Potter x Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Y/N often gets mad fun of, just because of the house she belongs to. Harry, her new boyfriend, gets fed up one day and confronts the bully.

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: I don’t mean any Hufflepuff hate for this fic! I am a proud Hufflepuff, and wrote it cause I feel a lot of people really do hate on them. But anyways, I hope you enjoy it! (I don’t think this is my best work, but here it is anyways.)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: British Cursing, Bullying, Fluff

!I don’t own this gif!

“Miss L/N, have you finished yet?” Snape asked, only interested in finally ending his class. It would have been just about over 10 minutes ago, if you had turned in your paper and didn’t zone out.

You snapped out of your thoughts, blushing with embarrassment. “Yes, of course, Professor.” You grabbed your paper and stood up, walking it over to him.

You could hear a couple Slytherins snickering. They made you want to shrink to the size of an ant. Which is something they probably would love to do to you.

Snape took the paper from you, quite aggressively you might add. “Now that I have all your essays, you may be dismissed.”

You went back to your table, collecting all your papers, books, and quill.

Draco Malfoy’s voice loudly made its way over to you. “Finally. I’m not surprised we had to wait for some Hufflepuff.” His pals laughed along with him.

You just shook your head to yourself and quickly rushed to the hallways.

“Y/N!” A voice called out from behind you. You slowed down to see Harry and Hermione heading your way.

You bit your lip slightly, holding your books close to your chest. “Sorry about keeping up the class.” She muttered, Draco’s words ringing in her head.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s quite alright. Ron would have done it if he could wake up on time for some classes.”

You gave them a small smile, not being able to muster up anything more. “Well, I have to get to Charms. I’ll see you guys later.” You waved a little before turning and walking away. 

You heard two sets of footprints, but only one was getting quieter. The other one landed right next to you. “Hey, Y/N.”

You looked to see Harry walking beside you. “Hi, Harry. Is something a matter?” You tilted your head a little. You knew he was supposed to be going to class with Hermione, so you didn’t understand why he was going with you.

He shook his head. “No, no. I just wanted to know what you were doing after class?”

You thought for a moment. “Well, we have study hall next… And Oscar needs me to help him out with a potion… Oh, and I need to finish my paper for Transfigurations, or else Professor McGonagall will have my head…” She rambled on, tapping her books lightly. “But after all that I should be free.” You didn’t realize you were looking down as you spoke, so you quickly looked up at Harry.

He chuckled a little. He always found your rambling quite cute, which was something you couldn’t figure out. “Well, after you finish all that, I’ll be Hermione and Ron. Come get me, I have something I want to show you.”

You smiled, a genuine soft smile. “I can’t wait.”

Harry and you had been dating for a couple months now. While it was a little awkward at first, you two slowly became more comfortable around one another.

He kissed your cheek before turning around and walking to his class. You watched him for a moment before rushing off to class.

----

You smiled as you finished your paper, slipping it into the cover of one of your books. You then collected your books and stood up.

Oscar sat in the spot that was next to you. “Going to see your Gryffindor?”

You rolled your eyes a little with a giggle. “I’ll see you later, Osc.”

You started to make your way over to the Gryffindor table when your favorite Slytherin stepped right in front of you.

“Going somewhere, L/N?” 

You sigh a little and try to step around him, but his goons basically surround you. “Please just leave me alone, Draco.”

He laughed. “Aren’t Hufflepuffs supposed to be kind and caring?” He asked in a mocking tone.

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he just cuts you off. “No, sorry. I’m wrong. Hufflepuffs are just the kids who aren’t any special. They’re the house of rejects.”

That hit you kind of hard. Sure, you weren’t the smartest, or bravest, or most cunning, but you were still a good person. At least you tried to be 99% of the time. You didn’t feel like a reject.

“What? Is the little puppy sad?” He laughed. You didn’t realize it until he spoke, but you were on the verge of tears.

Harry came up behind Draco and turned him around. “What do you think you're doing?”

The only thing you heard was him say, “Potter,” before you quickly made your leave. You didn’t want Harry to see how much the Slytherin’s words got to you.

You ducked into the girls bathroom and quickly hid in a stall. You sat on the toilet with your head in your hands, crying.

----

Avoiding Harry was like a child without a cute smile on their face - impossible.

You had a few classes with him, so you made sure for the rest of the day to arrive right before it started and leave as soon as you could. You were surprised at how successful you were. Until now.

It was study hall, again, the time you were dreading. You didn’t know how you were going to avoid him now.

You sat at your house table, keeping your head down and praying with every fiber in your body he didn’t notice you. But what good is praying when you’re up against the Chosen One?

You were reading about a potion you were to do tomorrow in class when a presence sat down beside you. You, at first, thought it might have been Oscar; but when the presence didn’t say anything, you knew he was waiting for you to look at him. Harry was waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.

You just kept reading, pretending like you didn’t know he was there.

“Y/N.” Harry starts, his eyes trained on you.

You shake your head, stopping him. “I don’t want to talk about it, Harry.” You were quiet, but loud enough for just him to hear.

“Well I do.” He sounded as if he was fed up. You didn’t blame him. “How long has he been doing that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble, knowing full well that was a lie.

He groaned. “Bloody hell, Y/N. I may not be Ravenclaw, but I’m not stupid.”

The mention of another house made you a little upset. “Sorry I’m not a good judge of character, like one. Or as brave as a Gryffindor to say how I feel. Or as cunning as a Slytherin to hide how I feel. I’m just a bloody Hufflepuff. The only good I do is when something’s wrong with someone else.” You went off. You didn’t mean to go off on Harry, but you couldn’t hold back.

He was completely baffled and caught off guard.

A chuckle was heard from behind, and the two of them turned to see Draco. “Looks like the Snuffleduff finally cracked.”

Harry threw a scold his way. “Shut it, Malfoy.”

You stood and started to gather your books. You couldn’t deal with this again.

He stood up beside you, turning to Draco. “Weren’t you ever raised to hold your tongue?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Potter. At least I was actually raised.”

“Watch it.” 

“Or else what?” Draco pushed. “You’re gonna sick your Hufflepuff girlfriend on me? I’m so scared.”

You took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Just leave us alone, Draco.” You were never one to stand up for yourself. But right now, you felt like you were also standing up for Harry.

He chuckled, crossing his arms. “Turning a bitter, are we?”

Harry took a step forward, pushing Draco back a little. “You’re going to have to deal with a lot more than bitterness if you keep this up. So lay off.”

Draco scoffed, pushing Harry back. “Don’t try to sound like my father. Why would anyone ever even listen to you? Especially when you slum it with Hogwarts’ rejects.”

Harry took out his wand and pointed it at him. “Keep running your mouth, Malfoy. I dare you.”

Draco followed his movements. “You better watch who you challenge.”

It was obvious he was about to cast a spell when Snape came up between the two boys, grabbing their heads. “Cut this nonsense out, before I put you both in detention.” He forcibly made the boys look away from each other before pushing them away and walking away just as quick as he came.

Harry sighed and shook his head, fixing his hair a little.

You took his hand without a word, pulling him out of the room. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, but still followed you.

You took him out into the hall before going out to the courtyard. No one was there at this time, which was a little surprising. You were relieved by it, cause then you didn’t need to go around searching for an empty place.

You sat down on one of the benches, and Harry sat right beside you. He looked at you expectantly, which made you a little nervous suddenly.

Fidgeting with the sleeves of your robes, you looked down at your lap. “Thank you…”

“How long has he been saying those things?” He repeats his question from before.

You sigh and shrug. “I don’t know. Since we became friends, maybe?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was kind of upset. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shrugging was a friend of yours. “Why tattle about something that’s true?”

He shook his head, putting a hand under your chin and making you look at him. “That’s not the truth, okay? Nothing about what he says is even close. You are one of the most brilliant girls I’ve ever met. You're genuine and amazing in your own way.”

You felt yourself start to blush. “You’re just saying that…”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head again, holding your hands. “There is not a single other girl I can imagine spending my time with than you.”

You smile, letting yourself finally listen to his words. “I don’t think Hermione would like you saying that.” You said with a giggle.

Harry smiled, happy he finally got through to you. “Then let’s not tell her.”

He started to lean in, and you followed suit. When your lips met, you relaxed fully. You might have been dating for a little while, but this was the first time you ever kissed.

The bliss and pure joy that erupted from it made it clear to you that you would go to war for this boy, and he would go to war for you.

[phantom-curve]

did I shatter you? pt. 2

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

It was him. There was no denying those overgrown brown locks peeking out from his favorite orange beanie or the ocean within his eyes. His feet skipped a beat at the sound of his name, head raising to stare at her with the pain of a thousand heartaches lurking behind his cloudy gaze. Her chest burned. Both of them in so much pain, so close, and yet still unable to cross the chasm that had opened between them. They stared at each other for a long moment, the snow dampened silence spinning out between them. Luke’s face was pale, his eyes bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep she couldn’t possibly know anymore. He sniffed, raising his arm to wipe at his nose with the back of his overlarge flannel sleeve. So, crying it was. Julie felt like she was staring at a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

They spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping in a sloppy mess of harmonies they hadn’t practiced in too long. Julie’s heart stuttered at the sound of Luke’s low vibrato. He stared at her as if she was the answer to a prayer he hadn’t known he’d been asking for. Electricity sparked between them, bodies drawing closer together without conscious thought from either one. Julie hadn’t been this close to him for a year. His hair was longer, even more unruly than it had been in the years they’d been together. His face looked tired; brows heavy with the weight of whatever battles he had been fighting alone. Always alone now. Her fingertips itched with the desire to reach up and stroke his cheek. She didn’t have that kind of unspoken permission anymore.

She turned on her heel without a word, soundlessly making her way back to the very same bench she had just vacated. Her steps were sure, no hesitation to wait and see if he would follow. She knew he would. His quiet steps provided the only other noise in the frigid air. They didn’t touch as they each took a seat on the farthest corners of the bench. It was an unspoken agreement to keep that space between them. They needed a buffer zone for this conversation. Julie fidgeted with her necklaces; fingers tucked underneath a chunky knit scarf so they would stay far away from Luke’s body. She watched him tuck his own hands underneath his thighs. At least the feeling was mutual.

Snow accumulated around them in pristine, white piles. Julie watched it gradually stack on her knees, shivered underneath the wetness of slowly melting flakes in her hair. She would be damned if she broke this silence. Luke had come here. He knew how much it had always meant to her and he had come here, on a December day so close to the one she hated most. He could speak first. It only took a few minutes longer for him to break.

“I’ve missed you.”

Three simple little words, yet they cut through her like a finely sharpened blade. She sucked in an icy breath, bracing herself against the burn in her chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Her words were low, barely an octave above a growl. She stared at him head on, saw him flinch away from the raw emotion in her eyes.

“You chose to leave. You didn’t want to listen to anything I had to say. You left before I could even try to stop you. You don’t get to miss me.”

Her voice had grown stronger with each pointed statement. It was true that Luke had chosen to cut and run instead of stick around and fight for her. But it was also true that she hadn’t chased him down. She had accepted the end of their relationship in silence, too tired at that point to care enough to fight back. She was writing a revisionist history here, and she could tell by the way his eyes blazed that he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He angled his body towards hers, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. Probably so he couldn’t get overworked with hand gestures that she would tease him about.

“You didn’t try to stop me. You never tried. Just let Andi reach out with tour negotiations and recording schedules so you could avoid me at all costs while we fell apart! How the hell was I supposed to talk to you without a middleman? You know I hate sending messages through other people.”

“How else was I supposed to talk to you, Luke?” His entire body shivered at the sound of his name leaving her lips. “You barely came home anymore. The only time I really saw you was at the studio and I was tired of trying to communicate with you through song lyrics. Couples should be able to talk to each other!”

“Oh, like you ‘talked’ to Nick?” He scoffed.

“Jesus Christ, not this shit again. Those tabloid photos were taken from the worst possible angle and there was absolutely no kissing involved, but even if there was, what do you care? I kiss Reggie and Alex on the cheek all the time. Why shouldn’t I kiss an old friend like Nick on the cheek? Just because you said not to? When have you ever not done something just because I asked?”

“That’s different! Reggie and Alex respect you, they respect us! Nick was always just waiting in the wings for me to fuck up so he could swoop in.”

Julie let out a humorless chuckle and shot to her feet, unable to keep the frustrated, restless energy out of her legs as she paced back and forth in front of the bench. Luke stayed seated, but his body was vibrating with tension. She could see the strain in his neck as he fought to keep himself in check.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Nick has never done anything but respect us, and he hasn’t been waiting around for anything! You did just fine burning our relationship to the ground on your own. Don’t stand there holding matches and then blame him because he once owned a lighter! Even before we met, Nick was nothing more than a friend. After you...”

She bit her lip to stop the confession. Luke glared and she suddenly couldn’t help herself, the words tumbling out in a desperate whisper.

“After I met you it was over for me. No one else could possibly compare.”

It felt like they were having the exact same fight they had every day leading to their break-up. Luke never confident enough, Julie never willing to shrink herself for the sake of his pride. She had been a fool to think a year apart would change them. It was always like this. All the ways their souls fit so seamlessly, all the ways they connected, were the same things that sabotaged them every time. They would come together in a moment of perfect harmony, and then suddenly the notes and lyrics would sour, and they would be right back at square one.

Luke was constantly fighting to prove himself, pushing harder in the studio, nagging at everyone in the band until every note was perfect. His passion and drive were never-ending. It wasn’t enough for Julie and The Phantoms to be as successful as they were. Nothing could erase the sting of losing Sunset Curve to Bobby right before they were about to make it big. Nothing could erase the way his parents had dismissed his work, refused to help him fight the label Bobby had moved to because they didn’t see a point to it. Julie still remembered how angry Luke had been when she first met him. Ready to fight the entire world and then some.

She had thought working together was softening him, thought that maybe she was healing him. Things had been so good for the first few years after they made it big. Some lightness had returned to him, and the fame they found as a band had given him the exact connection with the world that he had always craved when playing. Julie had thought that would be enough for him. She had thought she would be enough for him. It was far too late when she realized nothing would ever fill that hole in his heart, not even her.

He had kept those wounds hidden, letting them fester and rot until his entire system was corrupted. She couldn’t fight a ghost, and he let the betrayal poison him against her more and more every day. She would never forget the final words he had screamed at her on this exact boardwalk as they fought about why he cared that Bobby was releasing another album. Would never forget the heavy silence that had fallen over the two of them as they landed like a bomb, tearing her apart in an instant. Well maybe if you wrote music worth stealing you would understand! She had felt their connection snap in that moment, had known with every fiber of her being that it was the end then.

She had left New York that same day. Escaped back to LA and their house in the hills to wait for him, but he never returned to her. It had been the last time she saw him until this exact moment. Julie had dropped The Phantoms from her name and pretended it didn’t feel like she had cut off one of her limbs in the process. She nearly sold her soul to the label reworking her contract into that of a solo artist, and the press had a field day with the breakup since no one would talk about it. Reggie and Alex had come by to collect Luke’s things. The three of them still got together every week they were in town at the same time, but it wasn’t the same. The empty fourth chair at their brunch table always felt haunted.

Luke stared up at her from his position on the bench. Her words had drained the fight right out of him. She watched him crumple, felt her own ire dim. He was deviating from the script now. He was supposed to stand up and yell back at her about how she didn’t understand his pain. He wasn’t supposed to look so defeated already.

“You’re right.”

His confession was a raspy whisper, both words pulled from the deepest part of his soul. She came to a stop in front of him, mouth falling open. He lifted his head, their eyes locking. Tears clung to his lashes.

“It was my fault. I ruined it.”

Her heart flared at his words. He had never before admitted that his attitude had helped lead to their downfall. She felt herself drift towards him, drawn in by the genuine anguish she could see etched into every line of his face. He didn’t reach for her, not even when their knees touched. It was all she could do to stop herself from pulling him close.

“You didn’t deserve that. We didn’t deserve that. I let myself get so worked up over beating Bobby at his own game that I didn’t realize I had already won the better prize.”

Julie felt her breath catch in her throat. She was drowning in the unending depths of his ocean eyes, the pain there just as intense and familiar as her own.

“Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Worse than losing Sunset Curve and my songs. Worse than all the bullshit with my parents. Losing you was like losing myself.”

A muffled sob managed to work its way up and out of her throat. Luke’s hands lifted and clenched before he dropped them back to land on his thighs with a smack that echoed in the frozen air. Still so close and so far away at the exact same time.

“I tried so hard, Luke. Nothing I did was ever enough, and you were so angry all the time.”

Now he did stand, jumping up so fast he nearly knocked her flat on her back. His hands shot out to clasp her forearms. She could feel her skin light on fire under his touch even beneath the layers of winter clothing.

“Not with you, Julie. Never with you.”

She nearly wept to hear him say her name like that again. No frustration or annoyance, just pure affection and adoration. Like her name alone was the highest power he could call to.

“You were the one light in my life. I just didn’t see it until you were gone, and I was alone in the darkness. I’ll never regret anything as much as I regret hurting you.”

Julie let herself fall into him, the soft-spoken words a balm to her ragged soul. His arms raised to tuck her body fully into his, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. It wasn’t everything, wasn’t a full reckoning of their past just yet, but it was a start.

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Little Bad Habits (Dating MC)

– Zen –

Litter. Everywhere. Not permanently, he’s not that much of a slob, he does do chores regularly and stuff. But he just ... tosses his clothes and cigarette wrappers and other things literally everywhere, and leaves it for ‘later’. 

Since he’s so anal about his health, he kinda disrupts your own eating habits by coincidence. Grocery shopping can be a challenge when he’s forbidding all desserts and snacks from the cart even though he’s not gonna be eating any of it.

He's bad with technology, so good luck trying to get him to do stuff like answering emails, or paying bills online, or even using apps like Yelp or Uber. You end up in charge of most software in the house. 

It’s sweet that he texts you with random pickup lines and pictures three times a day, but damn it I keep thinking it’s something important I’m expecting, and instead it’s just one of your bathroom selfies with a heart drawn in the fogged up mirror. 

Zen, can you not have these bad tepid takes like ‘women look better without makeup’, or ‘being the man of the house is the mark of being an adult’, or ‘those who couldn’t work for every penny they’ve had don’t deserve it’? No, Zen, let me pout you’re being an idiot right now.

– Yoosung –

AXE bodywash, AXE bodyspray, AXE shampoo. He uses it because it’s ‘manly’? But god it’s so strong and synthetic-smelling. He needs your help in moving away from this brand. 

He’s also prone to clutter, even more so than Zen. It takes a while before he stops leaving all his laundry on the floor and takes that extra step in hanging it up, or folding it into his dresser. And good luck trying to get him to wash dishes every day, rather than leaving it overnight. 

It’d be nice if you were more enthusiastic about my interests, Yoosung. You may not enjoy visiting Sephora as much as I do, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abandon me at the doorway to hang out at GameStop. 

He does a bunch of these little roommate mistakes like using up all the hot water, or not refilling the Brita, or always leaving the empty toilet paper roll for you. Yoosung, you gotta learn how to live with another person!!

He’ll always be prone to jealousy, which doesn’t cause a problem most days, but if you ever become a fan of some idol or celebrity, be prepared for some pouting, maybe even a cold shoulder or two. He can’t even side-eye the TV like he does catcallers or people on the street, so he’s twice as frustrated. 

– Jaehee –

She’s bad at recycling. She didn’t even do it for a long time, and only started recently. Even now, she’ll toss random plastic bits into either container, paying no mind to whether it’s recyclable or not. She won’t rise milk jugs or tin cans before throwing them away. 

Now that her hair is growing out, she sheds it everywhere. RIP the shower drain, the carpet, the furniture. The two of you gotta invest in rubber mops and lint rollers just for her hair.

She’s a very clean and organized person, except for her makeup, which all sits in a dusty old bag with old leaking bottles getting over everything, brushes and sponges she doesn’t wash, and literally every product is old and expired. And then she kisses you with her lipstick on and causes an acne breakout. 

When she settles down to watch TV while relaxing, she likes to turn her flatscreen up waaayy loud, which is fine unless you’re working on something and the noise is just so distracting. Jaehee, I’m trying to do the books on the cafe, you gotta turn Zen’s musical down!

When she gets colds, she sometimes hides it as long as she can, which makes everyone around her get colds too. She may have been able to avoid a couple of boring sick days, but now you’ve got a sore throat. Thanks, honey, I love you too. 

– Jumin –

He kept calling you in the middle of the day with full expectation that you’d answer every single time, especially during the beginning of the relationship. Jumin, I’ve got my own work. It’s okay if I miss a message or two, I’m not your employee.

He has a physical trainer, dietician, and physician regime that he follows rigorously, and he kinda expected you to do the same even if you didn’t want to. Even now, he brings up a nutrition plan once and a while, even if you are totally not interested in following a food calendar. “It’s for your health, love,” well, Jumin, my health calls for a big bowl of barbecue chips. 

He’s surprisingly clingy in bed. The two of you fall asleep in the middle of the mattress, and by morning you’re hanging on for dear life at the edge of the bed while Jumin is pushing as close to you as humanly possible. More than once you’ve been rudely awakened by falling out of bed and hitting the hard marble floor. 

Jumin, stop entering the bathroom while I’m on the toilet, or in the shower! I close the door for a reason. No it’s not like I wanna avoid you, I just wanna shit in peace

He sometimes makes plans without your input, which works for surprises, but not so much for dinner at the Galaria and he’s already downstairs waiting for you while you’re totally not ready. 

– Saeyoung –

All that Phd. Pepper has to go somewhere, and it tends to escape out of both orifices, so to speak. 

No joke, the boy is gassy. And he teases you with it, like making himself fart right when you decide to sit next to him on the couch just to hear you “EWW!!” and squirm away. You’re lucky you’re cute, 707. 

Even when his work schedule becomes more normal, he still doesn’t keep a regular schedule. He does stretches of days where he stays up until 4am, then he spends the next week sleeping 14 hours a day. It can be hard to spend time with someone who’s either dead tired when you’re awake, or super hyper when you’re about to sleep. 

He’s very particular when it comes to his cars. You can’t eat or drink in them, not even gum. You can’t put your feet anywhere except squarely in the footrests, god forbid you absentmindedly rest them against the dashboard. No picking at the leather, no scratching the carbon fiber, you can pet the soft velvet but you’re on thin ice. 

Saeyoung, can you shower more, please? You smell like old ham and your hair isn’t doing so good either. Yes, I will give you a kiss, but only if you hop in the bathtub right now. 

– Saeran –

Like his brother, his sleeping schedule is wack. He’ll spend several all-nighters and then clonk out for a long while, too tired to do anything. And not because of work, either, he just doesn’t have a good sleep schedule. 

Loves to cook, hates to clean. Leaves all the dirty dishes, pans and pots, and countertops for as long as humanly possible, which means someone else is usually the one stuck cleaning it all up. It gets better when the household arranges duties for everyone so Saeran’s in charge of meals while another cleans up afterwards, but even then it can still get dirty.

Sweats in his sleep, which is further exacerbated by some of his medication. Sleeping next to him means sticky skin and wet bedsheets. He has to wash his pajamas every other day.

You gotta hide your sweets or else Saeran’s gonna steal them. He stress-eats during his worse days, and besides that he’s just got a monster sweet tooth, so he’ll finish his entire pint of ice cream and steals yours, too. Then he finds your hidden package of gingersnap cookies and oops, there goes your snack.

He hates having his hair cut, it’s a weird sensory experience for him and he gets anxious while having to sit still for so long. He won’t go to the salon so he tries to cut it himself, which hogs up the bathroom for two hours and leaves shed hair all over the sink. Once you start helping him, he feels better about the experience.

– Jihyun –

He cannot be trusted with the laundry. He shrinks all the knitwear, keeps forgetting to clean the lint tray, and all his whites are no longer white. You gotta be in charge if you don’t want your wardrobe to end up like his. 

Jihyun, I know you grew up with money but when the toilet is clogged you don’t call the plumber, you take this plunger and try to unclog it yourself with bleach. And no, we don’t need a new refrigerator just because the light bulb burst. 

He’s surprisingly tough to sleep next to in bed. You eventually get used to it, but for a while you kept getting kicked by his long limbs, or getting punched by a flailing arm. And he drools, too, sometimes onto your hair. 

Why. Do you. Clip your nails on the bed. Ew, stop that. 

He’s prone to getting caught up in hipster food trends, like superfood phenomenons. Jihyun, you know that apricot pits are poisonous, right? I know the co-op recommended them but I gotta feel like that’s a marketing gimmick. Please don’t eat them, put those down. 

[theteenygemthief]

The Things That Weigh On You: Chapter 3

Rating: Explicit   |   Word Count: 4077  |  My Hero Academia | HawksxOCxDabi

Warning: The Things That Weigh On You features Sexual Themes, Violence, Drug abuse and touches on topics of personal trauma, mental illness and assault. Reader discretion is advised.

Credits: The image of Hawks is a screenclip from the anime. 

It’s just as easy to justify being a hero when everyone excuses your actions with the amount of glamour and power that comes with it. The media covers all of your triumphs and failures. You get endorsements. It’s almost second to being an A-List celebrity. But what happens when hero’s fall and suddenly, the justification leaves? What happens when ones own inflated ego gets the better of them and how do they bounce back from the rubble?

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The rise and fall...

      He had been watching from a distance in interest as their fingers interlaced with one and other. A curious yet dissatisfied glint shimmered in his eye as he leaned against a telephone pole with feigned relaxation. The bullet train that had arrived earlier had long since sped away and the announcer had been making her afternoon calls. His lips pulled into a thin line and he could feel himself bristling as his brows pinched together. His downy mess of sleeked back blond hair moved with the breeze as crimson feathers were near difficult to keep in one place. When he went to his old prison, he had crept in through the window, seeing that she had still kept his room clean, still setting his favorite books out to read as if he were going to be studying for some big exam. He saw how she tried to keep things the way she thought he liked them. She did the same things for her little sister, despite her leaving some time ago. As if it would be enough to bring both of them back.

    Edith, had always referred to him as though he were a little brother.

For a while, he ran with it to make her happy. He didn't mind. Hell, he even thought it would be a great idea for him to stop in after four years to show how big of a name he had made for himself. Make his supposed adopted older sister proud of him by saying “Hey look, I'm a big deal now!”, and what a better way to do that than showing up as a surprise guest at a gala? If only he'd known the extent of his emotions when he saw her standing at the balcony with a glass of champagne in hand. Her Crimson eyes staring over the veranda in deep thought as the light from the inside reflected off of the rhinestones of her midnight colored mermaid gown. Her lips had been painted red for the occasion and her arms had been covered in lace opera gloves. Open caplet sleeves and a bare neck and single ponytail adorned with pearls and crystals gave a regal air about her. Almost like the stories about the queens or goddesses they would read together when they were young.

    If he could laugh at himself.

The man he had seen her with had been far beneath her league with his leopard print suit and tacky alligator shoes. Yet her calm and calculated demeanor with him at least meant that she tolerated the bastard. He wasn't hardly a notable hero to say the least. Just some schmuck with an extension quirk and nothing more. Someone who was prone to get handsy if one wasn't too careful, and yet he felt that she had completely and totally forgotten about him. So he decided it would be best to dip out without a hello, stop in and say hi to little sister Daphne and be on his merry way.

As it turned out, the man had been a renowned serial killer and it had put Edith in a kill or be killed situation, where she had to resort to defensive execution. The police wouldn't have gotten there on time to find her alive. Pictures from that same night spread all over the news over the span of three days. “Susanoo Kills” or “The Fall of Fukuoka's Battle Queen”. The paparazzi went into a complete and utter frenzy attempting to obtain details of the incident and why a pro hero resorted to murder rather than call the police. She was a small town hero who lived under his old handlers big name. And after it all died down, he found himself watching as her little sister left. Leaving her to come back hours later to find a note that was left on the dining room table. And he would watch as she left the note, pour herself a drink, come back to it and read it again, leave it on the table, repeat. Until finally, watching her had become too painful.

   She fell as he rose.

   And he wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel dirty or proud.

His thoughts were pulled back to the present as he watched Dabi pull Edith close and he straightened. He could feel his irises shrink to thin rings as he beheld the sight of the taller of the two claiming her lips and watching her melt into them. He could feel his breath catch and his heart race as he proceeded to stand and watch intently at the two. His distance wouldn't blow his cover to say the least but the ache that he felt, the sting was beyond what he had been used to.

   “Ed...” He whimpered. “Ed, what are you doing?”

The winged hero Hawks could feel his face twist into a tight grimace as his teeth clenched. Every fiber of his being told him to look away, yet he still stared at the two in the distance. Watching. Waiting for something to happen. He knew Edith was a person of her own convictions. He was fully aware of her need for independence. And if this situation was forced, she would make a move. She would punch him. Stab him. Do something. Anything.

   Nothing.

And as he watched as another bullet train pulled in, he could see the intimacy in both of their eyes. The intimacy that he so desperately desired. He continued to watch as Edith turned, only to be pulled into what seemed to be another earth shattering kiss. He felt himself grow week as her knees buckled and Dabi entered the train with her, there was need in her eyes as she looked at him and Hawks continued to feel an ever growing twinge of jealousy. Wishing that he was the one who could do that.

   But he digressed.

He wouldn't get into something like that for a while. Instead, he would bide his time and see where the path ahead would lead him.

      She was pushed into the bathroom stall as greedy fingers trailed beneath the hem of her shorts. Hungry kisses consumed her throat and collar bone as a familiar click could be heard from behind her companion. His eyes were ablaze with a bestial need that longed to be quelled from their earlier encounter in the shower and the low rumble in his chest only signified the urgency of his desire. She parted her lips to say something, yet all words were chased away when his lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss. Soon, Edith's jacket would be stripped away. Her black turtleneck crop top would be nudged over her breasts with the black lace bralette she wore beneath, and she would be fighting everything in her power not to make a sound as Dabi slowly sunk between her thighs. Her back arched as his tongue slowly dragged along her inner folds, teasing her entrance for just a brief moment as he balanced her quaking body on his shoulders. His voice emitted vibrations against her clit  as he growled, encircling his tongue around the nerve.

   “Look at you,” He teased. “You are trying so hard not to come undone. You have fallen so far and yet you still worry so much about your image, little girl.”

Edith's eyes flared with mild irritation as her fingers dug into her companions scalp. She knew he was making attempts to get to her. See what made her angry. She knew the psychological evaluations that he had performed on her during their conversations were far from judgmental, but they had still been irritating. He wanted her as more than just a casual fuck buddy and she wouldn't deny that the feeling was mutual. Their relationship had been developing for a while, and he had challenged her. She still feared the day he would decide it wasn't worth coming back. Decided that she wasn't good enough or that she wasn't worth his salt.

Her thighs tightened around his head as she hummed lowly, pressing her hips tighter against his maw and seething as he accepted her.

   “Not all of us are born without expectations, Cinders.” She mocked, bucking her hips harder and throwing her head back as his teeth grazed the nerve again.

He wasn't going to correct Edith on the expectations bit. There was no point. He wasn't going to tell her about his childhood or his father. He had made a point of reinventing himself to set himself apart from it all. So instead, he rolled with her punches in this instant. Grinning to himself about how adorable he felt her momentary ignorance was. She would eventually learn about his past, yet that would come about at a later time. Depending on whether or not the situation required it. Dabi pulled away as he felt her quake against him, knowing full well how close she was and set her back on the floor, steadying her against him as he knelt down to pull her panties and shorts back up. He with held a teasing laugh as she whined at him to continue and looked up at her with a raised brow. Did she really think she was going to be let off the hook for her assumptions that easily? He slowly rose and towered over her, sealing his lips against hers for a brief moment so that she may taste herself.

   “I don't plan on finishing until we get back to your place, fangs.” He crooned. “Consider it punishment for mouthing off to me.”

    The house had nearly been encased in a shroud of darkness as Dabi and Edith crept in through the back. Doing their best to avoid attention from prying eyes. During their trek, it had been obvious that someone had been following them. The occasional flurry of fabric or movement in the corner of their eye had set them on edge, and the fire starter of the two knew that he couldn't return home for the evening. Edith did not mind at all.

   “Relax.” She reassured.

   “I can't.” he argued.

He stared out her bedroom window as she lit candles in the background. He'd been watching her from the reflection of the glass and doing his best to keep it a secret. Her bedroom had been minimalist to say the least. She kept a coffee table in the middle of the space to entertain guests or close herself off from the world. He wondered how often she closed herself off. How many bad days or weeks she'd had when he wasn't around? He couldn't focus on what they had been doing earlier knowing that she had let her fall get the better of her. Sometimes, he wondered if she felt any conviction to being a villain. Vigilante had been a strong maybe for her. She didn't have it in her to blatantly kill anyone based on their conversations. She was still too much of a goodie good. As much as it annoyed him, it was sweet that she tried. His eyes wandered down to the garden, watching as a couple took the back road home in deep conversation. Had he been able to live a normal life, that might have been him and the woman behind him. The idea of the two walking home arm in arm, deep in conversation on the way home from the grocery store, possibly expecting a child on the way as they hypothesized the quirks they would have was a fantasy that could only afford to be lived in a dream.

   Villains didn't get that reality.

    SMACK!

The sound in and of itself was enough to start a small fire in the bedroom as he jumped and spun on his heal. His hands cast aflame while his cool blue irises glowed with white hot embers. He had been ready to kill in that moment, only to find Edith's hand curled into a fist around a rolled up KEIRA magazine. Her fists had paled along with the rest of her body as if she had seen a ghost.

   “What happened?”

   “I had to kill a roach.”

Suddenly, all of the tension he had been holding on to had disappeared as he saw his former fuck buddy, now lover, standing like an actual god of war over the corpse of a roach.And the sound that escaped from him had been far from human.

       He spun around in circles as he moved to and fro in his swivel chair. His agency had been calling him several times to receive updates regarding his entry into the League of Villains and it was safe to report that no one had suspected him of anything. At least, so long as he was able to maintain that lie. One person in particular had recognized him and she had been standing behind one of their lieutenants in the shower as her eyes met his. He recalled how the curve of her hips had barely stuck out from behind Dabi as he tucked her protectively in the corner. Something told him that if the Fallen Hero Susanoo had been co-mingling with the league, he would have orders to kill her. He knew just how fast his quirk worked compared to hers, and just how intimately it would effect her if she dared to turn it on him. Then he would have no choice.

His fingers rapped on the edge of the computer desk as he tried to make sense of everything. Tried to figure out how to remove her from the equation in a way where she wouldn't get hurt. Otherwise, he would have to make a decision as to whether or not it was worth being a superhero himself.

   “You seem rather transfixed on the files in front of you, boy.”

There it was. The voice he had been dreading all night. He turned to face a man who had been an idol to him since he was small and smiled gleefully, acting as though he had been greeting an old friend as he slowly stood. In comparison the man stood at about six foot four and the fire that he donned on his suit could easily be used as a torch in a dark cave. Perhaps an ignition for a gas pocket if he trekked deep enough. But in that moment, his cold blue eyes were trained on reading him. Looking for a hole that he might have failed to cover up as he looked around the room. His spiked red hair added a menacing touch to his demeanor as he towered over him with folded arms.

    “I'm just planning my movements four steps ahead, Endeavor.” He replied, coolly. “With this type of organization you can never be too careful. The information they have is valuable and could potentially cost thousands of people their lives.”

Personally he wished he could turn his back on those people. He didn't understand what the point was in protecting a public who treated you like a damn movie star when you did absolutely nothing for them in their daily lives. Matter of fact, his public face was nothing more than a farce to keep up appearances for the top ten. It may as well have been a pissing match to see who was better at being a self righteous asshole.

   “I noticed that you've been to Fukuoka, recently.”

   “I have.”

There was a long pause that had run his blood cold. He knew what the other pro hero was about to ask as he did his best to keep his mask on.

   “Did you pay her a visit?”

Hawks could feel his stomach turn and twist as the trick question fell upon him. He had to think of an answer as quickly as possible to avoid suspicion, or some sort of confused reaction. He didn't want to bring up what he saw by the train station earlier in the day, nor did he want to confide in a man who could incinerate him right then and there.

   “Who?” He asked, keeping a stupid smile on his face.

If playing the fool could fan the flames of rage on a man who only very recently took the top of the hero's roster any more than it did in that instant, he would make it a personal hobby of his. Endeavor was so easy to manipulate in to a state of frustration, and like a jenga tower, his composure was so easy to set off balance. Unfortunately, the smaller of the two men facing eachother was not so easily swayed. He could keep a clueless smile on his face while knowing exactly what he was doing in the midst of danger, all the while his opponent would reveal their hand in thinking he wouldn't use it to his advantage.

So as the flame hero threatened to torch the entire room to ashes, the avian took note of the fire extinguisher in reach.

   “Takeda Nonoka's grand daughter, you stupid little...” Endeavor trailed off in a flurry of growls and curses at the smaller man.

   “Don't remember her.” Hawks said blankly.

   “Fallen hero, Susanoo.”

   “Nope.”

He really didn't know why they continued referring to her as Fallen Hero. She had stated in several interviews that she had killed in self defense. He watched as reporters hounded scoop after scoop on the matter, given that the serial killer she had executed was also a superhero.

   “Bah!” The older man finally grunted, leaving without another word.

Hawks listened carefully as his stomps disappeared down the hall and waited at least an hour before leaving.

He needed a reprieve.

     Edith slowly wandered up and down the aisle, collecting ingredients for a stew she had learned how to make when she was young. It was simple, nothing too big and was easy to send Dabi home with while leaving enough for leftovers. Hopefully no one would try and take his food. She remembered sending him home with lamb curry one evening and received a message more than two hours later regarding him having to make it again himself. And when she hadn't responded he had called her ten minutes later to apologize for not eating the food she'd sent him home with. And now, he was waiting for her to get back home with the ingredients and asking if she wanted him to prep anything, or clean any important dishes. It was a temporary paradise that she could live with.

Temporary being till the moment he went back on his words.

   “Don't forget the eggplant.” came a voice.

   “Oh believe me.” She said without thinking. “Grams would kill me if I forgot the eggplant.”

   “And the potatoes?”

   “Already at home.”

She turned to the person speaking to her with a smile, only for it to fade into the abyss. A woman just a few inches taller stood beside her as long wavy black hair fell over her shoulders. Her white trench coat hung down to the middle of her calves as black heeled boots lifted her heel just an inch off the ground. Brown eyes studied her intently as she peered past black spectacles at the older of the two. Her calm demeanor ensuring that no one would pay attention unless the younger of the two made a scene. The basket in Edith's arm nearly fell and as she moved to catch it, she looked up again and the woman was gone. Every muscle in her body had tensed. She wasn't sure how to react and her mind had filled with questions. Questions that would follow her until she sat down for dinner.

She knew Dabi had been watching her. Picking her apart like some science experiment in a psyche ward that continued to make the same mistakes over and over. Perhaps the issue was her. Maybe she was the reason why so many people went away. And if that was the case, how could she change it? How could she turn herself around and make herself more likable? Were there likable villains? No, if there were, they would be endorsed by big corporations and given assignments like heroes were. Her fingers clutched at the table cloth as her mind pondered why a woman she hadn't seen in years had suddenly been showing up after so long. Why would she appear at a grocery store of all places and how did she possibly know that Edith was there? These sorts of things raised questions as to what she needed all of her life. Or if being a villain was a birthright of hers.

   “Fuck.” She cursed.

     Her hands covered her face as she tried to hold back all the emotions that had been hitting her in that instant. Another hand had gently landed on her arm and though she didn't dare herself to look up, at least some semblance of relief washed over a part of her.

   Screams had echoed throughout the building as bodies littered the ruins of her hometown. Bomb sirens sounded off, she had been hiding beneath what remained of a fallen building and her heart had been racing. Crashing and explosions could be heard in the distance as she was currently one of the standing few. A ringing noise in her ear caught her attention as laughter mixed in with the sounds of someone screaming. Fire and ash entered her view and her heart began to race. She couldn't use her quirk. She had no weapons or anything to defend herself against her unknown adversary. And she grit her teeth as she felt helpless with the whole situation.

“Look out!” Cried a voice.

Edith barely had time to think as a force sped into her side, lifting her out of harms way and stealing her breath altogether. Shock had begun to overtake her. She was only a small time superhero who had little experience with life or death situations. She knew the reality of it all, she understood, but she had never had to deal with a situation so intense.

“I'm here.” The same voice reassured. “Just hold on to me, okay?”

Her breath began to settle as she nodded and looked up, the sun flashing in her eyes.

     She was whimpering in her sleep again. It was times like these where he felt helpless and incapable of doing anything. When she had returned, something had very obviously shaken her and he knew it. You can't shake quarts without chipping at its roots. And his lips drew into a thin line as to what exactly her roots were. He knew that her mother was a supervillain who expressly showed little interest in her development, though nothing that her grandmother couldn't make up for. However, unlike him, her trauma came at a later date. A later time and even though she had decided to become a hero as a child, the psychological damage she had gone through was pretty apparent. As for the physical...well, based on her scars, he could see that she had barely been through the ringer. Yet there were still those who could sweet talk their way out of a situation or be a complete and total wise ass where it was inappropriate.

He guessed she did quite a deal of sweet talking.

His icy blue eyes landed on a discoloration on the back of her shoulder and his mind slowly tried to make sense of it. As he ran his thumb over the mark, he had found that the skin in the area had smoothed over and thickened just slightly over time. Not like a flesh wound, but like a burn scar. Dabi's eyes narrowed into slits.

   “Was this the intent to punish or the means to kill?” he mused.

Sure, he'd seen the mark many times before. No one would even notice it just by a passing glance, and he had been certain that she'd forgotten all about it. He knew full well that he couldn't stop her from whatever decisions lay ahead. She would drink his blood and kick his ass with his own fire if he tried. But in the very least, he could dress the wounds and even stay beside her as she healed. That would at least be enough, wouldn't it?

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

Chapters:

P-1, CH2, CH3

[stardew-imagines-me]

That was quite fast, I hope this settles down. But I do like to ask something last minute, so here it goes! Can I ask something for Alex, or someone else if you prefer. Maybe him finally feeling like he is nothing like his father, and seeing his s/o and his kid(s) as proof of his realization? Hope you take it easy! :D

This is really long but jiodwoiehdiowe I loved this prompt so much!!

It took a long time to get to this point; Alex being able to watch his family run around the farm, dodging large spurts of water that whipped from the hose that you had grasped between your hands, yelling loudly at your children who clutched at their sides laughing. Teenagers, children. Sometimes he’d lay awake at night just thinking about the events of his life, thinking about how much further he had gotten than his father ever did.

He’s had these realizations many times before, but each one different from the last. His first was when you two had just gotten back from a long day of tending to the animals, pulling crops and catching fish in preparations of expanding your home. Alex hadn’t questioned the idea, even if he did, it was your home after all and he was just grateful you let him live with you - he knew you’d scorn him lightly and pout if you knew he still had thoughts like these.

Confidence, something he knows all too well and yet, still lacks the correct amount. Confidence you slowly helped him build in himself, the right kind.

That night, you had flung yourself over his side on the bed, freshly showered and dripping. He laughed and tried pushing you off of him when you would shove your sopping wet hair into the back of his neck - truth be told, it was something so small and domestic that left Alex aching for more affection, more love to receive and give.

Eventually, you settle down next to him, his arm wrapped around the side of your waist and pulling half of your body under his so you two could shield the cold of nightfall. He was nodding off to sleep when you suddenly blurted only thing that had been on your mind for months.

“Let’s have kids,”

You swore you’ve never seen Alex so panicked and shocked before, and it took everything inside of you to not flinch when he reeled back from your touch. It hurt, was there some misconceptions? Maybe this really was all too sudden..

“What..?” He asked quietly. You knew not to take it personally, but you couldn’t mask the disappoint you felt. 

“I.. Alex, I want to have kids with you,”

He looked somewhat troubled as you two laid there, staring at each other. “Sorry, this is so sudden - I wasn’t sure.. I didn’t… I’m sorry. It’s just, I see you around Vincent and Jas and you always look so happy, and since we’ve been married for nearly two years now, that, god I don’t know,” You’re rambling tirelessly, averting your eyes as you sit up and face him.

“Are we not ready?” He hates how sad you look, he never wants to make you sad but honestly, he’s terrified right now. He sighs and brings himself up as well, resting a hand on your thigh and looking up at you with as much vulnerability as he can.

“It’s not that we aren’t ready, I really do love children, I always have. And I love you,” His hand clenches slightly as he thinks about his words, “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to be a good dad. Mine was never around, he left when I was young, you know this, and what if -” He’s cringing at his own words.

It’s odd seeing someone so strong, so beautiful shrink into themselves. You wish you could kiss it away, you wish you could tell him he doesn’t have to explain but he does need this, it’s something that’s hard for him to talk about on his own.

“I want so badly to have children, I want to see you holding our kids and I want to complain about how hard it is to raise them. I want to teach my daughter how to play gridball and my son how to read.. I can’t promise you I won’t be like him though, I can’t even promise myself,”

Together you cried and talked about the future, reassuring that everything would be alright and he would never be like his father. Going to bed well past midnight was worth it since you watched the worry dissipate in his eyes. This wouldn’t be the first talk, and you were ready for that. It’s a long road towards healing, the least you could do was whisper gently and circle your thumb against his cheek as he fell asleep beside you.

-

The second time was when he held his daughter tight against his chest after a long night of laying down, getting up, feeding, rocking, laying down and repeating. It had gotten to the point where you got up against your better judgment and helped him put your daughter to sleep. Alex was sat in the nursery’s chair, just staring down at his precious daughter in his arms when he finally looked up when you had cupped the side of his face and kissed his temple.

“She loves you so much,” you mumble tiredly against his head. He realizes he’s crying when you wipe off the bottom of his chin with your sleeve. He does his best to muffle the exhausted, overwhelmed sob that starts to rip and tear roughly against his chest. He’s so in love with his tiny family, that was one thing his father didn’t learn.

“Oh, my baby,” you soothed softly, letting him cry quietly while your daughter slept in his arms. Maybe he might be a good dad someday, he was already doing better than his own, but that hadn’t stomped all the fear time in its entirety.

“Let’s have another,” You watched in hushed laughter as Alex cried harder, letting out wet laughter and lazy nods. His tiny family was going to grow at this rate if they had more nights like these.

-

One after another, days passed swiftly and he found himself caught in the events of every day life. His little daughter became a big sister in no time, a baby brother of her own to care after and soon to be a baby girl to follow right after him. You had a good laugh with Eveyln and George as Alex looked absolutely beat at the talk of a fourth child. Perhaps that would be a good pillow talk topic, but right now as your three children played in the yard with Sam’s kids, he was satisfied with where he was in the present.

His insecurities seemed to be put on the back burner as he helped his eldest daughter put on her backpack for the start of preschool and helped both his other kids into their highchairs for a quick breakfast. When they did reappear out of the blue, they were stomped back down when his baby boy would call his “daddy” over just so he could help him draw pictures. The pride he felt hearing his children call him daddy was immense and endless.

His confidence as a father grew with his children. His youngest daughter was co-president of book club in their 5th grade class with Elliot’s son and although he himself wasn’t the best at reading, he would always help her learn new words or phrases.

His eldest daughter was loud and energetic, taking after himself in every way possible. He beamed when she would explain how her coach scouted her out for the high school gridball team, explaining how she would most certainly be one of the most gifted in her team. He might’ve cried a bit that night when you had cuddled up next to him. 

“She said I was the best dad,”

His son made him just as proud as his daughters. He was very interested in art, and best friend’s with Leah’s daughter who was another gifted child in their middle school. He had watched his little boy scribble trees onto blue craft paper grow into (still) his little boy who had won art competitions with his paintings at such a young age. His children were one of the things that kept him working, moving and experiencing.

-

“Thank you,” Alex whispered against your bare neck, ignoring the dripping water from your hair that drenched the collar of his shirt. Ironic considering this was the exact situation that got you two into this in the first place.

“Hmm? For what?” You ask, turning around from under him and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Thank you for granting me three beautiful children and keeping me strong,” It was a short sentence, only lasting so many words but the meaning behind each and every one of them was sincere. It took years to get here, but he was finally able to admit that he would never end up like his father. 

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your lips and kissed you passionately. It took years, but he found love that he never expected and a life that he never experienced himself when he was younger - a life that he used to be scared of.

It took a long time, but he’s no longer afraid; he’s proud of you, of your children and how far he made it even when his father doubted every fiber of his being. Maybe, just maybe, he had always known he would be more of a man than his father ever had been.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: your days are numbered; jon moxley

Notes:

So... I started writing what I thought was gonna be a feral!alpha Mox universe.. and surprise, surprise... I wrapped it up in 3 titles. But.. But.. I’m seriously considering actually writing the entire thing at some point. But I don’t know just yet. It’s one of those wild hairs / brain itches I can’t seem to get rid of, tbh. Anyway, this is part 1 there are two others that go with this. I’m gonna try to post them all close together, we shall see.

{ wanna send in one of these? here’s how | masterlist of fake fic titles  }

Summary:

It was the one thing he never thought he’d find.. Her.. Now he has to figure out a way to get her away from Shawn Spears. But once he has her all to himself, how will everything work out? Can he show her he’s not like the rest?

Pairing:

Jon Moxley x OFC, Grace

Warnings:

Mentions of violence, heavy alphaxomega implications, feral alpha.

The sweet and slightly tangy scent was back again and it had Mox tensing all over, pacing the hallway and clenching then unclenching his fists. He’d never felt more like a caged animal than he did this very moment.

Mox didn’t fucking like it. Oh, he liked the comfort knowing that he did have a mate and that he finally knew where she was and she was close.. It was the feeling like a caged animal that Mox couldn’t stand, that had him seething.

He’d been trying to shove it out all day but he’d yet to actually succeed. Trying to follow the scent trail to find her was futile, he always seemed to get wherever she’d been as she’d just left the area.

Oh, he had his suspicions about who she was. And even more suspicions about why she was kept so scarce, dangled just within his reach. These suspicions were confirmed almost the second the scent started to get really strong and Mox’s mouth began to water as fangs pricked at his gums, threatening to puncture through skin.

His cock was so hard it fucking hurt to breathe.

Mox knew exactly what this meant and he knew exactly why if he were to try and follow his nose again, he’d just miss her, again.

And frankly?

It was really starting to bring forth Mox’s inner animal. And Mox wasn’t in the mood to reign it in either.

Someone was staring at him, he could feel their eyes.

He turned and the scent of her got so fucking strong. He sniffed the air and bit back a groan as his eyes met hers. She kept staring, biting her lip and fidgeting. He picked right up on the unease in her scent and he felt that Alpha kicking in, taking over. Whoever had her uneasy was going to have hell to pay at his hands. He stopped himself, took a deep breath and tried to rationalize what was going on right now, all the while, staring right at her. He was honestly afraid to look away, afraid he’d look back and she’d be gone again.

… fuck… i’m done for… i’d kill for her.. Mine… all mine…

He took a step forward, intending to make his way over to her side, his rightful place, but Shawn Spears stepped between them and stared him down, arms folded over his chest.

“The fuck do you think you’re about to do, huh?” Shawn chuckled and shook his head. Behind him, he felt her tense up, felt her tugging at his hand.

“Not now.” Shawn’s words were sharp when he addressed Mox’s omega and Mox saw the way she flinched. He growled quietly, shoving himself against the guy. “I’m about to talk to her. Somethin you apparently don’t fuckin know how to do. My question to you, man is..” he shoved at Shawn again, “who the fuck do you think you are, huh? Keepin her from me.”

“Keeping her… From you. That’s rich, considering she’s mine.”

Mox’s eyes happened to settle on her and he shook his head, snorting as if he refused to accept what Shawn was saying. Which he did, with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t help but notice the way she seemed tense around Shawn. Almost like she didn’t want to be near the guy, let alone, be trotted out like arm candy or a trophy.

The thought of it sickened him.

The thought of it had him wanting to rip Shawn Spears limb from limb. If she weren’t standing there, he most likely would have.

His Omega was the only tether keeping Shawn Spears tied to this mortal plane. But just as soon as she’s somewhere safe, bet your entire ass, Mox found himself thinking, I’m gonna fuck you up. They’re gonna need special qualifications to identify the body down at the morgue when I’m done with you.

He never said a word, just calmly shoved at Shawn again. Shawn shoved back, not even bothering to move her out of harms way. It fell to Mox to do or say something to get her the fuck away from the fight that was about to take place.

“Hey, uh Blondie?”

She seemed to both perk up and tense at being directly spoken to by him. It really gave Mox a clear picture about how shit worked between Shawn and Mox’s kept Omega. The thought only made Mox clench his fists tighter. His reasons for snapping were growing more and more and his reasons to stay calm, while greater, were shrinking with each second that passed.

He got the sense about his Omega.. She was the shy sort. Timid, probably easily spooked. And it didn’t take an idiot to guess how Shawn might have picked right up on that fact and somehow worked his way in, used it to his advantage.

And that only further fuelled the rage within.

All Grace could do was tense up and watch the growing confrontation in concern. When Mox addressed her, she shifted her gaze to him and swallowed hard, trying to get her mouth and brain to work together.

… say something… She coaxed herself, but it didn’t work. She was still caught in the grips of her shock that she had a true Alpha, he was here and from the way he acted and the heavy notes of concern and desire his scent held, what Shawn claimed -that she wouldn’t be wanted, was a blatant lie, most likely cooked up by the man to keep her from waiting it out and trying to hope against hope that her true Alpha presented himself.

Knowing that, she just found herself disgusted with what was going on currently. All she wanted was to go to Mox, to be with him. To give herself over to him completely without hesitation.

She tried to push past Shawn, to go to Mox, but Shawn reached out, grabbing for her hand, jerking her right back behind him. He turned and eyed her, glaring. “You belong to me. You better remember that.”

“ I don’t belong to anyone.” Grace attempted to be assertive, but Shawn laughed and then mumbled in a lower tone, “You will, soon enough.”

“The hell I will.” Grace answered, shrinking away from him when he stepped closer. The only reason she even agreed to this stupid gimmick in the first place is the higher ups not wanting unmated Omegas roaming wild and free in the back, playing havoc on the unmated Alphas and causing chaos.

If she’d known Mox was her true Alpha, - or that he’d even have been a little interested in the whole concept of a bond like he apparently was come to find out, she never would have just agreed to valet Shawn.

If she could turn back the clock.. Knowing what she was aware of now, she never would have even given Shawn a second glance because Mox was quite literally everything she’d ever hoped for in an Alpha and then some. She locked eyes with Mox and Mox nodded to the side of where they all stood, trying to get her to move.

She tried to but Shawn, being the slippery eel he was known for, moved her right in front of him, smirking just as soon as Mox immediately stepped back just to keep himself from hurting his Omega. Shawn gave a dark chuckle at the action and scoffed. “I thought you were reckless, Mox. I thought you didn’t give a fuck about anyone but you. Don’t tell me you’re gonna go weak now, hmm? This is gonna be easier than I thought.”

Mox growled, stepping right back up. The movement put him right against her which was good, it meant he could get hands on her, get her out of the way and make one hundred percent certain that she was safe and remained safe.

Mox glanced down at the blonde Omega nestled between himself and Shawn and he boldly reached down, grabbing hold of her hips, pulling her closer to himself, glaring at Shawn the whole time, daring the other Alpha to do something.

Shawn stepped closer, every intention of doing the same thing, but Mox was quicker and he carefully plucked his Omega from between the two, raising to full height, smirking at Shawn as he did so. A quiet growl came from both males and Mox leaned in a little.

“Know what, Spears? I think I’m just gonna take her. I mean, she’s mine anyway. And you treat her like shit. She’s shakin she’s so goddamn scared of you.”

“It’s this.. The fighting.. That’s not helping…” Grace spoke up at last, even though her voice was almost a whisper. The whole confrontation was making her uncomfortable, the fact was only slightly mitigated by Mox staying close and providing her with just a little calm. “Definitely him though.. The way I know he’s gonna get angry later.” it slipped out before she could stop it, sealing Shawn Spears’ fate.

Shawn’s place in Grace’s life was reaching a speedy expiration. His days as her so called Alpha were numbered. If Mox had his way about how things played out, it was all going to end tonight.

Tully showed up before the fight could really even get started, whispering to Shawn. When Shawn tried to shove through Mox to grab her, Mox shoved him down onto the floor, leaning over Shawn, hauling him up by the collars of his vest, sneering in his face. “You ain’t gonna lay a hand on her. Ya not even gonna fuckin look at her. I’ll fuckin kill ya. Get lost you little bitch.” Mox let him fall back to the floor and Shawn sprang up, hitting Mox in the head from behind when he turned and he was more focused on Grace than he was on Shawn and any attempt at retaliation he might make.

Mox leaned into her, cupping her cheeks, staring down into her eyes. “Ya gonna be okay.”

Grace managed a nod and clung to Mox to stay on her feet when Shawn crashed into the two from behind. Mox growled quietly, whispered into her ear, “My changin room.. It’s down the hall. Get ya ass in there. I won’t be a second tops.”

“Mox, no..”

“Go, damn it. I’m gonna fuckin rip his head off. I don’t want you out here in the middle.”

His tone was firm enough to send a coating of slick rushing down her inner thighs and after a second, she was finally tapped on the shoulder by Riho, who grabbed hold of her wrist and muttered quietly about needing to get her out of harms way, whisking her off and away down the hall.

Mox whirled around and grabbed a chair in one fluid motion. The chair met Shawn’s head and Shawn grabbed at it next, trying to shove it into Mox’s midsection. The fight was just reaching that point of out of control when Cody ran down the hall, with some of the others, quick to break the two up.

“I want him in that ring! Tonight! He’s tryin to take my Omega.”

“You want me, Spears? You fuckin got me. And you won’t even be alive to breathe on her when I’m through with you.”

“So, you two are getting a match tonight. To settle this. Until then, Mox, Grace stays with you.” Cody spoke up, looking from one man to the other. Mox nodded, smirking at Shawn, reaching out to give the man one last good shove. “Works for me, boss. I’ll see you tonight, sunshine.” Mox snarled at Spears before stalking off, heading in the direction of his changing room… He had to make sure Grace was okay. If that asshole had done anything to her and Mox found out, then tonight, Mox was going to make doubly sure he ended Shawn Spears.

Shawn Spears’ days were numbered. He was quite literally, a dead man walking.

[pyrewriter]

Red Vendetta

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Eliksni Name pronunciation:Esyra (E-si-ra)

The little machine Pyrrhaks, Brykis and I had captured was left behind during our sudden uprooting. It was unfortunate that we could not extract any data from the little machine but bringing it along would have only led more Risen to us. Ogethres kept true to his word when it came to needing his best

Seasons had passed since our guild was forced from our compound on the island and had since begun rebuilding, this time nearer to the coast. The peninsula that humans called the "European Dead Zone" was already teeming with House Dusk activity and any further inland would take us into the Devil’s old territory. The coast still had its share of sprawling cities that had been reclaimed by vegetation since their abandonment centuries ago. Salvage, data, even suitable ether conversion sites were scarce though and much of the guild was stuck aboard their shuttles due to lack of space. Having such a large amount of our guild already aboard proved to be a great boon however. 

During a season of heavier than normal rains when thick clouds blanketed the sky ,often darkening the land below to near black, our guild was once again uprooted. Crimson clad beasts descended from the through their veil of clouds like rain, crashing down in drop pods shot from their battleships. Swiftly we began gathering those not already on shuttles while anyone who could fight was sent to gather what supplies they could carry and retreat. Our window of escape was narrow and rapidly closing but together we pushed on to save everything we could. I had heard stories of these creatures, organized formations and movements, ruthless tactics, and hard to bring down even in single combat. These ones were different from those I was told about, I knew of smaller ones with special abilities but there were more.

Hounds nearly the size of Vandals swarmed everywhere, melee berserkers rushed into the fray butchering anything not their own, flame spewing juggernauts razed everything around. These were not any of the legions I was told of. Regardless I was on the front line with initial strike survivors, our line would not last but it wasn't meant to, we knew to resist was pointless and to surrender meant only a shameful death. We over extended at first to give those further from the Ketch a chance to gather what they could before retreating fully. The formation of the frontline and simultaneous retreat of noncombatants was the first major coordinated movement of such a large number of Eliksni since the Reef Wars.   

Our foe continued to push us further back as our line collapsed slowly, they hammered us from the sky and pushed us back from the land but did not move from our rear. Whether it was out of honor, pride, or lack of capability I do not know ,however, their intent was clear. Push us to the water to funnel our people into kill boxes along the coast. On most other guilds such a tactic would almost certainly spell death but we were more than prepared for a coastal maneuver. 

"How far, Ketch!?" I heard Brykis yelped over the rumble or combat.

Without taking my sight off the battlefield before me I shouted between shots "Not close enough, fight on, wait signal!". I lobbed a shock grenade causing one that I had apparently stuck to leap over the advancing line and charge, eyes flaring red beneath it's helme. The grenade's detonation resulted in a violent burst of light and gore, momentum carried the remains forward before falling. Fighting continued for hours as we inched closer to the Ketch while our people behind the line boarded shuttles with what they could carry or strap to Servitors and Shanks. I remember watching so many from my guild and others I had never seen before slump to the floor dead or writhe while they howled in pain before being carried off. 

Our line was shrinking and our numbers were decreasing faster than the enemies until finally the signal came over our communicators. "Collapse line, Ketch ready, skiffs loaded, exodus underway" on cue every Eliksni across the fighting line unloaded everything they had left. The sudden unyielding barrage of arc bolts and shock grenades severely disrupted the enemies advancing formation. Many drew their knives to take the opportunity to decimate the front line of our enemy that had taken many lives and was uprooting so many more.

I would be lying if I said that I did not take part in the display of savagery myself, again I watched as Elikisni ,from Dregs to Barons, fought and fell in vicious melee combat side by side. Some were cleaved in half, others torn to pieces, many were pummeled by fists or shields. It was a great tide of fury and vengeance for all they had done but on that day few displayed such anger as one in particular.   

As I was burying my blade into the neck of a shield bearer I heard a familiar voice bellow a thunderous "WITNESS ME!" it was a female and one I knew. 

Turning I saw a Captain ,it was Esyra, "WITNESS!!" I roared in reply followed by several others including Brykis. I and the others who replied stood with weapons raised high as we watched Esyra drop her armor before charging the enemy commander at the center of their now broken formation. She let out one final resonating howl, there was a blinding flash as she ignited her ether tanks, Esyra and everything around her had been reduced to vapor. I had already claimed more than my share of the enemies heads but for her...they owed me.

A similar sentiment seemed to echo through the minds everyone around me. Together myself and all who roared in reply drained our ether reserves, every fiber of my being screamed out for them to pay and the tithe was blood. By the time our ether ran dry enemy reinforcement were within scanner range but I had already run my blade dull. Only then did we finally retreat to the Ketch with Esyra's armor carried by Brykis, her and weapons slung to my side.

When the frontline survivors were aboard the Ketch and every shuttle fired in unison what weapons they had in an attempt to at least partially clear the skies. Using the gap created from the flak we made a break for open water. The moment we were out of the shallows our ships dove ,we didn't dare go too deep, only far enough that we wouldn't be easy to see from above. For a while I mourned our losses while aiding survivors with their recovery but it was just a distraction from what I was dreading. 

Esyra, a member of the same brood as Brykis and myself but she worked so much harder as a female and quickly rose to Captain.She would have meetings with Pyrrhaks from time to time so we met often enough to catch up on what we had done in the time between. As a Captain and a female at that she was important and had duties to uphold but she was kind, gentle even. Esyra wasn't there for my ascension but after our first relocation when we met she confessed she wanted me to be her mate. 

It was her right as Captain to simply make me her mate but she gave me a choice and like an immature Dreg I said "First I reach Captain, I earn right to be mate". Looking back I don't believe her asking was out of respect for my skill or strength but because of one of the strongest emotions that one can have according to humans. I only came to this realization after finally mustering enough backbone to take stock of her equipment.

"Going to quarters?" Brykis asked after seeing me on my way out of the med-bay.

My head was hung low so it wasn't hard for my brother to tell where I was going, turning I replied "Disrespectful to leave be, needs to be done". He nodded in response before returning to what he was doing, I locked eyes with father along the way as well. Our exchange was silent but there was no need for words, a gesturing nod was enough. Once I was in my quarters habitually I started dismantling, inspecting, cleaning, and repairing every weapon in the room. Of course it was a distraction but it was customary to start with the instruments used by the one you mourn. 

I moved on to my armor and started working slowly but no matter how long I worked time felt like it was just standing still. Esyra's armor was heaped in the corner but her helm was staring at me, even with my back turned to it I still felt a gaze ,her gaze, beaming at me. Putting down the piece I was tinkering with I spun around to stare at the helm for a moment to meet it's gaze, breathing deep I let out a heavy sigh and set to work. I wasn't an armorer so until recently the only Captains equipment I had worked on was my father's but after our exodus from the peninsula every Eliksni was needed for everything. 

Esyra's was personal though so I took extra care, dismantling and changing out damaged plating before repairing or replacing it's internals. The short range transmat module was fried along with the shield generator but the ether systems were almost fully intact. Among the normal arc cells and tools that most Captains kept on them there was one item in particular that stood out as unusual. It was a data slate that had a single entry on it. 

==Entry translated from Eliksni==

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

Esyra final communication, deliver to Mate Ellrimksyt upon receiving

Ellrimksyt, you strong, if reading this then stronger than me, hope fell in spectacle, hope we...were together. Maybe I fall before could say, say now to be certain, Ellrimksyt, I pick you as mate for more than strength, respect, status. I pick you because admire, you not Eliksni by birth, you Eliksni by heart, you grow, you live, you fight Eliksni. Not know how word, you make feel more than respect, I see you and chest warm. Think Humans say "deep affection". As expression, with privilege as Captain I bestow mementos, my helm and weapons, now yours, keep as decoration, use or modify, your choice. 

[Audio recording attached]          

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

==Audio entry Redacted by scribe==

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[amberandmetal]

Are you strange like me?

Written for: @youngmoneymilla​s 5k challenge Squares filled: First kiss for @buckybarnesbingo and Touch starvation for @marvelfluffbingo (there is fluff at the end, I swear that counts!) Prompt: “I think there’s a flaw in my code/These voices won’t leave me alone/Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold (Gasoline – Halsey)” Pairing: Bucky x F!reader Warnings: Angst O´hoy. There are PTDS elements, anxiety and panic etc but not too much (and there is fluffy flufflfuff at the end because that’s just the rules, mkay?), mentions of war and being kidnapped, touch starvation mentioned. Rating: Teen and up Word count: ca 3,5 k Summary: After the war you need somewhere to belong, and The Avengers need someone to make them look good. A/N: Yeah, this got a life of it’s own. Not really how I initially planned it but I’m happy with how it turned out. I’m surprised at myself for keeping it clean (seriously, who am I?) I have little to no knowledge of military jargong and workings so if there are any mistakes please let me know and I will fix. English is my 2nd language and this is unbetad so all mistakes are mine.

    Tony’s brown eyes felt just as enigmatic and piercing even through the television screen, whiskey and liquid intelligence peering at the interviewer from behind thick sunglasses slid down to the tip of his nose; and on the side of him, smaller, grey, bland, were you, looking every bit as uncomfortable as you had felt.

You grabbed the flesh between clavicle and chest, kneading and scratching the skin where the weight of your medals had hung only hours ago, where the echo of them still made it hard for you to breathe.

    “She’s a perfect addition to the team and she’s been adapting beautifully. We’re really proud to have another veteran amongst our midst,” Tony clapped a proud hand on your shoulder and flashed the camera one of his legendary PR-smiles “we’re lucky to have her.”

    “Ugh.” You clicked the TV off and turned around on the couch, laying with your face towards the cushions.

    The Avengers had been in deep water after the latest attack on New York, more and more of the masses forgetting what they’d done for them — and where they would be if they hadn’t. Acting- and calling them out for the destruction and desolation. Anger fueled by fear leading them in a search for a focus point to target their pain. The team needed to make a move to get in the people’s good graces again.

    And then there were you.

    After the war nothing had been the same. Before when you closed your eyes there had been darkness and calm behind your eyelids, an ethereal vastness that relaxed you, allowed you to breathe before opening them again. A refuge in your daily ongoings.

    After there had been nothing but gunsmoke and ash, billowing from the depths you stared into each time you closed your eyes. Wretched stench of putrefied flesh simmering in the smoke and seeping into your skin from behind your eyelids, digging tunnels in your fibers, filling your nose and mouth with dry sand and bile.

    You gasped, back shooting out from the couch as if you could escape the waking nightmare sticking to the inside of your skull. It burned at your temples like electricity.

    The official statement was that you were a normal soldier, a gunner, that had been captured and held captive, then somehow managed to not only break yourself out, but the other seven soldiers stuck in that hellhole beside you as well; and you’d gotten mighty decorated for it.

    You scoffed. Decorated, sure, and forced to lie.

    There had been nothing normal about you, or what happened. No one spoke a word of the special ops you’d been a part of, or that the people that had held you captive had neither been Al-qaeda or even the Taliban. It had been Hydra. The Nazi science division that you’d been told in school had been taken down by Captain America.

    Cut off one head, and two will take its place. Uh-huh, yep.

    That was not the only lie you’d been told, or been forced to tell. The seven other captives were more like hundreds, hundreds of lives that you’d left behind when you managed to flee with only a small group as the others were left being tortured and experimented on. Their screams stayed with you, a never ending echo in the hollow of your mind.

    The other seven —among them a woman named Grace, a fellow american with black hair and even blacker eyes, and a smile that refused to be beaten down— had been taken down during your escape. Grace had clutched her chest as the blood from it sprayed across your arm, she’d fallen, roaring at you to go, to run, to ‘fucking save yourself, damnit!’. You’d gotten out with only a bullet wound through your right hand and left shoulder, and a newfound weight in your chest.

    According to your Officer the public didn’t need to know that the people you saved didn’t survive, only that you had freed them.

    “Remember, Sergeant. You gave them the gift of dying free. That’s quite something.”

    Yeah well, they didn’t look free, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like a gift.

    Survivor’s guilt your shrink called it. Whatever.

    You kneaded the spot where your medals had hung. The Medal of Honor and the Prisoner of War among others. You shuddered; revulsion tumbling in your gut. It was a torment wearing them- but it was, as they say, a necessary evil.

    When you’d returned you couldn’t, just as many others, get back to your normal life; a decade of training and war had taken a toll and you weren’t the same. The trauma clung to your spine like a ball and chain slowly turning your vertebrates into lead. It had made a home for itself there in your back, cozying up in the hollow where neck meets skull, safe where you couldn’t reach.

    You had been tethering on the edge of insanity when you’d finally broken down and pleaded with your Captain to let you back out there, and thankfully, blissfully, he had —albeit a bit reluctant— agreed. But it wasn’t the same. Suddenly you couldn’t work with your group, too on edge, too hyper aware and too concerned by your teammates safety. Once you were back your team had started out on a small mission, delicate but nothing you couldn’t handle — or that’s how it should have been. You had once been like a well oiled machine and now you were falling apart. So you got discharged, told it just wasn’t a good fit anymore, which was a “real shame considering.”

    So The Avengers needed too look good, and you needed a place where you could belong. And nothing gets you back into America’s good graces as a decorated veteran.

    So here you were.

    Here you were..

     ~~~

    The sound of opening and closing doors followed by laughter made your ears perk up. Steve and Bucky back from their morning run, from the sounds of it. Steve’s laughter easy and full and Bucky’s quieter, more of a chuckle —  deep and tense. Always so tense.

    Bucky had adapted relatively quickly to life at the compound, but he still kept mostly to himself. Steve, of course, had made it his life’s mission to draw the old Bucky out, teasing and joking with him, taking him back to Coney Island, practically dragging him out of his room for Team bonding nights (usually movie nights, but sometimes you played video games, and one particularly memorable evening Clint had persuaded the entire team into playing Twister. He lost. Every time), yet it never felt sincere from Bucky’s side. He did try. You could see it in the shape of his stance, the frustration burning in his eyes in spite of the broad grin he managed to apply for Steve. Still it looked less like two friends hanging out and enjoying down time together and more like a frightened animal trying to appease it’s rescuer.

    You had no idea if anyone else noticed it, but you had a pretty big clue that Steve had caught on. Every once in a while Bucky would look away, trying his damndest to laugh at one of Tony’s jokes, and something arduous would set in the blue of Steve’s eyes like stone.

    Both men came through the doors, sweat darkening their clothes and making them glisten in the morning sun.

    “Good run?”

    Steve almost jumped.

    “Oh, hi Y/n. Yeah, Bucky still aint got shit on me though.” he laughed and shook Bucky’s shoulder playfully. Bucky flinched slightly at the contact, but quickly managed to correct himself, quirking the corner of his mouth in a half smile and raising his hand in greeting.

    “Language,” you admonished with a wink before letting your eyes land softly on Bucky and offering a small smile “Morning, Buck.”

    He huffed a little, a twitch in his smile: a mirroring sensation in your chest.

    Steve looked between the both of you with a raised brow.

    “Yeah, okay. Gotta hit the showers! You too, punk— you reek.”

    Something light flashed in Bucky’s eyes and his smile grew almost sincere.

    “Do not gimme that, you’re the punk. Always were.”

    “Yeah, but that was before I hit my growth spurt!”

    You snorted at the same moment Bucky did, sniggering under your breath.

    Steve looked absolutely delighted.

    “Some growth spurt..” Bucky mumbled following Steve towards the elevators.

      ~~~

    The anxiety was a physical thing. It was birthed out of every patch of skin where you had been touched, ebbing out like crests until you were covered in it — sticky and suffocating, viscous and disgusting, and you were painted from tip to toe.

    You cursed yourself under your breath for not thinking it through. The PR-people had of course wanted you to wear your dress uniform and you had simply refused, thinking ‘no, no anything but that. Going naked would be better than that’ and after some coaxing from Tony and Miss Potts they had relented. What a mistake it had been.

    Now there you were, locked in your room in a gorgeous gown that showed more skin than not, after a night of having been passed around like a basket of breadsticks.

    Smile for the camera.

    Oh hi, hello, why yes I am she, yes I did save those soldiers.

    Handshake.

    Anything for my country.

    Laugh.

    Oh yes, they have been treating me real nice.

    Hugs.

    Touches.

    Gooseflesh.

    Panic.

    Bile.

    Two hours were all you could take and when Pepper had called to a toast you saw your chance and took it. Now your clothes pooled in a trail on the floor leading to your bathroom as you hurried into the spray.

    The daffodil-yellow loofah quickly worked up a lather, the sudds slightly pink and smelling of strawberries and cream, a welcome softness after the sharp and biting too harsh reality of the party. Scrubbing up and down your body your muscles started to untense, the coating of dread coming off like shedded skin. A sigh escaped your lips: you could breathe again.

    Of course, you had agreed to all of this, to help, to be this shining face and PR circus for the team, because it also meant that you in fact were a part of said team. Skillset-wise you were absolutely up to par with both Barton and Romanoff and they all seemed genuinely happy to have you. But this.. facade, was the price you had to pay, and you gladly did — did not mean it didn’t hurt to do it though.

    Hair washed and every inch of your skin thoroughly scrubbed pink you got out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a big fluffy robe, sighing at the comforting slide of cotton against your bones.

    You exhaled loudly, slumping down on your bed, ignoring the trilling ringtone of your phone in favour of the fluffy pillows that gave way for your weight like a hug. Pepper would have to wait.

     ~~~

    Tap, tap, tap.

    A soft knock on your door snapped you out of focus. Not in the mood for company you hesitated, even though knowing fully well who was on the other side of that door. Metal on metal gave a much sharper sound than flesh.

    “Bucky?” you opened the door ajar.

    He looked a bit sheepish and apologetic, hunched in the empty corridor.

    “Hey, Y/n… you okay?”

    You shrugged, but then looked him over. He was doing a good job of holding it together but you could see the signs: the nervous tapping of his fingers against the wall, his skin a shade paler than usual and his eyes flickering from point to point, not stilling for more than a few seconds.

    “Are you?”

    Abalone eyes flitted to yours — so bright, so sharp.

    “Of course,” he tried for a smile “I just wanted to check on you. You kinda took off like somebody burned ya.”

    You huffed.

    “Yeah, well.. I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was for-.. for everything.”

    Nodding he ran a hand through his hair, a scent sent wafting. Your skin turned effervescent.

    “You wanna come in?”

    There was no mistaking the gratefulness softening his gaze.

    You backed up to let him in, careful to lock the door behind him.

    He sat down on your bed, his eyes snapping across your room and his fingers tapping away at his thigh.

    “Howd’ya manage to make it so… homey so fast?”

    You followed his gaze to your walls, the paintings and curiosities covering them, the shelves with figurines and too many plants, the bookcase littered with books and notebooks and the deep teal coloured couch with more cushions than actual space for sitting.

    You plopped down next to him, careful of keeping your robe from slipping.

    “I don’t know, I just can’t stand cold walls.”

    A beat of silence followed, hardening the air. Always this damn feeling when he got close, every time.

    “You write?” he asked, pointing at your notebook lying open on your nightstand.

    “Sometimes,” you hesitated “mostly to clear my head. My shrink down at the VA suggested it.”

    “Oh, that’s right.. I forgot - Steve told me but I guess it slipped my mind. A lot o-”

    “of new information.”, you finished in unison.

    He chuckled and scratched at his neck, making strands the shade of dark rosewood fall and shield his face. The close proximity made your skin tingle.

    “May I?”, he gestured toward the open pages “or maybe you can read me something?”

    There was something vulnerable there, something sweet and wistful — somber.

    You reached for the notebook and scooted closer and Bucky shot up like he had been burned.

    You peered up at him.

    “Why do you do that?”

    “I- fuck, I’m sorry. I-”

    “Why? I mean I’ve seen you.. even when Steve touches you, you flinch.”

    Bucky looked taken aback for a second but then seemed to slump, a tired exhale leaving his lungs like it had been forced out of him.

    “It’s that obvious?”

    You backed up a bit.

    “Tell me.”

    “Why do you care?”

    “Because I do.”

    He looked hesitant for a second.

    “I haven’t been touched in a.. positive way, in a long time. Truth be told I’m starved for it, all I want is to feel that connection, I mean it’s all I dream about when it’s not the nightmares.. but-”

    “Then why?”

    “- but when it’s sudden, when I’m not ready for it. It burns. It’s too much, too fast and it’s unsettling. I hate it. It’s like getting what you want but not on your own terms and the sensation on my skin gets overwhelming.. and.. fuck, yeah I think that’s the gist of it,” he wrought his hands together, looking away “I’m sorry, I’m still adjusting.”

    He looked so beautiful, even like this. Even in pain and confused his presence took up the room, changed the atmosphere into whatever it was that was Bucky. The scent of him in your nostrils, bergamot and cedar, and the heavy weight of him dipping your bed, and you so badly wanted to inch closer, to reach out and touch, feel if he’s as warm as he looks, giving him something of that that he craves, being a balm to soothe, to hush, to lull.

    “So.. if you were ready for it?”

    His eyes blinked up to yours.

    You got closer, sitting on your knees with an outstretched hand, close enough to touch without in fact doing so.

    “…if you know I’m going to touch you, if you can.. ready yourself then maybe, it won’t feel like that?”

    His eyes got soft then, filled with something you couldn’t find a word for, and he turned on the bed to face you fully.

    “That’s very sweet of you, doll— mind if I call ya that?” you shook your head “mind reading me some of your texts?—  is it poetry?”

    You smiled, shy and full lipped.

    Spreading open the book, you flipped to where you had been writing last and pulled it into his lap, careful as to not touch.

    “Here.. it’s kind of morbid but..”

    “Yeah, hush. No self deprecation, that’s my thing. Let me make up my own mind about it.”

    You chuckled but conceded.

    “MJ?”

    “Mary jane.”

    You chuckled at the confusion still present on his face.

    “Marijuana.”

    “Ah.”

    You looked on closely, nervous as he read once, twice, three times.

    “You hate it,” you said “I get it, it’s a bit extreme and maybe not what you’re used to but it’s just my thoughts going haywire and shit you know a-”

    “I like it.”

    “Huh?”

    “I like it. Is this how you feel? The PR thing? Everything?”

    “Basically, but it’s just thoughts, words on paper. Emotions. It’s still worth it.”

    He nodded, going back to read it a fourth time.

    “It’s unusual, I’ll give you that but, it’s .. beautiful in it’s strange way.. and very- very relatable,” he looked up, face suddenly so earnest and open it was almost startling “especially the last part,” he huffed and a hint of bitterness momentarily crept into his voice  “I can safely say I know what it’s like to feel like there’s a flaw in my code..”

    A breath. Shaking himself out of it.

    “I don’t really write myself but, I can see myself in this. In your texts. A lot of this- I mean I’ve had similar thoughts,” he smiled.

    The hard air around you grew thick, hanging around your heads like cottony molasses. You looked up from your text, eyes scanning the shape of him. Something urgent took root somewhere close to your solar plexus.

    “Can I touch you?”

    He was stock still for a moment or two, but then he nodded.

    You scooted a little bit closer, your movements slow and cautious; tentative. The back of his hand was a contrast of soft and rough against your palm. Soft hairs and raised scars.

    A deep yet quiet groan sounded from somewhere buried inside him —  you looked up just in time to see something in his features breaking.

    “Is it too much? Should I stop? I -”

    He shook his head.

    “No.. please.”

    Your heart sped up — a cassette set on fast forward. You opened the cuffs of his sleeve and set to gingerly and very slowly roll them up to his elbow. His breathing turned heavy and deep: an odd mixture of tension coupled with relief.

    Stretching your fingers you splayed your hand out over his skin, calmly stroking: his hand, wrist, forearm. You were so close now, so near, the warmth of him was a tangible thing against your exposed skin. A crescendo beat hammered in your chest.

    “Can I kiss you?”

    Surprised, you met his gaze. Abalone shells, sea glass beneath water, thunderclouds and liquid silver and every other simile that came to mind and none of them did his eyes justice. A chilled tingle enveloped your skull and flooded down your spine. You nodded.

    “Let me.”

    You slowly moved, put your hand on the side of his neck, revelling in the sigh you got in return, gasping when he mirrored you.

    His lips were dry, plump, warm. A soft cushion against your own. You opened to let his lower lip in between yours, letting your tongue taste for the first time. Salt and metal, twilight and heat.

    His metal arm came up behind your back, pulling you in with a metallic whirr until you were flush against him, and you gave out a sharp whine.

    He immediately let go.

    “Shit! Did I scare ya? I didn’t think—”

    You blinked at him, then heat flushed your cheeks.

    “Yeah, no.. not what happened, Barnes.”

    He quirked an eyebrow, and you simply grabbed his arm and put it back around you, allowing a tiny moan escape your lips to get your point across.

    The chuckle that elicited from him was deep and disbelieving.

    “Better than scared I guess.”

    “You guess?”

    He grinned and surged back to claim your mouth; the smile growing against your lips genuine enough to taste.

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

can i req an autistic joger fic where one accidentally harms the other while having a meltdown and tries super hard to make it up to the other? kinda reflecting here, sorry

There’s fire everywhere and I can’t breathe and I can’t feel but I feel everything and it all hurts and everything hurts. It hurts it hurt it hurt it hurts. 

There’s blurs of lights and crashes of thunder and there’s so much pain in the air I can smell it and there’s a sea on my face and it stings. 

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

Red. So much red! Like fire. Fire on my arms.

There’s so much of everything and nothing at all! My throat is frozen and nobody is helping me!

Nobody at all.

♚

John took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he steeled his nerves. He let go of the puff of air, eye’s opening even though he wanted them to stay shut. 

Before him was a volcano. He first took in the screams that fell like ash around him. Deep guttural screams that were dark and clung to his skin, making it crawl. 

Next was the lava, slowly pooling onto the ground. Strands of blond littered the floor, burning into the carpet of their bed room, making an ever growing puddle around the volcano himself in the middle of it all.

Roger sputtered and shook, paced and thrashed. He squealed and howled as he threw the bedside lamp onto the floor, the glass shattering making John jump.

A fist pounded onto his chest, his red, tear streaked face letting out another wail. Before his mouth could close, it latched onto his scarred forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh with a chilling squelch. 

John had no idea what had happened. He didn’t know what triggered this. He’d went out to get some groceries, buying Roger his favorite brand of crisps and when he came back, all he heard was ear curdling chaos from upstairs. 

He thought he might have stepped on those crisps when he dropped everything to run to their room.

It was a sight he rarely ever saw. 

Of the two, John was more prone to melt downs. Roger for some reason was able to handle most things with nothing more than a smile. It was something John admired. It wasn’t something either of them were able to control, but John thought it must be nice to never lose control. 

Losing control every blue moon meant things built up, though. Roger’s meltdowns were intense and most of all, dangerous. 

There was blood smudged around Roger’s mouth, his arm trickling with some more. He didn’t notice. 

He had hair fibers all over him and a bald patch to show it. 

John bet that once this was all over and he was in the bath, he’d find bruises on his battered lover. 

But how to make it end was the question John had to deal with now. It wasn’t like he dealt with this often enough to consider himself an expert. Everyone’s meltdowns were different. The off switch was like a snowflake. 

Roger screeched, fists flying to his black and blue forehead, smacking against them. 

John had to act quickly. There was absolutely no letting this run it’s course. Roger was in pain. The thought made his stomach shrink.

“S-Sweetheart. Roger. Do you hear me?” John said, taking cautious steps closer to Roger. He didn’t want to startle him. He knew when he had a meltdown, every movement terrified him. He wondered if Roger was the same. 

♚

Brain’s on fire. Burning. Burning. Smoke everywhere.

I’m drowning. I can’t think I can’t see I can’t do anything.

I hurt so bad. Everything is pain. 

I can’t stop myself.

I’m not myself. I’m not myself.

Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop

♚

Roger didn’t notice John’s approach, yelling as he tore off the bedsheets and crumpled them to the floor. 

John swallowed hard. He’d never done this alone. He hoped he was strong enough. Physically and mentally. 

“Roger, please. Y-You need to calm down. I can help. We can go somewhere else. To the bathroom. You like the echoes, remember?” he said, skirting even closer to Roger. 

John knew during meltdowns, most people couldn’t process speech. And he wasn’t sure if sound was the reason for Roger’s meltdown. But what else could he do? He could only try to diffuse this. Before Roger would need stitches. 

Roger hunched over, arms wrapped around himself in a hug, sobbing so hard he gagged. John took this as the only opportunity he’d get to overpower Roger. 

He closed in, hands hooking around Roger’s waist. Maybe if he could drag him into another room, change the scenery, the environment, he’d start to settle down. Maybe.

But Roger was much stronger than John, Much stronger. 

His skin cringed before he ripped John’s arms away from him. The only thing John remembered was how Roger’s blue eyes looked so scared. So lost and confused. Like a little kid who’s just lost their parents in a store. 

He didn’t even notice Roger’s mouth latching onto his hand, ripping into the flesh of his palm until his brain caught up to what was happening. With a small gasp, he yanked his hand away, Roger’s saliva making the wound immediately start to sting. 

John stared down at his hand as Roger stalked off to continue going through possibly his worst meltdown.

To be honest, John wasn’t a fan of pain. 

To be honest, John didn’t know how to handle pain.

If we’re being honest, John panicked.

He walked stiffly into the master bathroom and locked himself inside. 

It was clear he didn’t know what to do. If anything, he agitated Roger more. He felt miserable for leaving Roger alone when he needed his help the most, but his brain froze. 

At least in the bath, he could still hear Roger. Make sure he was safe. That was all he could do and he felt horrible. 

It was an hour before things quieted down. John heard very soft crying and whimpering, and panting that eventually slowed. 

John opened the door just a crack and then all the way.

The pillows were torn at the seams, feathers coating the floor and bed. The bed was pushed off the bed frame. There was a hole in the wall by the door. And amongst it all was Roger curled up into a ball, face pressed into the carpet.

John crossed the room, making his presence known to the other as to not spook him.

With his hand throbbing, he knelt by the pile that was his boyfriend and said,

“Roger, honey. You’ve done so well. You’ve gotten yourself out of that so well. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you now,”

Roger shakily looked up, wet lashes and glassy eyes breaking John’s heart. John wiped away a tear and kissed his forehead gently.

♚

John poured a cup of warm water over Roger’s tender head as the blond sat in the tub, knees hugged to his chest. John hummed softly, massaging away the dried blood, kissing each bruise and washing every cut. It was all he could do. He kept thinking that.

“You can sleep after this, Rog. I’ll make you some dinner for when you wake up. Bought you your favorite crisps. You deserve them,” John said, making small talk as he scrubbed Roger’s back of all the sweat. The tub water was soapy and pink. 

He used his other hand to lean against the tub and it skidded over some soap. The open wound on his palm stung when it touched soap, causing John to pull back and hiss. He inspected it for a moment, knowing he’d have to go to the hospital eventually, but hid his hand, not wanting Roger to see it. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have to know.

But Roger was sharp. Even in this state. He snatched John’s hand into his own, pulling it close to himself. His words were still jumbled and coming back, but he was able to squeak, “Me?!”

John pulled his hand back, shaking his head. “No. Not at all,” he said, eyes falling towards the floor. He was a bad liar. Roger knew that. And he didn’t believe him. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, bruised forehead resting on his knees. He couldn’t hide the little cry that escaped his lips.

♚

“Does it hurt?” Roger asked as he held John’s hand, calloused fingers soothing down the wrinkled bandages. 

John shook his head, scooting closer to Roger on their bed. The sheets smelled like detergent. 

“Nope. The doctor cleaned it up, gave me a shot and bandaged it. Can barely feel it,” John said, his eyes crinkling into a smile. 

That was another lie. When John hurt, that’s all he could think about. But what good did it do to tell Roger? As long as he himself didn’t have a meltdown over this, it could be his little secret. 

It’d been a day since the incident. Roger was still recovering, barely able to leave the bed, so John joined him whenever he could.

“How are you feeling?” John asked, freeing his hand so he could brush some locks out of Roger’s face. 

Roger bit his lip, staying quiet for a moment. His mind raced with answers but he only said, “It doesn’t matter,” before resting his head against the new pillow, pulling the covers over his chin. 

John sighed. Roger wouldn’t let this go. He’d been apologizing all night and all day for the bite. He couldn’t get over what he’d done.

And although John didn’t hold an ounce of contempt for what happened, Roger kept beating himself up. He couldn’t be consoled. 

John slunk down so he was face to face with Roger.

“I always hurt people during my meltdowns. And I feel bad, but, I know I didn’t mean it. I..have to be kind to myself,” John said, reflecting on how sometimes he’d lunge at people unknowingly when he was in that state. 

“Yeah, but you’ve never left a mark. You slap like a girl,” Roger said, the last part a slip of the tongue. 

John would ignore the insult and continued.

“And? I’ve hurt the people I love. Whether it scars, it’s all the same, isn’t it? And they forgive me. You forgive me. Every single time. You say you’re not even mad. And that makes me feel so much better. So good. Like sunshine in my tummy. Why won’t you let me do that for you?” John said, a finger from his wounded hand stroking Roger’s still reddened cheek. 

Roger’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the touch. 

“I don’t deserve it. You,” he said, leaning more and more into John’s hand.

 “You do,” John said, Roger’s warm breath tickling his nose. 

“I forgive you. Forever. For always. I love you, Rog,” John added, closing the gap between them with a soft kiss to the lips. 

Roger resisted at first but eventually melded against John’s plush unbruised lips. 

“I love you, Deacy,”

“I love you, Rog. And I don’t slap like a girl,”

“Shh, shh, we’re kissing,”

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Tale of Tales Chapter 31

Lucy woke up really early the next morning. It was still dark out and the sun had not yet risen. She saw that while Erza was still sound asleep Natsu was awake also. He was sitting by a fire he had started staring at that golden slipper he always kept with him.

"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" She asked him.

"And what if I am?"

"You really think that you're actually going to find her?"

"I know I'm going to find her."

"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if she only came to that ball to have a fun time. Not seek out a husband or gain your admiration?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't want to be found and maybe she doesn't return my feelings. But I have to find her, I have to know her name, I have to tell her how I feel."

"Are you even sure that you love her? You don't even know her. You can't love someone you don't know."

"Why are you so against my love for her?"

"Because I don't think what you feel for her is real love. Pardon my boldness your highness but I think you're delusional. You need to forget this mystery dream girl and move on to a girl who actually exists."

"Oh now I see what's going on. You're jealous."

"What?!"

"Can't say I blame you for falling for me. I am a dashing prince."

"Ugh! You're more delusional than I thought. As if I would ever have feelings for an arrogant, conceited, spoiled little rich boy like you!"

"Hey you're no picnic either sweet heart! You're bossy, demanding, and difficult! I don't think I've ever met a more insufferable woman!"

"Insufferable?! How dare you!" She took some mud into her hands and flung it into his face. "Honestly how on Earth were you born a prince?! You have no manners, no humility, no respect, and no-"

But she was silenced by Natsu throwing mud straight back into her face.

"You had that coming doe eyes." He said.

She only threw more mud at him, soon the two were in an all mud slinging war that went on for hours and eventually their anger was forgotten and they ended up having fun. By the time sun rise had come they were both covered head to toe in mud and dirt. Before continuing with their journey they took separate turns bathing in the spring.

At last they reached the end of the astral line. At the end of it was a large oak tree that had no leaves and looked as if it was ready to wither away and die.

"So end of the line huh?" Natsu said.

"Levy must be around here somewhere." Lucy said.

She began to search around the tree for any indication that could lead her to Levy. She then spotted a marking on the tree that resembled a key hole. She leaned over and placed her fingers on to the mark, as soon as she touched it the gold key in her pocket started glowing. She pulled the key out and looked at the mark on the tree that looked like a key hole. She brought the end of the key toward the mark and to her surprise it went right through it. She stuck the key further in, turned it three times, and the tree opened like a door.

At once something flew out from inside and took the form of a petite but pretty lady with shimmering wings on her back. Her short blue hair was decorated with daisies and she wore a dress that appeared to made from gold and silver leaves. For a moment she stood perfectly still as if she was trying to make sure that she was actually here. She then turned to Lucy, gave her a big smile, and flew in to hug her.

"Oh Lucy look at you!" She cried cheerfully. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. My how you've grown, you're the image of your dear mother."

"So you're Levy? You're my fairy godmother?" Lucy asked.

"Yes and I can't thank you enough for freeing me. Oh how I've waited for this day. At last it's here. I'm finally free!...Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Now that I've been freed it's only a matter of time before it finds out."

"It? It who? Or what?"

"I'll explain later but right now we need to go somewhere it's eyes can't see. Hurry now!"

"Wait what about my friends?"

"Oh you didn't come alone?"

"Hi we're friends of hers." Natsu said.

"Excuse me Levy was it? What's going on? Why do you look so frightened?" Erza asked.

"I haven't the time to explain it now. All of you follow me quickly." Levy's wings started to flutter as she levitated off the ground. "Oh I've missed flying so much."

Lucy, Natsu, and Erza followed Levy as she flew toward a cave and inside was a tiny house.

"Alright now everyone in." Levy said.

"You want us to go in there?" Erza said skeptically.

"Yes."

"But it's so small." Lucy said.

"Of course, it makes it harder for that horrid thing to see it that way."

"But aren't we a little too big?" Natsu said. "I mean how are we supposed to get in?"

"Oh sorry! I forgot!" She stuck her hand in her dress pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and silver dust which she blew on to them, causing them to shrink and be transported into the tiny house. She then dropped some of the dust on to herself and came in after them. "There we go. I apologise for it being so snug in here, I normally don't have that many people in here."

The house was very small and it was loaded with mountains and mountains of books.

"There certainly are a lot of books in here." Erza observed.

"It's like you have your own library." Lucy said.

"I'm a bit of book worm." Levy said.

"A bit?" Natsu said.

"So Levy who or what was this it you were referring to?" Lucy asked her.

"The evil spirit in the mirror." Levy said. "It knows everything and it sees everything. There a very few things in this world that are unknown to it and very few places where it's eyes do not see."

"What exactly is this thing? And what does it want?"

"Years ago an evil spirit somehow managed to escape from the depths of hell and enter our world." Levy said. "Twisted, vile, and cruel it was. It's soul purpose was to spread chaos, misery, and despair wherever it went. My fellow fairies and I tried to send it back to hell but fairies can only do good magic so with the help of a group of wise men we were able to seal the spirit inside of a magic mirror. Unfortunately, though the spirit was trapped it still had it's evil powers and could use them to manipulate it's way to freedom."

"How?" Erza asked.

"Your aunt Minerva is a prime example Lucy. Queen Minerva did not always look as she does now. She started out as a hideous creature and her own father despised her with every fiber of his being. But her sister, your mother Layla saw past her repulsive appearance and loved her. They were inseparable those two, always together laughing and playing and Minerva despite looking the way she did was a sweet and caring girl."

"Are we talking about the same Minerva?" Natsu asked.

"Yes. Believe it or not she was once very kind and good."

"Why did she change?" Lucy said.

"It happened on your parents's wedding day. Originally your father had been arranged to marry Minerva, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and she was the daughter of a land owner. The marriage would have led to incredible wealth but your father was smitten with your mother's beauty and his infatuation turned to love so he married her instead. Minerva was devastated, in tears she fled into the forest where she stumbled on to the mirror. The mirror promised to make her the most beautiful woman in the world and it did but it came at an awful price. The mirror will grant you what you desire but once it's power touches you everything you see becomes cold and ugly and you only see the worst in people. As the years passed Minerva grew more beautiful but she also grew to resent and envy her sister, forgetting all the love and compassion Layla had given her. The mirror was slowly but surely darkening her heart, but then the kind and good King Hector married her and her envy was briefly silenced until that day."

"What day?"

"Seventeen years ago a child was born into the world, a child who would one day grow up to be more beautiful than even her. Seven years after the girl's birth, Minerva sensed that another was destined to surpass her and her jealousy was reawakened. She seeked out of forbidden book of dark magic and witchcraft which I was planning to destroy but she caught me, stole the book, and trapped me for ten years."

"What exactly is going to happen to her?"

"As her hatred and jealousy grows so does the mirror's control over her. Soon the spirit will be able to escape it's prison and take over her body, using it to once again cause destruction to our world."

"But it can be stopped right?" Natsu said.

"If the mirror is shattered by the only weapon that can destroy it then the spirit will be banished back to hell."

"Okay so what is this weapon?"

"I do not know it's exact name. No one does, all we know about it is that it's of ash and cinder on the outside but of the purest gold on the inside."

"What the hell does that mean?" Natsu asked.

"I don't know. It's a riddle that we've been trying to figure out for years but I do know this. The child is now a woman with beauty that far outshines Minerva and if she successfully kills her then that will complete the mirror's corruption. With each evil act she commits it brings her closer to becoming no more than the mirror's puppet and if she carries out that final act it will cement her end and our own as well."

"Who is this woman that she's trying to kill?" Erza asked.

"I don't know her by name, I only know that she has hair as blue rain, cheeks blush as the rose, and skin white as snow."

"Juvia!" Lucy gasped in realization.

"Huh?" Natsu said.

"It's Juvia! She's the one Minerva wants to kill!"

"The princess of Fiore? Are you sure?"

"Yes! Minerva's always been jealous of her! She's the only person she hates more than me! Oh my God we have to find her!"

"I've met her." Erza said. "I know where she is."

"Where is she?"

"Last time I saw her she said she was living in a cottage with three dwarfs."

"We have to get back and find her right away!"

[gdialex]

Hello, Ms. ALEXANDRA TAYLOR. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

alex didn’t break the rules; that was her thing. she always did the responsible thing, the practical thing, the right thing. she was dependable. i.e.: she wasn’t the kind of girl that you’d expect to see being questioned in a police station. maybe that’s why her palms couldn’t stop sweating––or maybe it was because she broke the rules everyday, and she just hadn’t been caught yet.  

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name.

she cleared her throat and wiped her palms on her jeans before quietly murmuring, “alexandra penelope taylor.” she twisted her mother’s opal ring around her finger a couple times, looking up from her hands when the detective didn’t respond. he was looking at her expectantly, pen carefully perched in his hand, so she cleared her throat again and added, “i, um, i’m on the soccer team. my major is biochem. i don’t know...i’m not really that interesting.”   

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age.

“august 29th, 1999––so i just turned twenty.” these were supposed to be the easy questions. she wasn’t sure why she could feel her heart jumping up her throat.   

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

alex shifted in her seat and reached for her ring again, stroking the pad of her pointer finger over the smooth surface of the iridescent stone. “i don’t really see how that’s relevant to morgan’s death,” she mumbled. detective booth gave her another blank stare, and alex sighed softly under her breath. “i’m from here. i grew up with my dad, my sister, and my brother. my childhood was pretty average, you know, peewee soccer, skinned knees, homemade volcanoes...the usual.”   

detective booth arched his brow and stopped writing, “and your mother.”    

alex set her jaw and tried not to look too defiant, “she wasn’t around.” booth started writing, and alex’s heart started creeping up her throat again as she went through every serial killer with an absentee parent in her mind, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. the detective waited for her to continue, but alex kept her lips firmly pressed together this time. she didn’t need to get into her family trauma in order to prove that she wasn’t a murderer.   

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

she wanted to protest the relevancy of the question again, but detective booth didn’t look like he was in the mood for her technicalities anymore, so she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against her chair, “gerty cori, marie curie, audrey evans...” her cheeks flushed as booth cleared his throat, scratching the back of her neck. “i suppose if you meant people i actually know, that’d be my best friend shiloh sinclair’s parents. maura took me prom dress shopping and taught me how to use a tampon, and piers took me to cubs games and taught me how to fish.” she smiled a little at the popsicle-stained memories and bit down on the inside of her cheek,  “...and shiloh, too. he makes me a better person. he makes me want to be good enough to be his friend.” she forgot for a moment that she was talking to the man investigating shiloh’s dead girlfriend’s murder. she quickly wiped the dopey, lovesick smile off of her face. 

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals?

“i want to be a surgeon. ideally, chief of my chosen field.” alex smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders slightly, “i’m kind of an overachiever. i already have a ten-year plan set in place, so i don’t really need to worry about how i’m going to reach my goals.”  

Q: How would you describe yourself?

alex blinked a couple times and chewed on her bottom lip. she hated that question with every fiber of her tiny being. she knew what she wanted people to think about her, and she knew what people actually thought about her––but she had no idea what she actually was. she’d been playing pretend for such a long time; it was hard to remember which face was real.  “responsible,” she finally said, brushing her fingers through her hair, “and tenacious. i’ve been told that i’m more than a little stubborn sometimes, too.�� 

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University?

detective booth’s impatience be damned, alex sighed and pursed her lips, “i really don’t see how this is helping you figure out who killed morgan. i play soccer––does that make me a killer? do all psychos have a penchant for futból and science, or are they more into golf and chess?” 

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid.

alex had to put a lot of effort into not looking guilty, into not thinking about the bottles of pills stuffed underneath her nail polish drawer. for someone who lied all the time, she was really bad at it. “coach would kick my ass if i jeopardized state.” 

detective booth narrowed his brows, “is that a no?”

she narrowed her brows back at him and met his gaze, keeping her chin steady, “that’s an emphatic and resolute no.”  

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between. 

she bit down on the tip of her tongue to keep herself from letting out a large groan. he was almost as bad as the shrink her dad made her see after her mother left. “i’ve been kind of seeing this guy. it’s not serious––and i really only have one friend. shiloh’s been my best friend for as long as i can remember. he’s the only person i can count on no matter what.”    

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst? Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie?

arching her brows, alex drummed her fingers on top of the interrogation table. she hadn’t been sleeping well, and she was beginning to let her irritation get the best of her. “are you using psychology as your main source of evidence ?? because it’s totally bullshit. you should really get your forensic team in here to ask me relevant questions that could actually catch a killer.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish? 

alex folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, snorting, “has that ever actually worked for you?” detective booth didn’t look impressed, so she sighed and added, “no. of course not.” 

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

it didn’t seem wise to mention all the ways that morgan had ruined her life before she was murdered, so alex twisted a strand of her hair around her finger and said, “we met on the cheer squad freshman year. we were friends, good friends. she kind of took me under her wing.” it wasn’t a lie. she just...wasn’t telling the complete truth.    

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic?

“like i said, we were friends.” she paused at booth’s almost isdecernatble frown, “we sort of drifted apart the couple months before she...passed on.” 

the sound of his pen on paper was really doing a number on her heart-rate. “define drifted apart.”

“it’s pretty self-explanatory, and it happens all the time. life just got in the way, and we didn’t really have much in common after i quit the squad.” 

“except her boyfriend.”

alex’s eyes went sharp for a brief moment before she painted a docile expression on her face,  “we were all good friends, yes. ask anyone. we used to hang out together when i wasn’t too busy at the lab or with homework.”

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

“she was...unforgettable. a real force of nature, you know?” that wasn’t even a lie. it was one of the many things that alex was jealous of. it was no wonder why people gravitated to her. she had her own gravitational pull, and alex would always be stuck in someone else’s orbit.   

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“depends on the day.” she tried for a wry grin, but detective booth didn’t look convinced, so alex added, “if it weren’t for her, i would’ve have met a lot of the most important people in my life.” she also wouldn’t have lost a lot of the most important people in her life, but that seemed irrelevant.   

Q: What was your favorite thing about her?

“she was brave. she did whatever the fuck––sorry, she did whatever she wanted, and she didn’t care what people thought about her. i really envied that about her.” saying something nice about morgan left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she covered it up with a soft smile. for the first time in her life, alex was grateful for her baby cheeks. people always said that she had a trustworthy face. 

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her?

“she...could be insensitive sometimes. she didn’t think about other people’s feelings when she really wanted something.” or ever. 

Q: Where were you the night of her murder?

“i don’t really remember. probably studying––i’m always studying if i’m not at practice or the lab. it’s probably a safe bet that i was with shiloh, too. do people actually remember where they were on a random day of the week almost a year ago?” 

Q: Where were you the day before?

“like i said, probably studying. i don’t really have much of a life outside of my major and soccer.” 

Q: Where were you after?

alex just stared at him for a long time before he started writing again, hopefully picking up on the fact that she ,,, uh ,,, didn’t fucking remember. 

Q: How did you feel about her passing?

“it was a tragedy,” alex repeated the party line numbly, flashing back to just after she found out. truthfully, she wasn’t sure how she felt. maybe she was a little relieved––happy, even––but mostly she felt sick, so fucking sick at the thought of being turned into someone that could be happy about the death of a person she once knew.    

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot.

alex winced as she pictured all the blood and swallowed hard, curling her fingers into her palms. “i think...that no one deserves to die like that...no matter what they’ve done.” 

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died?

alex looked around the room wildly until her eyes landed on a very old picture of herself. she looked younger (( if that were even possible )) and frowned at the thickness of the folder. “i, uh, i just told him that i don’t know. i mean, i don’t remember. it was a long time ago.”   

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

dropping her head into her hands, alex massaged her temples and closed her eyes to keep the migraine forming at bay. she could really fucking use a pill right now. “like i said before, i was probably studying. maybe i was working in the lab. i’d have to ask my boss for the schedule––if she even kept the schedule from last year.”  

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

“of course not. i rarely drink, and if i do i don’t get drunk. i’m not a moron; i have a lot of plans for my liver.”  

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“maybe my co-worker steven rich...if i was studying, i might’ve been alone.” 

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

“you can ask me as loudly as you want; that’s not going to magically make me remember a totally insignificant day.”

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false. 

“only six? i’m shocked. morgan knew everyone on campus. did you even check the greek life roster?”  

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan?

alex’s smirk faltered for a moment, and she absently started drawing little circles on her kneecaps. the last thing she ever said to morgan was that she hoped that she dropped dead. sometimes, she still felt a little guilty about it. “probably that i’d see her on campus,” she finally said in a small voice.  

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before?

she gaped at the detective for a moment and then shook her head, “of course not. she would’ve kicked my ass.” 

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan?

“...friends fight sometimes. it’s not that weird.”  

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan?

alex would actually say that she never felt more unsafe than when she was around morgan, but she absolutely did not say that. instead, she said, “i don’t...i don’t really feel completely comfortable around anyone.” her lips twitched into a soft smile, “except for shiloh.” 

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan?

tilting her head slightly, she pursed her lips together and shrugged her shoulders, “i wouldn’t be the person i am today if i hadn’t met her.” and who didn’t love being riddled with carefully implanted insecurities?  

Q: Do you own a gun?

“what? no. i’m very anti-gun, did you know that in switzerland––” 

Q: Have you handled a gun before?

she glared at the detective as she was cut off and tossed her hair over her shoulder,  “obviously not.” 

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun?

“i’m pretty sure the president is carrying. why don’t you ask him if he shot morgan. he has quite the temper.” 

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

alex snorted and glanced down at herself, “yeah, ‘cause i look like the kind of person that thinks they could take someone in a fist fight.” she rolled her eyes as the detective waited for her to actually answer her question, “no. i’ve never gotten into a physical altercation––unless you count the time some girl broke my nose on the field, but i’m pretty sure the definition of fight entails that i fought back.” 

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death?

“like i said about ,,, uh ,,, seven times, check with my boss. i’m pretty sure that i was working. her name is professor stroud.”

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die?

“no, of course not.” they really didn’t have the time to get into a deep discussion on the ethics of death, did they? because alex had some complex thoughts on the subject.

Q: Do you wish she was still alive?

“i don’t know.” alex let out a dramatically wistful sigh and shrugged her shoulder, “maybe she’s in a better place.” 

Q: Do you miss her?

she blinked, surprised at the instinct to say yes, and chewed on her bottom lip. there was a time when they had been close. morgan was...awful, you couldn’t deny that, but she also had a way of making you feel incredibly special sometimes just because she was putting up with your miserable existence––or maybe that was just alex. “more than i ever thought i could.” 

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“i don’t know. it’s just different. different different.” 

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you?

“that’s an extremely illogical question, and i refuse to answer on behalf of rationalists everywhere.”  

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

she wiped the sweat off of her palms onto her jeans, “nothing pertinent to the investigation.” 

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time?

“yes.” 

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“no.”

[mygiantesslove]

Family Foot Slave (Part 4)

Mandy . . . Mandy Myers was a beautiful sophomore with short blond hair and almond blue eyes.  Beneath her right foot dwelt the miserable shell of a person, her ex-boyfriend.  She and Melanie walked through the hall to the lunch room. “So, I’ll tell my mom that I found Sean licking my shoes, and that I put him in one of them and came to her as soon as I could.  So during last hour, we’ll swap him, alright?” Melanie said as she explained her plan. “Sounds like a good deal to me.  Oh, he feels to neat in my shoe.  He’s not struggling much though,” Mandy said. “He’s probably pretty tuckered out.  I’m sure his family has really worked him over well this weekend.  If my plan goes right, his mother will let me and my mom have him overnight to discipline.  Then I’ll convince my mom to let me have him, and I’ll come over to your place, and we can just totally humiliate and torture him.  That will be so much fun!” Melanie exclaimed. The day wore on long for Sean.  Not knowing whose foot he was under kept his mind running through a variety of scenarios as to who it could be.  One thing he was certain was that the smell of his assailant’s foot was very strong through the tan nylon mesh that rubbed his body raw.  Each step she took crushed the air out of Sean, and reminded him that his freedom was taken away by his desire to be a slave to women’s feet.  Tears streamed down his face, and his cries were muffled because his face was repeatedly pressed into the ball of this giantess’ foot. Right after the last hour of school, both Mandy and Melanie snuck into the girls’ bathroom.  Mandy had been able to keep her identity a secret.  When she went to go retrieve Sean from her shoe, she lifted the heel of her foot out of her shoe, and pressed down very hard on Sean as she dragged her foot towards the middle of her shoe, and then pinched his head between her thumb and index finger, smothering his face, and dropped him nonchalantly into Melanie’s waiting black flat.  Sean flew through the air into the hot insole, and his head was wedged beneath Melanie’s foot.  The light quickly disappeared beneath Melanie’s all-too familiar foot.  Her arch pinned him tightly against the unforgiving, sweat-soaked insole of her black flat.  Her tan nylon rubbed into him painfully, like Mandy’s nylon did.  The odor filled Sean’s nostrils with her pungent, fragrant, sweaty foot.  There was little that he could do, but decide to try to enjoy the odor.  But just as he was getting aroused, Melanie began to walk, and she walked right to her mother’s office. ******************* Forty-five long minutes had passed.  Joyce, Mary, and Melanie had had a long discussion.  Melanie had explained to them that she found Sean licking her shoes during last hour, and that she had no idea how he got there.  As a result, she knew to put Sean in her shoe, and after last hour brought him to Joyce’s office.  Mary was infuriated—not at Melanie, or even Sean for that matter—at Kim.  Kim was going to be punished, and Joyce provided her the materials to do it.  Mary had agreed that since Sean “wanted Melanie’s feet that badly” he should be punished by them for the rest of the afternoon and night, and in the morning, he would be given to his sister Jennifer.  They were all in agreement, except Sean.  He had no idea what was happening, as he spent the entire time in Melanie’s shoe.  Melanie was so happy, knowing that she was going to get to torture him with his ex-girlfriend. Mary arrived at her house and walked in to the living room.  There, Kim was bawling her eyes out, holding her sandal in her hands “I don’t know where he is,” she said through the crying. Mary walked over and slapped her hard across her face.  Kim went sprawling from the couch onto her face on the floor.  Mary walked over and placed her foot on the back of Kim’s neck, pinning her to the floor.  Mary was wearing a jean skirt, yellow shirt, white socks, and dirty white canvas Keds. “Remember what I said!?  If he escapes, you take his place!  So, now you will be my foot slave until we find Sean, is that understood!?!”  Mary showed no mercy.  She removed an eye dropper full of the shrinking antidote and shoved it up Kim’s nose and squeezed.  Kim choked on the feeling of liquid being squirted into her nose and hitting the back of her throat, and by reflex, swallowed the entire dose.  Mary did the same thing with a second antidote, the fluid that helped its victim be able to withstand the painful crushing.  Kim kept crying and passed out as she shrunk, disappearing into her clothes. Mary bent down and found Kim in the middle of her shirt, unconscious.  She grabbed Kim’s clothes in a ball and stood up.  Mary then dropped Kim into her pocket and proceeded to throw Kim’s clothes into her room.  After she recomposed herself after losing her cool, she proceeded to her kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to drink.  While downing her drink, she felt a struggle in her pocket.  Kim had come to. Meanwhile, Melanie had proceeded to Mandy’s house.  She walked in and the girls proceeded back to Mandy’s bedroom.  Mandy had changed clothes, and was now wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and her patent black flats without nylons. “So, what happened?” Mandy inquired. “They totally bought it!  I told them that I found him licking my shoe, and that I just put him in my shoe so he couldn’t escape and brought him to my mom.  Mary was happy to let me punish him overnight.  I don’t have to be home until 10, and it’s only 4 now.  When do your parents get back?” Melanie inquired. “Not till late . . . sugar,” Mandy said with a seductive smile.  The two locked lips and embraced for a few minutes.  Both girls sat on the bed and kissed seductively.  While liplocked, Melanie slipped off her shoe and set it on Mandy’s lap.  They stopped kissing and looked at Sean. Sean lay very still in the sweaty, smelly insole of Melanie’s shoe.  He was exhausted and his body hurt all over and even more so when he tried to move.  He opened his eyes, which burned from the sweat, and realized who he was looking at.  Mandy’s smile widened as she noticed the fear that simply looking at the diminutive form of her ex-boyfriend instilled in him.  Without saying a word, she picked him up and put him in her mouth, sucking on him and enjoying the taste of Melanie’s foot that he had absorbed.  She then proceeded to get on her knees, grabbed Melanie’s nylon-clad foot, and began to suck on her toes, rubbing Sean with her tongue against them.  Melanie closed her eyes and laid back on the bed, enjoying the feeling that Mandy was applying to her foot.  She spent about fifteen minutes sucking on Melanie’s wonderful toes.  Sean hated every bit of this, as he was soaked in Mandy’s saliva, and his body rubbed raw from the nylon mesh, adding to his misery. When Mandy was finished, she spat Sean on the ground and began stomping on him repeatedly with her shoe.  She smashed him into the carpet like she was putting out a cigarette.  Slowly and painfully, she ground and ground him, burning his body on the carpet fibers.  The girls couldn’t hear it, but Sean was screaming as loud as he possibly could with the limited oxygen in his lungs.  After a few painful minutes, Mandy moved the heel of her shoe on to her victim, and resumed grinding him with all of her weight for about another minute. Melanie grabbed her purse, and pulled out two joints and a lighter. “Care for a hit?” she asked Mandy. “Love one!” she excitedly replied.  She lifted her shoe off of Sean, who was crying and convulsing in pain.  She picked him up and put him back in her mouth, and grabbed a joint from Melanie, and proceeded to light up. Sean lay on Mandy’s sticky tongue.  He noticed a very potent influx of smoke.  Mandy just inhaled the smoke, and let it sit in her lungs and mouth for several long moments, which is all it took for Sean to get buzzed.  Everything began to move very slowly for Sean, and it wasn’t long before he completely passed out. When he came to, Sean found that he was completely restrained, except his head.  He looked down at his body, and was able to tell that he was covered by a skin-tight covering.  He heard laughter and the sounds of kissing.  Then whatever he was bound to was picked up, and he was looking at Melanie’s smiling face. “You always were a dick, and now, you’re on one,” Melanie quipped.  Sean had a puzzled look, and then realized that he had been placed on a dildo, and covered with a condom.  Apparently, there had been a small hole for his head to be pushed thru.  Melanie opened her mouth and began to suck on the dildo, enveloping Sean quickly in her mouth.  After a few moments passed, she pulled him out of her mouth and was lowered to a horizontal position.  Mandy’s crotch was waiting. Back at home, Jennifer walked in from hanging out with some of her friends.  She said hello to her mother and set her book bag down on the floor, and noticed a tiny slave licking the toenail of one of her mother’s big toe.  Jennifer then noticed the longer hair of the slave, and realized that this was her sister Kim at her mother’s foot. “What happened?  Why is she shrunk?” Jennifer inquired. Before answering, Mary pinched Kim’s head in between her big and second toe, and curled it under her foot, enveloping Kim’s head tightly, and squishing her beneath her foot. “Sean escaped from her sandal, and I’m punishing her” Mary said calmly. Jennifer had a surprised and alarmed look on her face. “Don’t worry, I know where he is.  Melanie found him licking her shoe and trapped him in it.  But because he escaped, and I warned Kim about losing him, I shrunk her.  She doesn’t know that he’s been found, so don’t tell her.  You can wear her all day tomorrow, and Melanie is supposed to turn Sean over to you, too, tomorrow.  Wear one in each shoe, and yes, you can wear them both during the volleyball game,” Mary said with a smile. Jennifer’s smile widened as well.  “How long is Kim going to be shrunk?” “Probably until Saturday.  You can have them both during Homecoming.” Jennifer thanked her mom and proceeded to her room.  She lay down on her bed after kicking off her shoes, dreaming about Friday night.  The personal pleasure, and the potential torture she had planned for her siblings was all coming to her mind. It had been the longest hour Sean had ever had to endure.  He went back and forth between Melanie’s and Mandy’s crotch, trapped on this dildo, and bringing both to fruition a multitude of times each.  They were finally done, and getting themselves dressed, leaving Sean to lay on the dildo on the bed.  Mandy administered one more humiliation—she grabbed her camera and took a multitude of pictures of Sean in his current predicament, and threatened to post them on her myspace account if he failed to do what she told him whenever they saw each other next.  Melanie pulled the condom off the dildo, which reapplied a variety of the girl’s juices, as well as the spermicidal fluid from the interior of the condom to Sean.  Melanie then laid him down in the insole of her shoe, and with little care for her slave, slipped her shoe on, kissed Mandy a long kiss goodbye, and proceeded to her car. When she arrived home, Joyce wanted Sean to sleep in her slippers again, and Melanie handed him over.  This time, Sean slept nestled under Joyce’s smelly toe crevice, where she scrunched him for a long time to make him experience a very intense orgasm before she headed to bed.  Having been forced to release the load that had built up during his evening with the girls, Sean slept painfully at the toes of her captor. **************************** The next day, Melanie wore Sean in her black felt Mary Jane’s that had a bow on the forward part of the shoe.  She wore black nylons and a green skirt with matching top.  She bound his arms to his side with tape, and had a strip of tape around his knees as well, should he feel ballsy and try to escape in some way.  She also had carefully applied a strip of tape over his mouth, forcing him to inhale her fragrant feet.  She scrunched him often during class with her toes, keeping him erect most of the time.  However, she never allowed him to come to fruition, as she would squeeze him tightly with her toes for several minutes.  The feel of the nylon on Sean’s already battered and bruised body only added to the miserable conditions he was enduring in the filthy, smelly shoe that Melanie’s foot inhabited.  The rubbing on his manhood was the only form of any redemption this situation provided.  Sean was getting used to the constant game of arousal and denial when Melanie’s foot left her shoe, causing a sucking sound in the shoe and allowing some much appreciated cooler air to flow in.  Sean was also blinded by the bright light. He then felt some commotion and noticed a finger grip the inside of the heel of the shoe, and then some rapid ascension.  Sean began to slide down the slippery insole towards the finger, as the shoe was tipped up.  He landed with a thud to the sound of a chuckle that was all too familiar—his sister Jennifer.  He was then dumped into Jennifer’s waiting hand. “Thanks!  He looks really miserable.  I can’t believe he was licking your shoe yesterday!!?” Jennifer exclaimed. “Yeh, he confessed to me that this ‘torture’ is only making his fetish stronger.  I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I stuck him in my shoe; figured that’s what he really wanted,” Melanie replied. “Well, I think he’ll change his mind after tonight,” Jennifer said, looking down at her brother with a smile. “Are you going to wear him during the volleyball game?” asked Melanie. Jennifer shook her head, then got up from the desk, clinching her fist around Sean tightly, depriving him of the oxygen that was in his lungs.  She proceeded to the girls bathroom.  She had met Melanie briefly in a classroom during lunch for the exchange.  Jennifer checked beneath the stalls to make sure no one was there, then proceeded to take a seat on a toilet and closed the door.  She opened her fist and looked at her bound brother. “I know how much you like this.  Mom thinks this’ll make you better, but I know better.  I know you want my feet, don’t you?” Sean shook his head emphatically ‘no’. “Don’t lie to me.  If you didn’t like this so much, you wouldn’t have been licking Melanie’s shoe.  I mean, seriously, she’s one person who you know won’t help you.  So, I’m going to ask you . . . do you want me to put you in my nylons?  Under my nylons?  Or under the sole of my shoe?”  Jennifer watched his reaction to the question.  He just lay there like a broken captive.  After a few moments, she answered for him. “So, under my shoe?  That’s kind of a strange place.  You like being crushed don’t you?  I just happen to have some tape right here in my purse.  By the way, you got Kim in a lot of trouble.” Jennifer removed her left shoe and showed Sean a helplessly bound Kim thoroughly taped to the sole of Jennifer’s black patent-leather flats with a lacey bow on the toe as well.  These shoes were well worn by both Jennifer and their mother.  Kim was screaming and crying through the tape that covered her face.  She was having a very hard time dealing with being an inch tall.  Jennifer had her taped in a crucifix on the shoe sole, and used plenty of tape.  Jennifer didn’t want to end up like Kim—a family foot slave.  She slipped the shoe back on, forcing Kim to be crushed as she crossed her right leg on top of her left leg.  She removed her other shoe and laid it sole-side up.  She gently placed Sean on the shoe’s sole, positioning his head and chest to be right beneath the ball of her foot.  With his already bound position, he offered very little resistance to his sister.  She placed several overlapping strips of tape on his legs and abdomen.  She tried to make it as tight as possible.  She purposely left his dick and balls exposed however, and nudged them for a few minutes to get a response from her slave.  Then came the tape over his face and head, which completed the tape-cocoon.  The smell of scotch tape was very strong and the chemical smell was making his stomach churn.  That however was the least of his problems, as the obscured vision of his sister was quickly turned over and replaced with the quickly-approaching cold tile of the women’s bathroom.  It was very dark, and the cold of the tile shot through the tape.  He heard the sounds of a high pitched squeal from his left.  Then, surprisingly, a ton and then some of pressure came from behind him, forcing the valuable air from his lungs, and causing him to black out quickly. The afternoon was long and hard on both Sean and Kim.  They were often awake during the classes that Jennifer attended.  She often propped her feet up on the book shelf of the desk in front of her, using the wooden slats to torture her siblings even more by slowly dragging them down over them.  For Sean, she was able to apply an even more unusually cruel punishment by simply rubbing her shoes on the carpet, pulling and yanking on his exposed cock and balls.  They were reddened due to the abuse and torture Jennifer was applying.  For Kim, she would focus on trying to push her throat against the wood slats, choking and depriving her of even more precious air. In between classes, while Jennifer walked the halls of the school, Kim and Sean spent that time crushed and blacked out usually.  They typically stayed awake for the first few steps, but not much beyond that.  Jennifer was also careful to make sure she felt the bulges that her two bound slaves caused beneath each step.  The power she enjoyed over her younger siblings was intoxicating and arousing.  When 3:30pm rolled around, Jennifer walked out on the hot asphalt, which did tear into the tape, but not enough for freedom, only to apply additional dirt and extreme heat to their insulting existences.  Sean came face to face with his big sister’s gas pedal, while Kim was pressed into the dead pedal on the left.  It was a long 15 minute drive home, as Jennifer was pretty heavy footed for a 5’6” girl driver.  Her Camaro roared down the highway toward their home. ****************** Jennifer sat on her bed, changed out to her volleyball gear.  She looked at the pathetic excuse that was her brother and sister, still taped to the soles of her dress shoes.  She noticed very slight puffs of condensation on the tape as she watched their naked forms ever so slightly raise and lower the tape.  She was contemplating what to do with them for the volleyball game that was a little over an hour and a half away.  She laid Kim’s shoe off to the side and with her right index finger began to tap on Sean’s exposed manhood.  She smiled as she saw him attempt to quiver and squirm from the pain.  This continued for several minutes, much to Sean’s dismay, while she thought of a new torture for her slaves.  Then it finally dawned on her to use her work socks from the previous weekend, and sew them up like she had done to Sean on Saturday. She undid Sean’s bindings, and even the tape that had bound his arms and legs that Melanie had applied earlier that morning.  Sean moved very slowly in the palm of her hand.  Jennifer showed a little mercy allowing him to go free for a few minutes unbound and unmolested in the palm of her hand.  Sean felt pain shoot all through his body at every joint and muscle.  He curled up into a fetal position and cried from the pain.  Jennifer reached down and pinched his head between her index and thumb and held it for a while, stating that she’d let go when he stopped crying.  A minute later, lacking oxygen, he passed out with his head being squeezed between her fingers. When Sean came to, his arms and legs were already sewn into place on the foul-smelling sock.  Jennifer was applying a few strands of thread  crisscross across his shoulders, across his chest, and to the opposite side of his stomach. “PLEASE, PLEASE!!!!  LET ME GO!!!!” Sean exclaimed, which was barely audible to Jennifer.  She smiled as she tied a strand of thread around his throat, which ended his whining very quickly. “I’ll be nice, and only attach two strands of thread to your throat, but as a trade off, I’ll make it a little tighter.” Jennifer chuckled as she anchored the strand up to around the toe area, and then proceeded to do so with a second strand.  Sean was again crying, knowing the crushing steps that his sister was about to administer.  He felt the warmth of her foot fill the sock, and the sounds of the sweat-encrusted sock strands stretching filled his ear.  However, Sean noticed that he wasn’t beneath her heel, but beneath her arch.  The strands around his throat were very tight, and his neck was painfully stretched again as Jennifer sat back and flexed her toes. “I don’t want you to pass out so easily this time, so I’m going to let you enjoy the space under the arch of my foot,” she explained.  She stretched her toes several times and enjoyed watching Sean’s face turn purple before letting go.  She did him the honor of slipping her athletic shoe on so that he could get used to the foul odor that was going to combine from her sock and her sweaty, well-worn volleyball shoes.  Jennifer tied the shoe tight, and then turned her attention to her little sister Kim. Sean’s face was pressed into the smelly, foul cloth of his sister’s shoe insole.  The pressure was all around him, as his body was stretched out from being bound to her sock.  Thankfully, she wasn’t pulling on the threads around his neck yet, but he knew there was little time before that would start.  It was pitch black in the shoe, and in the silence, the reverberation of Jennifer’s heart beat sounded like a pounding hammer in his head.  He also noticed that it seemed slower than his, and guessed that it must be a result of being shrunk down to an inch.  Then he focused on the smell.  He closed his eyes and breathed in deep breathes of his sister’s foul foot odor.  To his dismay, he was becoming aroused by it.  For a foot, it was very smelly, and the fact that this foot was dominating and torturing him with virtually no effort at all added to the arousal.  He turned his head to the side in disgust with himself.  How could he allow himself to be aroused by both his sister’s and his mother’s feet?  What was wrong with him?  He thought to himself that this was going to be his existence—a slave to his family’s feet. Kim didn’t take too well to being bound to Jennifer’s sock.  Not only did she tie three strands around her neck, she also put several threads on either side of her mouth, creating a binding that gagged her.  Jennifer then tested her torture by flexing her toes.  The gag in Kim’s mouth caused her jaw to dislocate, and screams and tears poured out of her when Jennifer released the flex.  To quell her crying and screaming, Jennifer flexed her toes back, strangling Kim and causing her to stop screaming.  Jennifer held Kim there for about 30 seconds, then released, watching Kim huff and puff for air and then resume her crying.  She then flexed her toes again, administering the strangling torture to Kim again, this time, holding it for about 50 seconds, stretching Kim to her limit.  Again Jennifer released and the threads around Kim’s neck relaxed some. “Okay, last one.  You’ll wake up in my shoe after this Kim.  Hope you like,” Jennifer said teasingly.  Her toes again flexed upward, pulling on the threads, and causing Kim’s jaw to further dislocate.  Jennifer noticed that Kim’s mouth was open exceedingly wide, but didn’t think anything of it.  She kept her toes flexed backward for over a minute, and noticed Kim’s body go limp, having passed out painfully at the unmerciful foot of her giantess sister.  She lowered her foot down and inserted it into her shoe, where she tied the shoe up very tightly as well.  Jennifer noticed the time and figured it would be about right to go to the gym to begin warm-ups.