#i had a new one shot idea that hit my brain like a bolt of lightning and i actually think maybe theres something there worth pursuing

[clowningcrows]

there may actually be an anderperry one shot coming up soon yall....

[thebaddestofbatches]

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

[andypantsx3]

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate​ for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

[lookwhattheydonetomysongma-blog]

I have a little over $300,000, in cash stashed and hidden away. It’s not for a rainy day. It’s not for a whole new face or body or a trip to Italy for three months. It’s for the rest of my life. The life I’ll have after I kill my husband and leave forever. Of course I can’t tell you where I’m going or what my new name will be, that’s just the right amount of info to get me caught. But I do want to share my story, so I’ll have to open up a little.

We got married 10 years ago this September. We used to be so in love, and then; we weren’t. One day I came home and as I hung up my keys and took off my long brown boots I walked into the kitchen to see my husband and a long gangly blonde. Not just their hands but their lips were intertwined. My husband opened a curious eye that landed on me standing there in awe. His whole body shot back like a bolt of electricity just hit him. It was at that point my eyes blurred and everything went hazy…

“Rebecca what are you doing home, this isn’t what it looks like, she’s my new assistant Tiffany I told you about”

The world felt like it was rolling over and I was about to fall.

His words were glazing over my brain like a thick coat of gooey frosting. I wasn’t even hearing him.

After a few seconds of standing there.

I nodded my head up and down like I understood.

I understood perfectly.

I understood that the last ten years of marriage and the two before that of dating now meant nothing. I understood that the man I thought I was sleeping next to every night was not the man I thought he was. He was slime. He was not even a man. Just an idea now. A failed idea.

I made my way to our grand staircase.

I remember when we bought this monstrosity of a house and I thought of all the possibilities that would be our family and our life together. But now I just dreaded having to walk through it. He was still talking trying to explain his way out of it but there was nothing to explain, nothing I needed to hear. His new assistant started a month ago and all of those late nights at the office I realized were not filled with work but rather pleasure. I had wondered why we had stopped having sex and why he was so quick to sleep and turn over at night. I understood now.

I understood everything perfectly now.

I think he expected more of a reaction from me but I couldn’t help it; I had fallen silent and had no words for him.

I went upstairs and locked our master bedroom and drowned myself in blankets.

I can’t believe what a fool I’d been. That’s what every woman thinks when this shit happens right?

I hated feeling like a fool. I was always the smart one of my family. The most resourceful, the best at school and very successful in my field of work. I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. All because of one man and his inability to keep it in his pants. I remember his personalized wedding vows. It Made me sick to think about now.

“I will always be yours faithfully…”

He quoted that cliche song and I remember thinking about that word faithfully a little too much. Why would he choose those words? Maybe because he knew that would be his biggest problem.

The next few weeks went by were a blur. After moving into a motel he was sending me flowers every afternoon. He was calling and texting apologizing everyday. I never really responded just more nodding.

A few months before everything happened I had watched a series on deadly women. There was one woman who killed her husband with a poison from a flower she grew in her garden. She watched him eat dinner that night for the last time. There was another woman who hired a hit man but she was arrested when the hit man was caught. And a third woman who took her husband to a tropical vacation and that night when he was alseep she bludgeoned him with a rock from their ocean front walk out patio she then began hitting herself multiple times until she was so bloodied she couldn’t see out of one eye. Then she ran from her room wildly screaming for help. And she got away with it, until she cracked from the guilt and confessed to police. I couldn’t stop thinking about that last woman she had almost a perfect plan. But then ruined it for herself.

Finally one day I called him and said I wanted him to come home. I told him I forgave him and that I knew I held some blame because I knew we hadn’t had sex in a while. I told him that there was nothing we couldn’t get through. And that night he was back in the house. He told me he was done with the girl and of course I smiled and nodded.

We had sex that night and he fell asleep facing me this time not turned away. And I lay awake. I lay awake and I watched his breathing. Slowly his lips would let out a slip of breath and I couldn’t help but cringe.

Of all the lies I told him today the sex was the biggest lie. It took every inch of me not to attack him and rip into his skin. I wanted to maul him to death. But instead I had kissed him, gently and softly. I did this so he would never expect what was coming to him. So that what would happen next, would hit him like a fucking freight train. Just like it hit me. Some people say revenge is a dish best served cold. You could say some people have experience in that area. And as I lie here this night watching his silly little breath slip in and out, you could even say I’m about to be very experienced in that area.

[stargazingthenightaway]

See Something You Like? Part 1

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, Oral (female receiving) unwanted attention (not from main character) Dom!Rex

A/N: So I’ve decided to write a few, but what I thought would be a one shot has turned into this monster, so I’ve decided to break it down. Not sure how long it’ll be, but I get the feeling it’ll be at least 3 parts. This is inspired by @samrubio art especially her Rex pieces, go check it out! Also, if I missed any warning tags, let me know :)

It was a rarity for the firing range to be this empty. Usually it was crammed to the walls with training drills for new recruits, post mission vent sessions with the faceless targets or if you were unlucky, the cocky fly-boys trying to one-up each other, seeing who had the better ‘blaster’. If you were really unlucky, instead of leaving, their attention would turn to whoever they thought would enjoy their company, which consisted of what barely passed as a conversation before leading to the real objective, servicing the dangly bit between their legs. Their limp pick up line “I’ve got another blaster you can handle sweet cheeks” was in just as much need of an overhaul as their piloting skills. Sadly, you’ve been on the receiving end of these lack-lustre ‘invitations’ far too often and are quick to shut them down. It’s become so repetitive you can time it to the second when they make their appearance. All these boys are the same, give them a flight suit, a ship and they think they’re the Maker’s gift to the galaxy. 

‘They’re just so immature’ you think to yourself, a scowl on your face. Your last rebuffed fly-boy hasn’t gotten the memo that you’re not interested and continues to pester you. As if you’d want to spend 30 seconds listening to a dying bantha grunt into your ear, fumbling to get himself off and counting down until you’re smothered in dissatisfaction. Hard. Pass.

The only reason you have some peace is because they’re out on a mission, but you will take the reprieve. It’s a joy to have an opportunity to fit in some blaster practice without an audience. While you weren’t the worst shot in the rebellion, you certainly weren’t the best, but with enough practice you hope you’ll be placed on some off-planet missions. 

Sliding into an empty booth, you pick up one of the safety helmets, placing it on your head and type in one of the easier simulation codes on the keypad on the side of the wall. As the program calibrates, you remove the blaster from its holster on your thigh, flicking off the safety and settling into your stance. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot. This mantra helps get a rhythm going and soon you’re oblivious to everything around you except your target. The steady stream of blaster fire rings out, mixed with the sounds of high tings for each successful hit and clunky thunks with each miss. It’s pleasing to note that with each round there are more tings than there are thunks. Soon you’re drifting off with the repetitive movements, your thoughts going through your encounters with him.

Captain Rex, member of the Ghost crew and key participant of the rebellion. A legend in his own right. You had first seen him in passing, bringing up some data pads needed for a debrief and you just happened to look in his direction as you were leaving, and stars did you look. He was thick everywhere. His armour did nothing to hide his size as your gaze travelled from his barrel chest, to his thick waist, finally ending at his powerful thighs. Rex has the kind of body that makes you want to rub yourself all over him like a nexu in heat. As he spoke with Agent Fulcrum, Rex crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his shirt tight over his biceps, and your mouth watered. You were so busy ogling that Rex had finished his conversation and looked over your way.

Seeing you staring he gives you a small smirk and a wink before mouthing “see something you like?” You swear he flexed his arms a bit as he did that.

The smirk on his face grows as you feel your face heat up, hightailing it out of the debriefing room and making your way back to your office. It’s quite a while before your blush goes away, and more than one person asks if you’re feeling well. 

The next time you saw him was a bit more hands-on and it still makes you clench your thighs together when you recall this particular memory. You’d been paired as sparring partners, and if you thought Rex looked good in his armour, he was downright edible stripped down to a simple training shirt and grey sweatpants. The shirt stretched in all the right places and the pants were loose enough to provide movement where it was needed, but just snug enough to tease you about what he was packing.

You were so distracted that he easily put you on your back, repeatedly. Each time he knocked you over his thighs would bracket your own, your hands pinned by your head and the rest of his body caging you in. How in the Sith hells were you supposed to concentrate if this was exactly where you wanted to be! You clawed at whatever self-restraint you still possessed to not rub up against him, but maker he made it difficult. 

After the final throw Rex settled on your thighs and smirked down at you “What’s the matter mesh’la?” He took in your flushed cheeks, “You seem distracted, I didn’t think you’d take everything I gave you so easily.” 

Your face was on fire, your brain traitorously giving you ideas of what else you’d take from him, and how well you’d enjoy it.

“Surely you can get me on my back.” You eyes snapped up to his, “all you need to do is use your hips and thrust.”

Fuck.

You felt yourself get wet as a throb built up between your legs from just his voice alone. You needed to finish whatever this had become so you could finish your own needs, preferably in the privacy of your own bunk. With a strength that surprised even you, you took Rex’s advice to thrust your hips up, bracing you leg to provide enough leverage to push him over. The look of surprise on his face that you took his words to heart was something you would never forget. 

As you settled over his waist, his hands came up to your sides, sliding down to rest on your hips, keeping you in place. 

“Knew you could do it” His surprise had turned into a beatific smile, looking up at you as his hands squeezed your hips. “Good girl.”

The triumphant words die on your lips as you look down at him and see exactly how you’re positioned. Your hands are braced on his chest and your thighs have splayed out to the sides to fit over his waist. There is a pleasant ache along your inner thighs from the stretch. If anyone saw the suggestive scene of the pair of you right now, the gossip hotline would be buzzing for months. You made a motion to move but Rex’s hands keep you snug against himself. His thumbs had made their way under the edge of your shirt and traced light circles over your skin. Arousal flooded your veins and you felt your slick starting to soak your panties. 

You look back up to Rex’s face and he tightens his grip “See something you like mesh’la?”

Before you could answer the door burst open, causing the two of you to startle, zoning back in to the present. Chatter filled the room as Wolffe and Gregor brought in the next group of ‘shinies’ for sparring practice. The bubble of intimacy had burst and you hurriedly got off Rex, babbling some thanks about the advice before bolting out of the room. That was six weeks ago, the Ghost having left on a mission, taking Rex with them.

The buzzer in your booth goes off, signalling the end of the simulation. You’re not ready to head back to the responsibilities of intelligence just yet, so you up the intensity of another exercise and when you’re happy with your rhythm, let your thoughts turn back to Rex. 

He’d become the prominent figure in all your fantasies. Before that, neither your toys or your hands would work to get you off, leaving you frustrated and horny. In a fit of desperation you thought back to your spar, but instead of sitting on Rex’s waist you were sitting on his face.

You imagined how his arms would wrap around your thighs, muscles flexing to make sure you stay exactly where he wants you to, and that’s on his tongue. Moans fill the room as he slowly eats you out, long licks up your folds to harsh sucks on your clit. The vibrations from his groans sending you spiralling to the edge, only for him to back off when you’re so close, leaving you sobbing and trembling with need. He’d leave little nibbles and bites along your inner thighs as he waits for the trembling to stop, and his beard, fuck. Rex would nuzzle the side of his face along your legs, leaving more marks that you were his. Letting you know that he was the only one that could give you the satisfaction you craved. You’d squirm, just to feel him tighten his hold, knowing that he controlled your pleasure. 

“Look at me,” he’d growl before licking up your slit, drinking you down, “want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum on my tongue.” This sends another rush of slick from your core, the feeling in your belly coiled tight, waiting to snap. You yelp as there’s a sharp bite to your thigh.

“You like it when I tell you to watch” Rex grins from between your thighs, and you can see the evidence of your arousal glistening on his beard. Stars that is hot. There is a feral look in his golden eyes “Next time I’ll make sure to fuck you in front of a mirror, show you how wet you get for me.”

Your needy whine of approval turns into a lascivious moan as Rex plunges his tongue into your heat, rapidly bringing your orgasm back to the edge, but this time he doesn’t stop. His tongue speeds up, alternating between fluttering around your opening and pushing in as far as he can, nose pressed into your clit. All too soon you’re flying over the edge into sweet oblivion.

With a choked scream you cum, legs clamped tight around Rex’s head, his arms pulling you closer as his tongue working furiously to collect everything that you give him. He groans in delight and that sets off another small orgasm which has you seeing white. When you finally come down from your high you look back down at Rex, a blissed out expression on your face. 

Rex has to practically lift you off him, moving you down so that you’re straddling his waist and conveniently nestling his cock between your folds, and that’s another part of him you’re all too eager to get to know. 

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, Rex puts a hand around the back of your neck, pulling your closer. You don’t need to be force sensitive to feel how smug he is, it’s written all over his face and the possessive arm draped around your waist. 

He nuzzles your nose when you’re close enough, before whispering two devastating words “Good girl.”

A blaring sound yanks you out of your daydream, and you realize that you’ve stopped shooting at the targets. The noise is the warning alarm that the simulation will shut off after 30 more seconds of inactivity. What it is is an inconvenience. You slam the pause button a little more forcefully than you need to, too riled up from your own fantasy simulation. It seems to have worked a little too well, judging by ache between your legs. 

Putting the safety back on your blaster, you drop it onto the shelf in front of the booth opening. Thinking back, there was something in Rex’s eyes as he called you “good girl”  that you can’t quite put your finger on. Discovering that you enjoyed being praised was one thing, but it seemed that Rex was holding something back, something that had to do with that phrase. Not knowing what it was set you on edge, that it could be something about you and that feeling didn’t sit well. 

There was just something about him that makes you crave his attention, wanting to please him so he’d call you “good girl” again. You shiver as you think about how he looked between your thighs, how wide you had to stretch to fit him between you legs. 

You groan to yourself, knowing you’re well and truly gone on this man, and that you’d let him do whatever he wanted, just as long as you could be his good girl. You lean forward against the small shelf, burying your head in your arms.

“Fuuuuck me.” 

“Am I interrupting something, mesh’la?”

To be continued

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them? 

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.  

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.  

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi​

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (31)

Author’s Note: Surprise readers! I wanted to celebrate the start of Spring Break (a very much needed break) by posting an update sooner than I expected. Also, it’s double the length, too. It’s practically two chapters in one!

Thank you always to my loyal readers. If I do not get back to you, please know that I see every review, every comment, and every mention. I am grateful for all of you!

Also, I have had a few readers tell me of songs they associate with A.S. and I just think that is so cool, because I too, connect music to books and fanfics that I read. I’d like to make a list of all my readers’ songs that they think fit A.S. and share them on my next update as the “soundtrack” for this story. Please let me know yours in the comments or through message.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30

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Chapter 31: Not Enough

Sakura spun the sword, adjusting it on her left forearm as she pivoted on her heel to bring it around her in another protective arc. The blackness that hovered before her again instantly shielded her enemies from view which could be considered both advantageous and disadvantageous for her.

For the first, Mako and Hisa immediately rushed forward, using the ninjutsu as a cloak. They crisscrossed her, one taking a swipe at her from the front right and the other coming from the left. When Hisa’s blade came from the right, Sakura’s first instinct was to dodge and strike her foe in the side with her fists as she passed. But with her chakra currently restricted, Sakura ducked, pushed up on the handle of her assault weapon with her forearm, and brought her own blade naturally to Hisa’s right flank as she redirected the attack. Sakura hissed in disappointment because the cut was interrupted when she retreated and the result was shallow, not slicing deep enough to incapacitate her. When Hisa took a step back, clutching her flank, Mako suddenly appeared like a breaching shark from the deep only inches before Sakura’s face. He kicked her, quite hard, and Sakura fell into the sand, her weapon tossed aside from the blow. She scrambled for it as Mako grabbed hold of her ankle. She kicked free of his hold, but he was upon he, knees straddling her, and Sakura had no choice but to turn and face him.

He cuffed her hands above her head, saying quietly, “Don’t make this difficult! You will lose your life if you continue to resist. They’ll kill you. Stop struggling!”

Sakura cursed herself for drinking that damn tea, because if she had chakra, she would headbutt his face so far back into his skull that the impact would instantly kill him. Hisa’s face suddenly appeared above Mako’s rights shoulder.

“Killing her is the only option. We don’t have time to hold her hostage,” she chastised Mako with venom in her voice. “We have to get back to base quickly with the news of her death.”

“We could use her. She’s too important to kill immediately.” Came Mako’s response as he sat down hard against her bucking legs.  

“We don’t have time for this! The drug effects won’t last on her all the way back to Tanigakure!”

Perfect, Sakura thought. The confirmation she had been looking for. They were in fact the same party of ninja who had attacked her and Sasuke on their journey to Suna. Sakura still wasn’t entirely sure just how many belonged to their group.

“Reach in my pocket for the second dose. We will knock her back out if we have to!” came Mako’s reply, but it was too late. Sakura had been calling, calling, calling her chakra to her wrists this entire time and used that small amount of sudden strength to overpower Mako’s hold, swinging her arms quickly back down to her sides which caused Mako’s own arms to follow. His head hit the ground to the left of her neck and Sakura immediately rolled him, bestriding him the same way he had just held her.

Hisa didn’t hesitate a second as her weapon came swiping horizontally across Sakura’s back. Sakura predicted this and used Mako’s struggling momentum to once again roll him back on top of her. The blade bit into the flesh of his back and he screamed. In the same moment, Sakura used the last of her strength to wedge her knees between herself and Mako’s chest, shoving him out and back toward a surprised Hisa. They both fell tangled back into the shadowy mist, hitting sand somewhere out of sight.

Within seconds, Sakura scrambled toward the lost weapon and the sword she had dropped was within Sakura’s reach. But when she fisted the pommel, a foot stepped down on the blade. The black mist cleared to reveal the eyeless depths of the shadow demon above her.

“Enough of this,” he hissed. Shadows leaked from his eyes, down his face, and crawled down his chest, legs, and over the length of the weapon, icing Sakura’s fingers when they touched the handle. Sakura immediately recoiled in pain as her fingers turned a sickening black. She screamed, backing away from his advancing figure, hand tucked protectively in the crook between her arm and side.

Rage more than fear boiled beneath Sakura’s skin. What sick ninjutsu was this? It reminded her of a combination between Zabuza’s Hidden Mist technique and Shikamaru’s Shadow Control. But the damage was entirely unexpectedt, as if the shadows inside his body were made of a poisonous substance that bleached out the life of whatever it touched. This phantom before her controlled darkness directly, thickening what already existed in the air around them, and then leaking black chakra directly from his body which destroyed whatever came in contact with it. Like the shadows of death itself, Sakura was certain it had stollen all life from her immovable hand.

Sakura cursed and bolted to the left, seeking out the jagged rocks that she had created earlier. She had to test a theory. Sakura slowed as she clutched her hand, listening, keeping an eye on her feet at all times in fear of creeping black, knowing the phantom would pursue.

When his steps came closer, Sakura turned and faced him. A chakra-manipulated path cleared the darkness between them, allowing the two ninja to see each other in the surrounding haze. This confirmed one thing for Sakura: no one, including the ninja user himself, could see through the darkness he created. That was good to know.

Just one more thing then. She waited and the shade sneered as he approached. When he came withing a few feet away, shadows reached for her like grasping fingers. Just as she had seen Temari do all those years ago during the Chunin exams, Sakura backed away until the shadows stopped and retreated back into the skull of the demon who had projected them. She drew a line in the sand, confirming the distance of ten feet between them.

Ha. She thought to herself. Just like Shikamaru’s justsu then. Similarly, it had a limited reach, although it was much shorter than Shikamaru’s range and didn’t seem to be able to use the shadows in the air around it to lengthen or widen. It explained the purpose of the shadows in the air though; the phantom ninja needed to be in close range where individuals couldn’t see the approaching black tentacles of death.

Sakura scoffed. Apparently, this ninja couldn’t measure up to Shikamaru’s intelligence either, considering the fact that she had just figured out how his ninjutsu worked.

There was only one problem, though. Sakura was a close-combat shinobi as well, and her number one battle technique was her chakra enhanced strength. She needed a plan that would allow her to take a different approach.

She ran and her attacker pursued her, thickening the air before her but leaving the trail behind her completely clear.

Suddenly, Mako’s words from earlier came back to her, which gave Sakura an idea. It was the only thing Sakura could think of. She doubled back to where Mako and Hisa had been disposed. She followed the blood in the sand to the precipice of a jagged chunk of earth. When she came upon Mako, Sakura noted that Hisa was already gone, having abandoned him immediately. Hisa was probably blindly searching for Sakura among the shadow-cloaked mountains of ground and sand.

Sakura didn’t have much time. She placed her hand over Mako’s mouth so he wouldn’t scream and give away their location; not that it would do much good. If the phantom had room for a brain somewhere next to that pit of darkness in his skull, he would follow the blood as she had, or trace her tracks in the sand.

Mako, laying on his bloody back in the sand, shot his eyes open when Sakura’s hand pressed down hard on his mouth with her black hand. It was barely more than a useless appendage at this point, but with the help of her good hand, Sakura shoved her fingers in his mouth to silence him. He tried biting them, tearing into her blackened flesh. But Sakura couldn’t feel them at all, the deadening so complete that Sakura was afraid she would never regain use of it again.

With her free hand, Sakura searched Mako’s person. Her hand fisted triumphantly in his back pocket around something long and cylindrical. She pulled it free, praying frantically that it was what she theorized it to be. Bless you for being thorough and for telling me you had it, she thought to Mako as she surveyed the capped yellow injection tube. Whether it was Ashuwa or a second dose of whatever he had put in her tea, Sakura didn’t know. But whatever it was, Mako had revealed its purpose to Hisa which was to incapacitate her again once the current drug in her system stopped working.

Mako squirmed beneath her and Sakura contemplated killing him right then and there. But she just didn’t have time. Lucky bastard. She sprinted from him, the phantom stepping over the boulder in the same moment she darted from the concealed spot.

Did he see what she grabbed? Sakura wasn’t confident but couldn’t stop to try to interpret the eye-less facial expression the ninja wore. Remaining hopeful, she kept running.

Spotting a smaller set of tracks in the sand leaving the location, Sakura followed them, tracing them all the way to their source. When Sakura came upon Hisa, she almost collided with her directly, the blackened air only revealing her in the last second. Hisa didn’t even have a chance to react before Sakura uncapped the needle and dispensed a third of the dose into her neck, enough for her weight. The woman dropped to the ground and Sakura thanked Mako again for designing the perfect drug. Sakura didn’t estimate that she would remain unconscious for long, though, not having the full dose.

Sakura moved quickly. There was only a matter of minutes before the phantom caught up to her once again. Sakura quickly removed the cloak from Hisa’s shoulders and wrapped Hisa’s face covering around her own. She picked up Hisa’s small rapier from the ground.

She turned and walked toward the approaching footsteps, using the black at her back to her advantage this time, thankful for once that it would conceal Hisa’s body completely.

When she came into his view, the ninja balked, taken aback at her familiar presence. “Hisa?” came the hissing whisper. Sakura kept her head down long enough. Long enough to come parallel with him and turn the blade to relieve him of his head.  

He ducked as Sakura knew he would. Dropping the shortsword, she came back toward his face with the hidden syringe in the same hand. Like with Hisa, she caught him in the neck with the needle neck, and his black sockets widened as she fully pressed in the plunger.

Deathly black shot out of his eye sockets, gripping her remaining hand with blackness as it traveled up her arm. She cried out in both pain and fury as the medicine injected into the demon’s skin. He screamed and she pulled away as he dropped to his knees.

His consciousness remained momentarily, and Sakura turned, arms limp and useless from damage like Orochimaru’s had been. Turning, Sakura found the sword she had dropped. Bending down, she gripped it between her teeth, the taste of metal and sand coating her tongue. It tasted so, so sweet in that second.

Like another mist demon she remembered, Zabuza Momochi, Sakura wielded the blade between her teeth and pivoted to face this monster who was solely responsible for torturing Isao, spreading hatred and pain, and most of all, underestimating her.

Sakura would never be weak enough that anyone without substance, anyone who couldn’t consider themselves subpar to a legendary Sanin, could dispose of her easily. She didn’t need abilities. She didn’t even need chakra to make it out triumphant in these futile attempts on her life.

“You will regret your choices,” the phantom hissed disorientated. “The next generation won’t be able to handle what is coming.”

Sakura began to advance toward him, ready to mimic Zabuza’s killing blows with a fang-wielded blade. When she reached him, she glared down at him, bloodlust in her veins.

“War is a good thing. Anger is a tool to be used. Vengeance is necessary to strengthen.”

Sakura gripped onto her own blood-bent mind, talking to herself as she looked at this man…beast…whatever he was. And as she had done with Satou, Sakura now too, thought of Sasuke. A person so wrapped in darkness that the darkness presented itself in his very nature.

“You, like everyone else, deserve mercy,” Sakura announced after she dropped the sword from her mouth. Sakura had once blamed herself for being too weak to kill Sasuke, but in this moment, Sakura had an enlightening clarification. When someone so vile deserves death and you can find it in yourself to drop your too-ready hand of justice and offer them a second chance—that is real strength. It’s what Naruto would have done. It’s what Sakura chose to do now.

The man slumped forward, eyes level with the blade that stuck up from the sand. “You will see one day that I am right,” he hissed in finality.

“You have us confused with one another,” she announced to the fading darkness that began to disintegrate into light, the final sign signaling his unconsciousness. Sakura could just make out the sunrise in the east and it was beautiful, pale, and rosy. Sakura pretended it was her victory banner. She also believed it was a sign of hope.  

………………………………….

The second chakra pill worked another miracle. Sasuke felt replenished as he practically flew across the sand path in Isao’s memory. He had only run this fast a few times in his life and most recently, it was because of this same scenario. Kido, too, had kidnapped Sakura, and when Sasuke had found out, he had run.

Sasuke cursed himself now for his stupidity. His pride. His mission. He had left in anger and confusion after their kiss, left her alone in Suna despite his promise to never let this sort of thing happen again. Each step he took into the sand was echoed in his mind with an apology. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He lost count of how many times he said it.

Chakra coursed through his limbs and Sasuke mentally prepared himself for war. Bones enveloped his body, ribs caging around him as he activated an incomplete Susanoo. Purple chakra radiated from him, a threatening beacon to the kidnappers he knew would be nearby.

Sasuke instantly recognized the projections of broken ground that penetrated up from the sand like a golden crown. Unlike in Isao’s shadowy memories, the morning light illuminated each pillar, revealing the sheer length and size of every new peak that Sakura had brought forth with her inhuman strength.  Sasuke didn’t even think of concealing his presence; he didn’t need to. He charged into the center of the fray, looking about him everywhere.

He looked behind a few of the crags, eyes finally landing on an individual. Bloody, but not unconscious, Mako lay with his face projected to the sky. His eyes shot open when Sasuke placed a heavy foot on his chest. He wanted to light him up with his Amaterasu and let the flames devour him alive until the ninja was nothing more than the sand beneath him.

Mako groaned and Sasuke unsheathed his katana, stabbing into this ninja’s shoulder. Although he didn’t need to pin him to the ground, it felt good to watch Mako clutch at the blade near his collar bone. The medic ninja was still alive despite his blood loss, but Sasuke relished in the thought that he wouldn’t be for long. Gaara might be mad at him for this later, but Sasuke didn’t care.

“Where is she?” The Uchiha hissed as he sent electricity down the length of his blade into Mako’s chest muscles. He began to spasm.

“Stop!” Mako screamed in pain.

“It will stop when you answer!” he yelled back, losing control of his own emotions. He twisted the metal for emphasis.

“Sasuke, stop!” came a familiar voice and Sasuke’s dropped the blade in shock as Sakura threw her shoulder into him.

“I don’t have enough chakra to spare to heal any more wounds,” she reprimanded him as if she were talking to a patient.

Sasuke blinked in chastisement at the pink-haired woman standing whole before him. He instantly pulled her into his Susanoo, crushing her to his side as he extended the ribcage of the Susanoo to include her. He looked around warily as if he couldn’t quite believe there was no current threat to Sakura’s person. He finally spoke, both relief and annoyance edging his words. “You’re okay?! Where are the others?!”

“I’m fine!” she announced, face suddenly red in embarrassment at their close proximity. Sasuke didn’t notice it at first as he held her back at arm’s length to check her current state. His stomach dropped when he saw her dangling arms, blackened, charred, and bruised. One of them currently had a small halo of green around it and its color paled in comparison to the other.

“Who did this to you?” he rumbled lowly, flashing a red and purple glare back down at Mako, who whimpered pathetically from his wounds. Sakura pulled from his hand and moved in front of the Uchiha, cutting off his direction of blame.

“Not him,” she excused, and her defense thoroughly pissed Sasuke off. Whatever Mako’s role was in this, Sasuke was certain that he was to blame for all of it.

Sasuke did his best to swallow his murdering thirst, eyes landing back on her like a lifeline to his sanity. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered. It was the only words that he could force past his teeth.

“I will explain everything to you, but I need your help first.” She made to step away from him, but Sasuke prevented it. Careful not to aggravate her injuries by touching her arm, Sasuke grabbed her shirt on reflex instead, pulling her back into the safety of the Susanoo.

“It’s okay. We are safe.” she breathed, smiling at him for the first time since he had left her, which brought Sasuke back some soothing clarity of mind. “They are all incapacitated.”

Sasuke’s eyebrow shot up into his bangs. “All of them?”

“It’s insulting that you are surprised,” she nudged him with her shoulder, turning her shoulders to face Mako. She bent to medically assess his new stab wound.

“I wasn’t expecting,” he admitted, but then fell into silence at her targeted look. “I mean, I thought that you were drugged!”

“I am,” she announced, narrowing her eyes further. “But I don’t know how you know that.”

Sasuke cursed at his slip. He couldn’t tell her just yet about how he practically forced Isao to spill all the information earlier. Instead, he said half-truthfully, “I ran into the kid.”

“Isao?” Sakura’s face lit up. “He’s okay? He made it back?” She slumped into the sand at Mako’s side. She practically deflated as her concern for the boy evaporated. “Bless that child.”

Sasuke had to agree. If it weren’t for him, Sasuke wouldn’t have been able to find his teammate this quickly. Even though Sakura hadn’t really needed his help after all. How strange that felt for Sasuke, to not be needed in the ways that he had once been. It was an unexpected jolt to his mindset toward Sakura. She had proved her strength repeatedly to him and he continued to see her as someone to protect.

Before he could even offer an apology, Sakura motioned toward Mako’s body. “My arms are a little preoccupied at the moment. Do you mind flipping him?”

Sasuke’s thoughts instantly darkened at the mention of both her arms and Mako. “What for?”

“I need to look at his back. See how deep the wound is.”

“He doesn’t deserve your help,” he replied instantly, wishing for the ninja to suffer in the same ways he had made his friend.

“I remember a time when you didn’t either,” Sakura replied with a smiling voice, “but I helped you back then, too. Now flip him.”

Sasuke scoffed at her statement, stooped, and flipped the ninja on his stomach. Mako let out a pained groan and Sakura “tsked” at his blatant carelessness. He kneeled beside her, ready to be her hands despite how much he hated the thought of her trying to help him.

“It’s not as deep as I thought. Hold his flesh together,” she ordered and Sasuke did so as she summoned a small stream of chakra to the gray fingertips of her semi-healed hand. The small amount did not last long, but it was enough. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

“Why are you helping me?” Mako asked faintly into the sand, and Sasuke immediately responded for her.

“You don’t need to know, so just shut your mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice.”

Sakura nudged him for his harsh words. “You sure have a lot to say today.” And Sasuke blinked at her again in surprise. She was right; he was talking a lot…for him. He responded with another scoff.

Sakura answered Mako’s question despite Sasuke’s threat. “You believe in war. I believe in peace. We are stronger united than when we are divided. This is how I create peace.”

Sasuke wasn’t following entirely, but he knew that Sakura was referencing words that had been exchanged between them, and Sasuke recognized them as the poison from a mindset consumed in darkness.

Standing again, Sakura said, “The hard part is going to be getting them all back to Sunagakure.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke asked.

“They’re drugged. Not all of them are dead. They’ll wake soon,” she clarified for him.

Sasuke didn’t even think before saying, “I can remedy that.”

She ignored him, continuing, “We might have to make a couple trips. How many can you carry?”

Sasuke didn’t even respond to that ridiculous notion. Instead, he activated his Rinnegan once more, feeding it with the chakra from the chakra pill. A spiral appeared before them, revealing the central red-dune dimension. Sakura didn’t even have time to protest before Sasuke was throwing Mako’s limp body inside the hole.

“What are you doing?” Sakura asked, confused and stunned by his actions.

“They can remain in this dimension until we make it back to Suna. They can’t flee inside. They have nowhere to go.”

Sakura nodded in understanding. “Good idea!” she praised him, obviously relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to carry anyone with her arms practically useless.

“I’ll take you to the others.”

A female kunoichi Sakura called Hisa was the second to be transported to Kaguya’s center dimension. Then a different sort of being Sasuke considered warily. He didn’t look to be human. Sakura explained that he had been the most dangerous of them all. Sakura believed him to be the ringleader, though she wasn’t sure how many group members he truly led. It was still a confusing web of connections.

Sakura left out the fact that this ninja must be the one to have damaged her arms, but no good would come from Sasuke demanding that she confirm that for him. The Uchiha made a mental note of it as he tossed the unconscious ninja inside, already contemplating on ways to make him talk.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“One more,” she replied, and she led Sasuke toward a small adobe house that he hadn’t noticed before. It was alone in the desert, one wall completely destroyed, revealing the building’s stark clay interior.

Just before they reached the ruins, Sakura stopped when they approached the body of a large man. Sasuke was surprised to find this man not just unconscious; he was dead.

“He hurt Isao,” she defended automatically, ashamed that death had been necessary.

But Sasuke didn’t need an explanation from her. If she wouldn’t have, Saskue was pretty sure that he would have killed him. “Let the sand have him,” he declared, but Sakura shook her head.

“He belongs with them. They must be able to bury and grieve to find peace. We don’t want to give them cause for any further resentment.”

Sasuke wanted to say “you can’t be serious,” but he didn’t feel like arguing, because no matter what Sasuke could come up with to say next, Sakura would still be right in the end. She had a bigger vision in mind that Sasuke couldn’t quite connect sometimes. He just knew that he would always trust her to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t sensible, or in most cases, not what Sasuke would have done.

“Fine,” he declared, opening the portal once more. His breathing became labored as he pushed the effects of the chakra pill. Like with the others, Sasuke dragged the man’s body into the portal.

Sasuke also stepped through, leaving the gateway open between realms. He directed his attention to Mako, ice already coating his next words.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t wander too far from this spot. The dimension is endless and not of our world. You will only lose yourself and die in this place.”

Mako swallowed deeply in fear as he watched Sasuke’s form from his stomach.

“On second thought,” Sasuke sneered under his breath. “Feel free.” The portal closed behind the Uchiha as he exited. He would deal with all of them later, he thought. He needed to get Sakura back to Sunagakure first.  

………………………………

Sakura couldn’t help but whimper when her left arm wasn’t responding as quickly to her healing chakra. Her right hand—the very same one she had shoved into Mako’s mouth to keep him from screaming—had almost fully recovered as the medicine suppressing her chakra began to wear off and her healing abilities returned to her. Her left hand, however, was at first very numb, which Sakura knew was a very bad sign. But the longer she worked at healing, the more the pain began to intensify. It was almost unbearable, but Sakura was ultimately relieved at the burning sensation that indicated life. Sakura considered the differences between the two hands and all she could conclude was that distance must have had something to do with it since her right hand had a grabbed the blackened sword at his feet and her left had been near his face when she plunged the needle in his neck.

Sasuke supported her as they walked back to the Sand Village, though he suddenly seemed to her like he was the one that needed supporting. He stumbled in the sand and Sakura removed her good arm from his shoulders.

“I’m good. But are you okay?” she asked, noticing his strenuous breathing for the first time.

“Yes,” he fibbed, and Sakura knew it was a lie the minute he clutched his head to support it.

Redirecting her chakra back to her healed hand, Sakura immediately sought out Sasuke’s brow with her fingertips. He moaned with relief as green chakra lighted over it, but he instantly pushed her hand away. “Heal yourself.”

“What happened?” she responded, ignoring his demand. She found his forehead again. “There’s nothing I can do if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I took two chakra pills. I’ll be fine though. I just need rest.” He removed her hand again.

Sakura inhaled sharply at the confession. “Why did you do that?”

“I had already depleted my chakra reserves when I found out you weren’t in the village. I panicked.”

“Overdosing on chakra pills is one thing,” she scolded, “but using them recklessly to overexert your Rinnegan is another. No matter how much chakra you have, you have limits with the Rinnegan.”

“It was my only choice,” he defended sharply, obviously masking his embarrassment with annoyance.

Sakura placed her glowing palm over his eyes, now certain of the source of his discomfort. Sasuke made to move her hand away once more, but she fussed like a mother when he tried. “Let me have my way, or we’ll be here longer.”

Sasuke released a small laugh that sounded like another scoff. Only Team 7 could tell the difference between Sasuke’s derisiveness and his sense of humor.  Sakura couldn’t believe he had the energy to laugh. But then something changed in the air around them and Sasuke grew very serious as he inhaled—the type of inhale someone made before having something important to say.

Sasuke finally managed to grab her fingers and he tugged them away after Sakura was satisfied with his treatment. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he held them for a moment that suggested tenderness. It was different from how their hands had brushed so many times before, like how they rested them against each other as they watched Suna’s desert sunset. This time, it was more like how Sasuke had held her hand between them in the medicine preparation room.

Finally working up the courage, Sasuke looked down at her feet and said, “I’m sorry.”

Sakura stared at the firm hold his fingers had on hers in wonder. And the truly amazing part was that he stillwasn’t letting go. “For what?” she whispered, not knowing what else to say for fear of him moving away.

“For leaving you behind in Suna. For leaving in anger. For not being there and letting this happen.”

Sakura didn’t let him continue. “Sasuke,” she began, catching his guilty eyes with her own. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I hope I have proved that to you, today. Please don’t burden yourself with worry for me. I can carry my own burdens and some. You already have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Sasuke searched her eyes with his. Sakura knew this was a rare occasion. Not many people would see the Uchiha open, unguarded, with care etched in every feature of his expression.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said suddenly, still holding her fingers tightly, and Sakura felt the whole world suddenly still around them. Even the desert wind seemed to stop. Was this the Sasuke she had always known was inside, no matter how roughly he displayed himself to the world?

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Sakura interrupted, afraid for another impending denial of her feelings. She knew what was coming and she didn’t want this small moment to end. “I won’t do that again.”

He paused and Sakura wondered if he was unsettled by the open acknowledgement of her stollen kiss.

He sighed and Sakura’s stomach dropped. She felt him hesitate, saw it in his face. But he resolved himself, declaring, “I came to a conclusion while I was away, and I have to say this while I have the nerve.”

Sakura nodded, ready for disappointment. She was more afraid of what he would say next than she had ever felt going toe-to-toe with her enemies just moments ago.

“Can it be enough for us to care for one another?” he asked, desperation cloaked with mock annoyance on his breath. “Can it just be enough for us to be friends as long as we are in each other’s lives sometimes? Can it be enough for us to be united in the same goal?”

Sakura’s heart sank and unhappiness hit her like the wave she was expecting. Tears threatened to brim her eyelids, but Sakura swallowed them down. Would he ever not be this thickheaded and stubborn? Would he ever let them be what they could be? Whether or not Sakura was simply high on victory or if she was genuinely losing her meekness in Sasuke’s presence, Sakura wasn’t sure.

She removed her hand from his. “Is it enough for you?” she finally asked, taking a step away from him. But he caught her fingers again, pulling her back gently to face him.

“Is that a no?” he asked emotionlessly, but Sakura saw the struggle in his eyes.

“When the answer becomes ‘yes’ for you, I will accept it as mine as well.” She pulled away, firmly this time. He couldn’t respond. Sakura knew why: he wanted to put this on her; he was always putting it back on her, afraid “because of her,” hesitant “because of her.” These were his excuses, but Sakura wouldn’t give him an out this time. It was his turn to choose.

They both knew that it was far too late for Sasuke to pretend he didn’t love her in the same way that Sakura loved him. But Sakura had learned that people love in many ways and not all people wanted to express that love romantically. Kissing Sasuke had been a mistake. She hated to call it that, but it was the truth of it. She didn’t want to steal from him what he wasn’t ready to give—what he wasn’t at peace with. It was his turn; he now knew where she stood.

………………………………..

When they finally made it back to the Hidden Sand Village, Kankuro was there to intercept them just as Sasuke had expected he would. The puppet-wielding ninja was beside himself with worry at seeing Sakura’s injuries, insisting that Sakura promptly return to the hospital. Sakura had insisted she tend to her own wounds back in their lodgings so she could rest. She immediately requested to see Isao, but Kankuro insisted she get some rest first.

It wasn’t until Sasuke insisted that he have an audience with him and Gaara, that he left Sakura to her own desires. As they parted, Sasuke tried to say something or grab her eyes with his, but she didn’t look at him. Not even once. And Sasuke ran his hand exhaustedly through his hair. He couldn’t think about them right now. A conference with the Kazekage would be the perfect distraction.

Gaara, miraculously, had returned before he and Sakura had, and Sasuke wondered just how fast news could travel. Sasuke privately joked with himself that the desert shared its secrets with the Kazekage. The wind and sand must speak to him if he found out things so quickly. It was a hypothesis that could explain a lot at least.

Sasuke shook his head as he followed Kankuro into the Kazekage’s office. He must be getting delirious from the effects of the chakra pills.

“Sasuke,” came Gaara’s raspy acknowledgement when the Uchiha stepped into the room. Gaara was surprisingly alone, which relieved Sasuke. He thought he would have to face Gaara with the “support” of his council. It would be easier to speak of recent events if only Gaara and Kankuro were present.

Sasuke nodded respectfully despite his feelings of resentment toward the two men at the moment for having let Sakura be kidnapped under their watch. As a ninja that was a part of this unpredictable shinobi world, Sasuke knew his anger was unjustified, but he wanted to be mad at anyone and everyone right now. 99% of his own anger was directed at himself, because Sasuke knew that he was more responsible for what happened than the Kazekage and his brother were. The Kazekage had been trying to be proactive and prevent something like this from happening. It just didn’t turn out that way.

The Kazekage seemed to share Sasuke concern for discreetness, because he cloaked the room in sand as he had done the first day of Sasuke arrival. It filled every crevice, thickening to soundproof the room.

Sasuke opened the portal into Kaguya’s central dimension without further delay. He walked into the vortex, not surprised the group remained exactly where he had left them. The only difference was that they were conscious, a fact that slightly irked the Uchiha.

One by one, he grabbed each ninja, tossing them forward into the Kazekage’s domain. Hisa clutched at her dead counterpart, holding onto the deceased brute. Sasuke found grim satisfaction in Mako’s subdued, yielding persona. Being present before the Kazekage was far more terrifying than being stuck in a desolate dimension.

But the individual that held both Sasuke and the Kazekage’s attention was the wraith-like individual that bled darkness from a small spot on his neck. It was his only injury.

Gaara carefully considered him, crossing his arms and surveying him emotionlessly as he did most enemies that he regarded.

Darkness suddenly began to ooze from the man’s eye sockets and Sasuke’s temper suddenly flared. He looked to Gaara, and the ninja nodded his permission.

“Only demons don’t seem to know when they’re in the presence of other demons. Shall I show you hell?”

Sasuke’s eye suddenly began to bleed as he formed the tiger seal for fire release. “Amaterasu!”

The black flames clung to the phantom, incinerating what Sasuke realized was dark masses of sinewing, vaporized flesh. The phantom hissed. Then screamed, then began to plead for mercy. Hisa began to cry and Mako turned his face away from their leader.

Gaara came up beside Sasuke to speak to the wraith as he writhed. Sasuke released the Amaterasu and the flames receded.

The Kazekage crouched, an arm on his knee. “From one demon to another, I urge you to leave your shadows behind in hell and step out into the light. Only demons desire war. And war breeds more demons.”

Sasuke clutched his eye in silent suffering, and Gaara dismissed him. “I’ll handle the rest. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

Sasuke nodded, not waiting for any further excuses to depart. He had delivered them into the Kazekage’s care. But what those ninja didn’t know was that Sakura’s mercy held Sasuke more confined than it did the Kazekage, a demon just as he had said, whose territory had been breached.

……………………

Sakura was finishing binding her tender left hand in medical bandaging, using up the last of her burn solvent that she had created at Suna’s hospital, when Sasuke walked in.

He opened the door, caught her eyes with his, and tried to hide the bloody track down his face from her with his hand. She was on her feet instantly, pulling him to the bed that he had staked his claim on.

She felt his forehead and it was hot, too hot. He had done it this time. She sighed, summoning the small reserve of chakra behind the diamond mark on her forehead.

She expected Sasuke to scold her for using what little she had left on him, but he didn’t seem to notice in his extreme exhaustion. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Sakura retreated to fetch water for him.

He gulped it greedily and Sakura helped him shrug out of his outer layer of clothing. Sand fell from his hair and clothes in the same way hers had earlier. “I’m better now,” he whispered, the first words spoken between them since their disagreement in the desert.

Sakura nodded, making to move away, but he grabbed her hand for the third time that day.

“Don’t be angry,” he begged, his exhaustion making him suddenly careless to conceal his true intentions with fake displeasure and irritation.

“Why do you think I am angry?” she asked emotionlessly.

“I just want what’s best for you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered in defeat. This side of Sasuke startled Sakura. He was becoming more undefended, open with emotions in a way she had never seen him before. Was it because he didn’t have anything to hide anymore? Was he past his denials and his pretending?

“I know,” she squeezed his hand back. “But your concerns are groundless.”

“Tell me how,” he pleaded.

She sat beside him on his bed, and he tilted his ear to her, never removing his hand from hers. She took a breath and told him the truth. Told him everything he needed to know. “I do not love you sacrificially, Sasuke. I do not choose you knowing that my life or happiness could be forfeit by doing so. I choose you because I can keep up with you. Because something like your absence wouldn’t be enough to determine my permanent happiness. I will choose to go on, content with only the thought that I know you are out there somewhere loving me if that is all that I have in the moment.”

She took a breath and continued before he could respond. “I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way as a result of loving you. And I have absolutely no doubts in my feelings, my happiness, and what I am willing to compromise to be with the person I love most.”

Sakura reached tenderly to turn his face to hers and their eyes met. She touched his forehead in the same way he had done to her many times before. “That person is you,” she reassured him, offering him a sincere smile as she removed her hand from his forehead.

Then Sasuke leaned forward. Very close to her, and Sakura bit her lip to keep from reaching for his with her own. “Is all of that true?” he requested again, suddenly breathless. And Sakura knew later that it was just to be sure before what came next.

“Yes,” she breathed. And she didn’t have to reach for him, because he was suddenly reaching for her. His hand found her chin and Sakura waited for his choice. She waited for him to move. And he did.

“Then my answer is no; it’s not enough for me either.” When his lips carefully parted her own, Sakura knew without a doubt that he had decided to find some way possible for them, a path where he could choose her, too.

[heliads]

Lieutenant Lovesick

Y/N L/N is an officer of the datatech division at the Resistance Base, someone who has an unfortunate tendency to crush on the rebels’ favorite flyboy. Poe Dameron needs someone to help him decode new intel, so of course he looks to her.

masterlist

The ship is starting to touch down now. If you look closely, you can just see the dark crop of hair on the pilot, catch a glimpse of a fierce grin through the windscreen. Already, mechanics and nav crew members are rushing towards the X-Wing, trying to see if Poe Dameron has managed to finally screw up one space mission and give them something to fix on his ship. You doubt they’ll be that fortunate- Poe’s one of the best pilots. That’s just how it works, even if it means the mechanics have a lot less to do.

Poe stands up, climbing down the side of his X-Wing and checking to make sure his BB unit is being pulled out as well. He exchanges a few words with an overeager intel agent already pressing him for news on the latest mission, then starts heading through the crowd in the hangar bay. You hesitate for one second more, two, then turn away and start heading down the corridors of the Resistance base.

If you’re lucky, you have just left yourself enough time to get back to your station before anyone notices that you've stepped away. However, it does not appear that the galaxy is on your side today. Tela, your best friend, reaches out an arm in front of the door just as you attempt to head back into the room with your fellow officers. She raises an eyebrow at you. “Gawking at Dameron again?”

Your cheeks flame as you hurriedly glance around the corridor, making sure no one can hear you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tela flashes you a victorious grin. “No? You weren’t in the hangar, trying to catch a glimpse of Poe Dameron as he returns from his latest space cruise for General Organa? What else were you doing?” You smile feebly. “I was, uh, patrolling the area?”

Tela laughs. “You’re ridiculous.” You grin broadly at that. “Maybe. But weren’t you the one who just happened to keep stopping by the med bay to check on Finn?” Tela’s jaw drops. “I know you’re not bringing that up right now. We’re bullying you, not me.” A voice from behind you makes you straighten up in panic. “I thought bullying was against Resistance policy.”

When you turn around, Poe is standing behind you. Of course it’s Poe. Of course. You wonder how much of the conversation he heard, and you can only hope that he conveniently missed the part where Tela was making fun of you for crushing on him. You realize Poe’s looking at you like he’s expecting an answer. “It’s less bullying and more mild teasing. I’m just noticing how often Tela visits the med bay, even when she’s not injured.”

Tela stares at you with unabashed outrage, but a grin slides its way across Poe’s face. “Actually, I think I know what you mean. Didn’t I see you in there a couple standard hours ago?” You turn to face Tela with new interest. “Wait, I didn’t know about this. You didn’t tell me you left.” Poe nods with mock concern. “It was right when Finn was there for a checkup, too.”

You look back at him. “Did they speak?” Poe returns your conspiratorial gaze. “I don’t think so. A few waves were exchanged.” You incline your head in acceptance. “I think that’s the best we can get.” Poe mirrors your serious expression. “I think so too, officer. See you around.” With that, he issues a wave of his own before heading off down the corridor once more, presumably to go report back to General Organa.

Tela hardly waits for him to disappear around the corner before she turns to you, eyes wide. “Look at you go! I think that was the first interaction you’ve had in weeks. I almost believed you weren’t staring at him mournfully a few minutes ago.” You swat her shoulder. “It wasn’t like that. He approached me.” Tela jumps back from your blow, pretending to rub her arm in pain. “Hey, you can’t hit me. I just sacrificed my humiliation over the med bay so you two could smirk together like you were best friends.”

You smile at her, clasping your hands together over your heart and eliciting a laugh. “And what a sacrifice it was. Your name will go down among the Resistance heroes for all eternity.” Tela chuckles. “So will yours. Y/N L/N, spoke with Poe Dameron once and will never forget it for the rest of her life.” When you move to swat her again, Tela is ready and dodges out of the way.

You’ve almost made it down the corridor when you hear someone calling your name. You look around, slightly annoyed at this interruption, but any trace of irritation vanishes instantly from your face when you realize who’s jogging down the hallway towards you. Poe Dameron, back at it again. You haven’t talked to him in a couple of days, ever since that incident with Tela. You’re not sure that incident is exactly the right word, but it’s close enough. It felt incidental to you.

Poe comes to a stop beside you, breathing erratic from running across the Resistance base. A casual grin spreads across his face, as easy as starting a program on your navicomputer. “So, how’s my favorite Lieutenant Commander of the Datatech Division?” You raise an eyebrow, unable to hide a smile. “Since when have you known my full title? I’m pretty sure only Tela’s bothered to memorize it.” Poe’s grin stalls a second, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Then the smile returns, full force and strong as a laser bolt.

“I make it a point to know all the pretty girls on this side of the galaxy, L/N. That list just happens to include you.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling your heart do a slow roll in your chest. “So, did you jog across the base for anything other than some mild flattery?” Poe presses a hand to his heart in mock dismay. “Oh, it’s always more than mild. But yes, Lieutenant, I did. I need someone who’s tech savvy to help me decode some files.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “And here I thought you wanted me for something interesting. Any space jockey with half a brain can decode files.” Poe’s eyes linger on yours for a little longer than usual. “And what if this space jockey just wanted your company?” You let the question hang in the air for a second, then reply. “Then I’ll do it, but he’ll need a better excuse next time.” Poe’s grin could split the sun. Stars, you’re in over your head.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Meet me by the eastern side of base at ten standard hours tomorrow? That’s when the data finishes transmitting.” You nod. “I’ll be there.” “I’m looking forward to it.” Poe flashes you one last grin before disappearing down an adjacent corridor. You watch him as he goes. What are you getting yourself into?

You might have reservations, some last ounce of common sense that tells you not to run headlong into danger with this man. Yet you find yourself at the east corner of the base at ten standard hours, just as promised, although the designated meeting spot is empty of anyone save you. This is what you get for letting your heart run wild, you tell yourself, so you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re just a lieutenant to him, remember? Just a job.

Your fears are confirmed when you see Poe turn onto your hallway, talking with another girl. You know her from the intel division- Lian Kos, about as pretty as she is good with a star cruiser. Needless to say, she’s devastatingly attractive, and it comes as no surprise that Poe is deep in conversation with her. You can feel your heart shrinking in your chest, trying to hide itself away from this unwelcome truth that Poe is only playing with you.

However, you might just be kidding yourself, because you swear that the second Poe turns his head and sees you, his eyes light up in something almost like relief. His strides lengthen as he rushes over to you, muttering a quick goodbye to a more than slightly displeased Lian. The girl is forced to turn down another hallway, still evidently bitter over this quick goodbye.

You raise an eyebrow, unable to let it go. “What, did she insult your flying skills? I haven’t seen someone run that far from Lian since she accidentally shot a trainee in the arm during blaster practice.” Poe chuckles at that. “I didn’t want to be late. We’re doing very important work, you hear? The Resistance is crucial.” You barely hold back a snort. “I didn’t realize Resistance work was so important that you had to drop anyone in sight like you’ve been sliced by a vibroblade.”

Poe’s eyes twinkle with laughter, and for a second you feel like you’ve been caught in the crossfire. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.” Your words dry up on your tongue. He’s just joking, you know that, but something about the way he says it makes you almost think he’s telling the truth, that Poe Dameron would really cast aside a woman like Lian Kos for someone like you. Then the reality of the situation comes crashing back down around you, and you remember that something like that would never happen.

You force your smile back onto your cheeks. “And maybe I want to get this over with so I can go back to my station. Resistance work is important, right?” You might just be looking for excuses, but you swear that Poe looks almost disappointed by this.

Poe’s intel is actually pretty interesting. You hate to admit it after you made fun of him yesterday, but the decoding process is fairly difficult and it takes all of your focus to complete. That being said, you can’t help but notice the way Poe’s eyes linger on your face as you scan the files, or the way his gaze dances between your fingers as you work. It’s as if he’s never seen anyone quite like you before, and he’s taking the chance to truly look at you as if committing your very being to memory. It makes you want to look closer at him, to rethink all the certainties you’d propped up between you and the flyboy standing before you.

At last, the work is done and you’re free to go. You save the last file, turning to hand the datapad back to Poe so he can report to General Organa and be done with the project. However, his hands linger on yours, and he doesn’t accept the datapad right away. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “I did need you, you know.” For some reason, you get the feeling that he isn’t just talking about the decoding, or the Resistance work, or anything like that at all. You have the strangest impression that he’s talking about the way he feels about you.

You’re afraid to say anything lest you break this moment, like a single word spoken will shatter the quiet of the room or dispel the blinking lights of the diagrams and navicomputers all around you. Poe looks back at you, and you swear he looks almost nervous. That can’t be right- practically perfect starfighter pilot Poe Dameron, the Resistance worker everybody swears by, nervous over you? It feels impossible.

Yet he still stands before you, shifting on his feet, not quite ready to speak again but utterly unwilling to leave. You move before you realize it, unable to take the silent pressure that you should be doing something. When you kiss him, you think it’s the worst mistake you’ve ever made. It certainly makes the blood rush through your head in a way you’ve only experienced during a street brawl against the First Order, when they’re shooting at you as you run and the adrenaline is coursing through your veins. This is how it feels to kiss Poe- not a soft moment, but a firestorm.

Then he’s kissing you again, datapad shoved onto a nearby table so he can wrap his hands around your waist and pull you close. You stay there for a day, maybe a year, or possibly only a couple of seconds. It feels like an eternity or like it barely happened at all. When you break away, you hesitate, still afraid to look up and condemn yourself to whatever emotion will be waiting in his eyes. After a heartbeat, two, you give in and look at him again.

He’s smiling. It’s a soft smile, one you don’t think you’ve seen in a while. He usually puts up this front of classic, confident soldier, a pilot who’s seen impossible odds and never been shaken by it. He wears the smile of a wolf, a leader, an actor. This is a wholly different smile- his, at last. Something that hasn’t yet been taken from him by the war.

His voice is quiet in the stillness of the room. “You keep surprising me, lieutenant.” You can’t help but share in his smile, feeling a giddy rush bubble up in your chest. “I intend to make it a habit.” His hand laces around yours, still unwilling to let you go quite yet. “That sounds good to me.”

[pricetagofficial]

Warning Signs -WW

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, reasons to yell at me

Pairing: Wally West x Reader

Part Two

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @unknowntoanyone​ @subtleappreciation​ @catxsnow​ @nightwcngs​ @screennamealreadyused​ @river-bottom-nightmare​ @woahjaybird​ @bikoncon​

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent in this request! I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted, and if no one is yelling at my after reading this are you even human?

Your romance with Wally was anything but slow, but that came with the territory of loving a speedster let alone the fastest person alive. You knew from the moment you met that he was going to be a part of the rest of your life, and you hoped that it would be in a good way. It was no secret that Wally West was famous with the ladies, he was as smooth as he was fast and his words had you stumbling for a response.

What was once just simple flirting, turned into tense training sessions filled to the brim with sexual tension. It got to the point that the rest of the Titans could see your obvious attraction to each other but Dick knew your past.

In fact, he was the only one who knew it.

You had a dark past, one that you weren’t proud of and was actively trying to leave it behind. Deadshot had made you a lethal weapon someone who could shoot a target from hundreds of yards away and hit your mark perfectly. That kind of skill got you noticed, and not in a good way. It was what led the Titans to you in the first place.

Deadshot had brought you along to make you see that the Titans were really just what he said, a bunch of kids who had no idea what they were doing. But to you, they were anything but. He had ordered you to take them out one by one, and that’s what you planned on doing before you were interrupted.

Your first bullet didn’t hit its intended mark, instead, it landed in the shoulder of The Flash because you were knocked over by a blur of blue and black. Nightwing had stopped you from killing his best friend that day, and The Flash never even knew about it.

The mask you wore hid your face from him, so he couldn’t see what you looked like but with one well-placed hit, he caught a glimpse of just how young you were. It stopped him in his tracks, Deadshot had brought a girl no younger than he was to murder them for him.

Nightwing had tried to make you see sense, convince you that Deadshot only had his intentions in mind and cared nothing about you. With how young and naïve you were, you refused to believe him until you were captured and he left you there to take the blame.

For someone you thought you trusted, it hurt when he disappeared from sight as you yelled for him to get you out.

Nightwing gave you an option, you could join them on the team or go to jail. Considering the better of the two options, you joined the team. Dick, as you had come to know him, gave you a new background that you needed to fool the rest of your team into thinking that you were who you said you were.

Now here you were months later passionately in love with the very same speedster that you had almost killed.

Looking over at him while he slept, you could count the freckles that decorated Wally’s face. His brilliant green eyes were hidden by his closed lids with his bright red hair spread out across your pillows. Your naked form was pressed into his side as he held you close to him in his sleep. You had never felt like this about anyone before and it scared you that you cared so much about him.

Deadshot was still out there, and he knew who you were. If you were to run into him again, there was no guarantee that he would not try to ruin the new life you had tried to build for yourself.

Wally rolled and pulled you on top of him with a groan, a soft smile on his lips. Slowly, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the not wanting to wake him. But it seemed that he already was.

Feeling your lips on his, Wally’s grip on your waist tightened as he cupped your face and fully kissed you. For someone who was dead asleep only moments ago, he seemed to be very awake with the way he was kissing you.

Your free hand tangled itself into his hair, tugging it every so often causing him to let out soft groans that you loved so much.

“Hey babe, what’s got you up at this hour?” he asked, his voice filled with sleep.

You giggled and looked down at him, your hair framing your face. “I could say the same about you handsome.” You teased, brushing his bangs back.

“I was dreaming about the most beautiful girl I know, only to realize that while I dreamt of her, she was pressed against me in reality. I couldn’t pass that up.” He grinned, holding your waist. “Now, what’s keeping you up beautiful?”

You blushed at his pet name for you. “Just thinking about when Dick-“ you didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Wally’s face changed to a dangerous smirk.

“You mean to tell me that you are in bed with me naked, and you are thinking about my best friend?” he asked sliding his hands up your sides.

You scoffed and hit his shoulder with a laugh. “Wallace West! If you let me finish you would know that it was about when Dick brought me here to meet all of you.” You giggled, watching Wally look you over as his hand ran over your bare body.

“I remember that day too, the moment you showed up I knew that I had to have you no matter what.” He started. “It’s weird though, Dick told me that I shouldn’t get involved with you but I couldn’t be gladder that I ignored him.”

Hearing his words, your mood dropped but you refused to let your smile change. Dick didn’t approve of your relationship? That was news to you, but if you were honest with yourself you weren’t surprised. Dick was the only one who knew of your true past, he just wanted to keep his best friend safe. But he had to have known that there was nothing you would ever do to hurt Wally.

Wally noticed that you were quiet for a long minute, and his eyes filled with concern. “Y/N, babe, you alright?” he asked as he forced himself to sit up with you still straddling his lap. His large hands held your hips as he looked you over to make sure that you were alright. “Are you bothered that Dick said that?”

Quickly you shook your head and placed a kiss on his forehead before leaning yours on his shoulder. “it’s not that, I’m just really glad that I met you, Wally.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close to comfort you. Laying back down, the two of you drifted off to sleep while you thought of confronting Dick about what he had said to Wally about staying away from you.

The confrontation with Dick didn’t happen for another few days. He was stuck in Blüdhaven working on a case and the day he got back was when there was a threat on Jump City. Within no time, you and the rest of the Titans were suited up and ready to go. Wally gave you one final kiss before he sped out the door to head off your adversary and you ran across the roofs with Dick and Roy. Donna flew above you with Garth taking the waves from the harbor with him.

Dick could tell that there was something off with you but it was placed on the back burner when he was bolts of lightning streak across the city as Wally fended off the city as he waited for the rest of his team.

“Hey Flash, any sign on who it is?” Nightwing asked.

“It’s our favorite sharpshooter here Rob, Deadshot is back in town and he seems pissed.” Flash’s voice sounded through the com system.

The look you and Nightwing shared didn’t ease your nerves at all. Deadshot was back in town, and he was most likely looking for you.

“What’s the plan Nightwing?” Donna asked as she flew above.

“Flash, Garth and Donna, you three distract him so Arsenal, Barrage, and I try and get in close to take him out. If we play this right, we can finally put him away after months of tracking him down.”

There was a murmur of agreement as Donna and Garth shot ahead to give Flash the assistance he needed It didn’t take long for you and the other two to arrive, but the second Deadshot saw you, you swore he smiled.

Pulling out a rifle of your own, you set up in a hidden location so you could try and get a good view and possibly a few good shots in at him. The man who made you a killer was not going to get away with it this time.

The battle raged on for what seemed like hours, but finally, with a combined effort of you, Nightwing and Flash Deadshot was finally down for the count. But that didn’t stop him from talking.

“Barrage you said your name was? You remind me an awful lot about my last partner Deadeye, the last time I saw her was here in this city. Any idea where I could find her?” he asked.

Before the others could ask, you punched him hard enough that his nose broke and a couple of his teeth chipped. Giving the others the signal that you were heading back early, you disappeared down the street leaving a very confused Wally and a frowning Dick.

The second you got back to the tower, you showered and grabbed a snack from the kitchen. Moments after you grabbed a bowl of food, you felt a rush of air beside you. Within seconds, Wally placed a kiss on your lips, took a bite of your food, and promised to “be back in a flash” before zooming off to the shower and dressed.

One by one the others filtered in with Dick being the last one. His gaze went to you immediately and you followed him to the training room. Dick shut the door and stood with his arms crossed as he watched you walk towards him.

“I know you have questions, but I have a few of my own bird brain. First of all, who the fuck gave you permission to tell Wally to stay away from me when I first got here? Isn’t that a choice to be made by us, not you? I would never hurt him like that, you of all people should know this!” you snapped at him, poking him in the chest.

“Yeah, I of all people also know where you really came from. What’s he going to think when he and the others find out that you were Deadeye and almost killed us only a few months ago? I’m thinking of more than just you; I’m thinking about the entire team.” he snapped.

“I left Deadeye behind before I ever fell for him! If I was going to hurt him, I would have done it already. But what about you? How are you going to tell your best friend that you lied to him about his girlfriend? I am not the only one at fault here and if I go down, I am dragging you with me, Richard Grayson.”

You were going to say more but you caught the expression on Dick’s face. He was staring at something behind you, and you had a bad feeling about what it was. Turning on your heel, you saw Wally standing there with a look of shock on his face with the apple he was eating long forgotten about.

“Y/N, Dick, what the hell is going on?” he asked slowly.

“Walls-“ Dick started towards him only for Wally to back away and shake his head.

“Don’t, I want the truth.” He said sternly. “The whole truth.”

You dropped your head and took a deep breath. “I haven’t been exactly honest with you about who I am. I wasn’t always Barrage; I was Deadeye Deadshot’s apprentice.” You said slowly.

Wally’s eyes shifted between you and Dick. “You knew, you both knew and kept it from me?” he asked.

The look on both yours and Dick’s faces said it all. The two people he loved most in the world lied to his face about who you were and it hurt him more than that bullet wound you had apparently given him.

Dick moved to step towards his friend once again only for Wally to shoot him a glare. “I want to hear what she has to say, not you.” He snapped, only for Dick to drop his head and leave the room for the two of you to try and talk things out.

The silence that fell over you was deafening and it seemed that the tension was choking you. You loved Wally, you loved him more than anything but the way he was looking at you broke your heart. He trusted you with everything, including his secret identity only to find out that you had tried to kill them only months before was a shock.

He was the first to break the silence, “How long have you been lying to me?” he asked. The lack of response only told him that it had been from the beginning.

“I wanted to tell you Red, I really did. But I knew that if I was honest about who I was, none of you would have trusted me. Floyd left me on that rooftop knowing what could have happened to me, and Dick decided that I deserved a second chance. So, with his help, I came up with a new past and joined the team.” You explained.

Wally stood there quietly and listened. “So, you thought that lying to a whole team who trusted you was a good idea?” he asked.

“Wally, would you have trusted me if I told the truth? Would we be what we are if I was honest?”

“Dick warned me about this.” He said softly, looking at the floor.

“About what?”

Wally’s green eyes finally met your own after almost ten minutes of avoiding your gaze and you could see the heartbreak hidden behind the traces of his anger and betrayal. “You.”

His words cut you deeply, Wally’s opinion of you was the only one you actually cared about and you could see it changing in front of your eyes.

“Red please,” you begged stepping closer to him. “We can work this out, I don’t want to lose you.”

Wally shook his head, pulling his hands away before you could take them in your own the term for endearment you had for him leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “You and I both know that you lost me the second you decided to lie to me and the rest of the team.” He turned around and quickly walked out of the training room avoiding his best friend that stood right outside the door.

The gravity of the situation was crushing you, what else were you supposed to do? Wally had just broken up with you and was likely going to tell the team that you and Dick had been lying to them. So, you did the only thing left for you to do.

Before Dick could ask questions or express the guilt he felt, you darted out of the training room and ran to yours and packed. Within half an hour your stuff was packed into two duffel bags and you dashed for the elevator.

The last thing you saw before the doors closed was the look on Wally’s face before you left Titans Tower, never wanting to come back.

[obeymeluv]

(Pact) Marks the Spot - [Beelzebub x Fem!Reader]

It’s 1 AM. Have some Beelzebub smut.

Now I’m getting all kinds of pact mark ideas. May put out some pact mark headcanons. 

Unedited because it’s 1 AM.

Despite the thousands of years demons had been alive, pact marks were exceedingly rare. Mostly because humans had lost the ability to summon. Most people who managed to summon demons did it by sheer luck or for nefarious reasons. Sometimes it took multiple attempts to pull a demon; half the time demons took pity on the humans and showed up for the hell of it (and a snack). At the end of the day, demons had to choose to make a pact and that was rare in itself.

Giving your real name had inconceivable power in a world like the Devildom, where non-humans roamed. Making a pact had the same weight and bore the same vulnerability.

And yet you had several.

Mammon’s pact mark was on the side of your arm where bicep meets shoulder, Levi’s was on the back of the opposite shoulder (even his pact mark wanted to stay away from Mammon!) and Beel’s was adjacent to your belly button, basically on your hip.

It was rare for a human to have one pact mark, let alone three. You were slowly learning things about pact marks. Things that hadn’t happened in so long they were basically speculation in the Devildom. Demons could “pull” on the pact marks just like humans could, and each brother had a different sensation. When Mammon secretly vied for your company, it felt like a hummingbird beat against your shoulder, a little kid pulling hesitantly on your sleeve. Levi rarely “pulled” on his pact mark, but when he did it was a long push with gentle pressure, like fingertips on your skin. Beelzebub never consciously pulled on your pact mark and you swore you only got his muscle pains.

Satan was absolutely bewildered by the concept. Shouldn’t you be able to feel something else with Beel? Surely you’d at least be a little hungry, right? It sparked many conversations between the brothers and Diavolo. Did Beel not have this ability for some reason? Was it because he was sixth-strongest? Could you only feel things with Mammon and Levi because they were second- and third-strongest, respectively?

Beel was basically already linked with Belphegor…did that hinder his ability to “pull” with you? Satan, for all his infinite knowledge and even greater amount of books, could not answer this. There were ancient scrolls in Diavolo’s castle that were too frail to unroll. No one wanted to test it, honestly, and appreciated them as the relics they were. They had been translated and written up several times over the centuries, but the books were either missing pages or just gone completely.

Humans who’d summoned demons in the past liked to ask for Devildom “souvenirs” and textbooks were a favorite. So many had been traded for favors from summoners or witches. Diavolo vividly recalled a brazen attendant spiriting one away now and then; he was convicted and executed for selling them to traders. Most of them were never recovered.

Beelzebub could come when summoned and that’s what mattered. They chose not to look into it any farther than that. What would it matter? There was nothing written on it anymore. There were quiet whispers that maybe you couldn’t feel Beel “pull” because you weren’t as close to him as Levi and Mammon. As in: you could pull from him per the ‘master’ clause of the pact, but he chose not to pull on you.

That hurt you, honestly, because he was an absolute sweetheart. Out of all of them, you could definitely SEE the ex-angel in him and how he acted. How he treated people. You thought you got along well! You liked to go on walks, try new food, and sometimes he used you as resistance weight when he practiced!

If that wasn’t being close, what was?!

You’d been thinking about it a lot, so used to Mammon’s ghosting squeeze throughout the day. It was like his way of checking on you without saying it aloud (because he could never be honest). Sometimes you could feel Levi’s frustration, your shoulder prickling like a knot forming on the muscle. But Beel? You didn’t feel anything in particular when you brushed your fingers over the mark, shirt held up in front of a mirror as if that would give you a sign.

When you touched the pact mark for the other brothers, there’d be a push back. Almost like a question. Yes, do you need something? It was crazy how the sensations could put words in your brain. Almost like they were translated for you, a human, to comprehend. That human-demon translation was possible; Satan had found that much.

So the brothers were basically telepathic. To an extent.

You’d pout in front of the mirror and wish to feel something. You’d stand there for ages, wondering if you were pushing any buttons in Beel’s brain. Triggering a want to send you a sign. When nothing happened, you’d let your shirt drop down and go about your day.

Your wish was finally answered one morning when a low, throbbing warmth seemed to radiate from the mark. You didn’t get your hopes up. It was probably a muscle cramp, some kind of post-stretch that had Beel feeling tender. A sharp pain bolted through you as you changed into your RAD uniform, the force of it enough to make you lean into the wall for support. It definitely felt like a muscle cramp, like someone who’d done a lot of ab work bent too low the next day.

It scared you to think this was only a fraction of what he felt. The pact mark was supposed to filter down emotions and sensations to levels that humans could tolerate, but only when the demon focused. If the demon was taken by surprise or felt something stronger than they anticipated, that would reflect in their pact mate.

Whatever he was feeling had your stomach in a flutter. The throbbing had dulled but a twisting sensation had taken its place. You felt something building, building, building in your stomach. A warmth overtook you, first nice and relaxing, then searing, and you wondered if Beelzebub had put on some kind of muscle cream. Half-dressed, you ran to the twins’ room to see what he was doing.

It was a brief run, and the rush of air seemed to cool your stomach. You thanked your lucky stars that Belphegor was nowhere to be found as you burst into the room. The throbbing sensation returned with a vengeance, the heat swelling in you as you drew upon the bathroom. One of the brothers was showering in there.

You started for the bathroom, whimpering when the throbbing grew strong enough to make your thighs shake. Clutching the doorway, you pressed your thighs together. A light-headed feeling overcame you and you swear you saw glimpses of white. Glimpses of Beel with an unnaturally long tongue snatching the shower curtain back and watching you with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

That flash of light must’ve only been seconds but you awoke to droplets of water raining down on you. Beelzebub towered over you, naked and freshly showered and radiating a warmth almost identical to what you felt in the pact mark. He slammed the door shut with a shove that snapped you to your senses.

You felt like you were recovering from a shockwave. Ripped from a dream.

“Fuck,” you heard Beel hiss. A grumbling, guttural sound rolled in his throat as he propped you up, hands scooting you back against the door, pushing your legs flat, pulling you up by the shoulders so you sat a little straighter, and propping your chin up against a few of his fingers so you could look at him.

His horns were out.

“Why are you mad at me?” you slurred, sounding offended.

“I’m not.” He gnashed his teeth in frustration and it was the first time you’d seen them up close. He and Satan had the sharpest teeth in the family. That was something of a bragging right between the two, enhanced by their sins, but they looked even sharper now. “I’m just…” Beel struggled with his words, his brow furrowed in thoughtfulness and agitation, “feeling a lot of things right now.” his chest heaved as the words finally came out.

Those big hands flexed in emphasis, in frustration that he couldn’t make you understand.

“Like?” the fog was starting to clear from your brain.

“Like how I choose not to connect with you because I care about you. I don’t want you to feel the endless hunger I feel, the absolute power it has over me.” Beel was starting to find his center, to calm down. “Like how upset I felt when my brothers even suggested I can’t pull on your pact mark because I feel nothing for you.” His horns flared again, cracking audibly as the spiraled around his wet hair. They seemed to harden and curl with conviction.

Kind of like a bull getting ready to charge and gore someone.

“Then what the hell was that?” you make a point to look at his face, to crane your neck up so he doesn’t think you’re following the lines of his chest or looking between his legs.

His eyes softened as he looked at you. They glittered against the bathroom light and wet floor. Beel’s lips lifted in a sweet smile hemmed with fangs. A blush lit his cheeks, starting at his cheekbones and spreading, when he broke your gaze. “I pulled on your pact mark.” Beel’s eyes shot to yours with a suddenness that made you flinch and hit your head against the wall.

You felt frozen in place. His eyes were hard and dark, like a real violet crystal. “Wh-what was I supposed to feel?” your voice was so small you wondered if he heard it. You had an idea of what it was, but you wanted to hear him say it. To have him admit it.

“How much I love you.” Beel said slowly, his face completely turned away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you if you felt anything less. There was something else he could say, but he was afraid it’d be too much considering this ‘confession’ happened because urges got the best of him. Because he let his feelings sit for too long instead of being honest with you.

“Was it supposed to feel like an orgasm?”

WHY DID IT COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?! IT WAS TRUE, BUT WHY?! Here Beel was with his beautiful soul and his shy confession and you just STEAM ROLLED OVER IT!

The heat flared in your stomach again, swift and hot and somehow worse despite the fact you were sitting on a cold bathroom floor. Beel’s fingers reached for one of your ankles and he stopped himself. Burning eyes stared into you, and it was the first time you saw the muscles in his throat and jaw strain to hold his tongue. It slithered between his teeth, serpentine and seeking. “I love you that way, too.” Beel mumbled shyly, looking down.

Looking away, as if he was ashamed to say so.

You felt yourself melt against the floor, hoping the cold would soothe your burning body and calm your beating heart. Beel fell down around you, propping himself up on a forearm carefully placed by your head. “It’s a different kind of hungry,” he whispered with a hint of anguish and terror, forehead against his fist, “and I am not made to bear it. This isn’t supposed to be my sin.”

Beel wanted to cry. He was afraid his feelings were too strong for you, a human.

It finally hit you. This beefy cinnamon roll loved you and lusted over you. He was so overwhelmed with the sheer love he had for you—more than one kind—that it finally broke through his pact mark filter. When you realized that it made you feel even more special. It meant he’d been thinking of you, focusing for your benefit, this whole time.

“I can share that burden,” you whispered quietly, bumping his chin with your forehead. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees lightning fast, slipping a little on the floor. Your hands shot out to hold his shoulders in case he fell (not that it would do anything).

“You mean it?” Beel’s eyes were wide and searching. “You feel what I feel?” he asked, cupping your face in one hand, fingers reaching around the back of your head to cradle it.

“Yeah.” You blushed, pressing your cheek into his hand as you looked away. That big purr rolled in his chest, the one he was happy to give when you hugged him. The pact mark gave off a subdued warmth that surrounded you and comforted you. It felt like he was hugging you to him. It translated to Look at me, and you saw his violet eyes blazing, tongue slithering out in its ravenous glory.

It was one of the first times you’d really seen his “demon” qualities shining through. It was fascinating in a shameful way; you couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. I’m about to feast, you could feel the cold floor on your bare skin now, and you wondered how many pieces your clothes were in.  

He was starting to salivate a little and your heart leapt in your throat as those sharp teeth winked at you. Beel pressed himself flat against you, peppering your naked stomach with sloppy, hungry kisses. A small part of you—an irrational, stupid part—thought he’d start burrowing through until he hit muscle and organ. Instead he traced with his lips and tongue, strong hands coming up to grab at whatever he could reach. Beelzebub kissed his pact mark and you swore he conspired with it, your walls clenching around nothing and desperately wanting something.

“So beautiful,” Beel’s groping turned to massaging and kneading. Wet kisses slipped down towards your sex and he hummed against you. Hummed in restraint and desire. In contentedness that he could have this moment. His fingers found you first, teasing your clit and running the length of your slit before delving inside. You both cursed, probably at the same time.

You braced one foot on his chest as he propped your hips up with his free hand. Your back arched, head bumping into the wall. Beel’s fingers kept a steady, surprisingly tame pace. A total contrast to the eager head you could feel prodding at your back as he rolled his hips. His fingers dragged along your walls, curling in ways that made your body clench.

Everything was hot and you didn’t know if it was the closeness of him or the pact mark. Was he sharing his feelings with you or just exploiting your deliciously sensitive human nerves? It didn’t take long for you to orgasm. You looked at him through his lashes, mewling as he gingerly folded your knees to your chest and opened you up. It was stretching muscles and kindling feelings that had barely started to die.

“You look pretty like this,” Beel rasped in a voice cut with fangs. He kissed your ankle a few times, moving towards the bend of your knee as he stared down at you with a mix of love and pure hunger. Humans were delectable all their own, but the tang of your orgasm was something he’d rip people apart for. The desire to taste you overtook him, his tongue snaking out of his mouth as he buried himself between your thighs.

You gave a wanton moan that damn near made him orgasm. As an angel, he never understood how demons could torment humans so. Now? Now he perfectly understood the almost obsessed drive to coax all of these pretty noises out of them. How such a thing was worth the damnation, the rumors, and the reputation.

He was kissing you and suckling you and you saw the white come back into your vision again. You thought your heart was going to give out! You bobbed in and out of consciousness with each throb of pleasure, your body trying desperately to clench around the muscle. Beelzebub indulged in your orgasm like the last bite of an exquisite meal, daring to flick your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue as he drew it back into his mouth. The Avatar of Gluttony licked the corner of his lip, as he often did when he was satisfied with a meal (a small quirk you’d picked up on).

His lips were puffy and shiny, much like yours. He let you catch your breath, resting one leg on his shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you how I felt,” Beel muttered as he rubbed the leg on his shoulder comfortingly. He put your other leg on his shoulder, squeezing your calves now. “I knew I would always be hungry. I would always want you. I didn’t want you to feel like meat….like an object.”

“But I liked how that felt.” You smiled at him.

“I’m trying to be serious,” Beel huffed, sliding your legs down to his hips as he moved between your legs to meet your gaze. His lips ghosted over your chest and latched onto your neck. “I could eat you all day long,” he said more to himself, the words muffled by his lips. Beelzebub started to rut against you. At some point he must’ve orgasmed because his cock was slick, sliding across your sex and rubbing on your stomach.

His teeth pinched your neck and you gasped. Beel’s cock twitched.

“You have control, and I know you love me. Sex is just a bonus.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. Beel’s kisses turned almost kittenish as he basked in the feel of you hugging him, cradling him so gently. His heart swelled with love as he nuzzled against your skin. He felt your legs winding around him as you tried to angle yourself for his cock to find. He reached between your bodies to stroke himself.

“If I don’t,” he managed between grunts of ecstasy and frustration, “I’ll get you pregnant.”

Was that a warning or a promise? He certainly had the stamina for it.

Was there scientific evidence of demon sperm being especially potent for humans? Beel finished on your stomach before your thoughts could wander too far. He felt the desire ebb for the first time in what felt like ages and leaned back to take in how angelic you looked on the floor with your messy hair and tender body just starting to blossom with the colors of his affection. It seemed impossible, but that sight was more satisfying than fulfilling a craving. He laughed to himself—poor little dazed human. A cute little dazed human, though—as he cleaned you off with the towel he’d set aside for his shower.

Beel swaddled you in a new towel, wrapped one around his waist, and stood to collect you. He set you on his bed and shrugged into some clothes. The sight was just as nice as the sex, if not better. He handed you a shirt, his eyes shining like an excited puppy as he waited for you to put it on. You slipped it on and he purred long and deep, sliding into bed with you. The sixth-born scooped you into his strong arms, pressing your stomach against his face and bringing you up towards the headboard.

“I love you,” he kissed your stomach. Kissed his pact mark.

“I love you,” you petted and played with his drying hair. The post-sex lull sauntered in and your thoughts began to slow. The last coherent one you remembered was how were we not interrupted?

“I told Asmodeus I was going to confess to you and Lucifer overheard. He was a little concerned things would ‘evolve into impropriety’ so I made a bet with him. If he and my brothers could pin me to the floor, he could supervise the confession. If I won, I could do it my way.”

You stopped petting his hair, now wide awake. “You beat all of your brothers?!”

“Of course!” he laughed into your stomach. “Well...sort of. Levi didn’t try, Asmodeus sat out as a protest, and Satan and Belphie just watched. Mammon was going to take bets but Lucifer said if he helped, he’d pay off some of his credit card debt.”

“So you beat up Lucifer and Mammon?”

“Not totally,” Beelzebub shimmied up the bed until you were nose-to-nose, wrapping his arms around you. “I threw Mammon out of the house a few times; he finally decided to watch through the window. Lucifer fought the hardest.”

“When are they coming back?”

As if to answer you, his D.D.D started going off. Beelzebub reluctantly untangled himself to grab it. You could hear him opening and closing chats. “Soon,” he replied as he set it down. “It took them a while to agree on furniture.” He tucked himself into you again.

“Furniture?!”

“Well…we broke a few things.” He admitted bashfully. “A lot of things.”

Now you were tempted to go down and see what the first floor looked like. Beelzebub felt your leg stretch over him, your body trying to push off the bed. There was a gentle insistence in your stomach, like a little weight pressing you to the bed. A sweeping feeling of comfy and cuddle me that sapped your willpower. Beelzebub was pulling on your pact mark.        

[sirisuorionblack]

The doctor (part 2)

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - When a 25-year-old single father Cedric Diggory was woken up by his daughter to get shots he knew something was going to happen but not in the slightest bit did he know he was going to find new love. (Muggle AU)

Warnings - none

Part 1 Part 2

Convincing (Y/N) took quite a time, but Cedric managed to do it along with the help of Charlotte.

"Cedric, I really don't think this is a good idea," (Y/N) said anxiously as she swung a bag over her shoulder and carried one of her luggage while Cedric carried the rest.

"You think so?" Cedric asked and nudged his daughter, "Tell her, princess, she thinks this is a bad idea,"

"I am not saying it's a bad idea but, um," (Y/N) started but the look Cedric shot her made her blush and look away.

"Yes, (N/N), it's not a bad idea," Charlotte said, shuffling away from her father's side to hers, "Like look, it would be amazing, we can buy chocolates together, we can movies together and then we could, uh, um, get shots together,"

(Y/N) burst out laughing while Cedric chuckled, "You want to get shots together!?"

"What?" Charlotte asked, adorably dragging the syllables and pouted, crossing her arms, "Stop laughing,"

"Sorry, sorry," (Y/N) coughed to prevent herself from giggling.

"Home sweet home," Cedric said, pushing the door to his flat open and standing inside with his arms wide open, "Come on,"

(Y/N) placed her bags down and took a moment to appreciate how neat the flat was, she had pictured something worse than this, something much messier and she was more than surprised to realise her dorm was not even near to this place.

Charlotte had taken her hand and guided her in while Cedric moved to the kitchen for doing who-knows-what.

A grey couch was placed in the middle of the living room, a TV before it. The kitchen island was on the left, where she could see Cedric clearly fiddling with a glass. There were two rooms on one end of the flat and another one on the opposite side.

"Water," Cedric muttered, passing her the glass of water, "So, we have an extra room here, you can take that and it has an attached restroom. We can shift a few things from my room like a dresser and such. If you need help in arranging things, do let me know."

Cedric took her to the side of the flat where two rooms were situated, "This one is Charlotte's," he said, pointing at the room decorated with glow in the dark stars, cartoon characters, superheroes along with a few snippets of Cedric and Charlotte together and a banner reading 'The Princess'.

"The princess?" (Y/N) asked, chuckling.

"Yes," Charlotte answered, enthusiastically and (Y/N) leaned down, picking the little girl up into her arms, "We could change your room to 'The Queen',"

Cedric made a noise as though choking on his spit and patted his head, "Charlotte,"

The little girl shrugged and leaned against (Y/N).

"Anyways, this is your room," Cedric said, beckoning her to follow him inside "her room".

The room was spacious, neat and clean. A queen-sized bed in the middle of the room along with a wardrobe on the side of the room, a study desk in front of the bed.

(Y/N) had felt so guilty accepting Cedric's offer, she didn't know yet why she even agreed to this in the first place, perhaps the way Charlotte had asked, the look on her face that resembled the greatest hopefulness, the tone of her voice as though (Y/N) living with her would be the happiest moment of the little girl's life.

(Y/N) had taken one glance at Cedric who fondly stared at his daughter, looking like he wanted to fulfil every dream of his little princess even if it is the most impossible thing to achieve and at that moment all she craved for was to just freeze the happiness on both the father and the daughter's face.

She had sighed and smiled, muttering, "I-OK,"

Both Cedric and Charlotte cheered as the little girl excitedly talked about her home.

"I dunno if this is great but well-" Cedric said, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh, please, this is great. I mean my full dorm was even smaller than this single room," (Y/N) said, gratefully.

"We'll give you time to shift. C'mon, princess," Cedric said, stretching his arms for his daughter who clung to (Y/N) and shook her head.

"I will help her," she muttered, staring at her father and batting her lashes.

Cedric shook his head, exasperatedly, and started to leave, "Do whatever you want, just don't disturb her!" he yelled over his shoulder as he walked to the living room.

(Y/N) glanced at the little girl in her arms who looked back at her cheekily making the adult burst out laughing once again that day.

Within months the three of them became tightly knit, their schedules shifting unknowingly to accommodate all of their plans. Yeah, they had plans, movie nights on Friday and Saturday nights, take outs on Monday, visiting amusement parks and as such.

(Y/N) hadn't dated anyone in quite a while and before a month or so, she begged all the deities that someone would ask her for a date and that hadn't happened at all but now, she is declining everyone that had come to her with a nervous smile. She doesn't know why and she hoped her hypothesis to be false. What's her hypothesis you ask? She thinks, perhaps, somewhere in the journey with Cedric and Charlotte she might have developed feelings for the father and she is most embarrassed about it, and hence, suppressing the feeling to the bottom of her heart.

As (Y/N) was dealing with her problem, it seemed Cedric had one of his own, he too, perhaps, along the way fell in love with her, and he was terrified. And Charlotte sat back, watching awkward encounters of the adults with scrunched eyebrows and confused eyes but she loved (Y/N) nonetheless, and hadn't been scared to express it on a daily basis.

"(N/N)!" Charlotte yelled from her bedroom, "(N/N), C'mere!"

"One second!" (Y/N) called back from the kitchen, "Where's your dad? Oh, here you are," she muttered, siping her hands and taking a seat on the edge of Charlotte's bed.

"How may I serve, my lady?" (Y/N) asked with a fake bow. Charlotte giggled while Cedric tried to conceal the fond smile that threatened to spill.

"Will you come to pick me up tomorrow?" Charlotte asked.

"Uh," (Y/N) looked at Cedric, confused, who just smirked back, "Where-? Oh! From your school!?"

"Yeah," Charlotte said, looking at her hopefully and there wasn't a minute for her to think about it before she said, "OK,"

"Yay!" Charlotte cheered, throwing her arms around (Y/N)'s neck.

"Cedric, hey, Cedric," (Y/N) shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up but he slept like a log, unbothered of her presence, "Cedric Diggory, wake up!"

"Yes, yes, I'm awake," Cedric said, shooting up and rubbing his eyes, "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter!? What's the matter, you ask!? You have to drop your daughter in school, don't you!?" (Y/N) yelled, glaring at Cedric as realisation hit him like a truck and he bolted out of his bed, yelling for his daughter incoherently.

"Dad shut up, please!" Charlotte yelled, placing her palm against her ears.

Cedric scoffed as (Y/N), watching the scene, chuckled, "Sorry, your highness, but do you or do you not wanna go to the school?"

"No, Cedric!" (Y/N) yelled, before Charlotte could answer, "You can't ask kids these sort of questions,"

She glared at him as he adjusted the hoodie he had worn inside out, "Angel, your ready?"

"No," she pouted. (Y/N) sighed and collected the girl in his arms and walked to the door, dragging Cedric behind her by the arm.

"I know, Angel, school is boring but you will get friends there and you will have cool teachers," (Y/N) explained to the little girl, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead.

Little Charlotte groaned and buried her into (Y/N)'s shoulder. The older girl grimaced and looked at Cedric, who mouthed, 'day off?'.

And (Y/N) mouthed, 'Absolutely not'.

Cedric sighed while she racked her brain for an idea, "Hey, Angel! Remember I gotta pick you up from school and for that, you should go to school first,"

At this, the little girl's head piped up, eyes shining. Charlotte wiggled her way down and took her father's hand dragging him hurriedly to the door.

the adults grinned and exchanged a look. "Bye!" Cedric yelled, involuntarily pecking her cheek as his daughter clung to his arm, pulling him with her.

Neither of them realised it until they turned around, frozen on the spot, a wooden door separating the two of them.

(Y/N) touched the spot he kissed, a warm blush forming on her face and butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach.

Cedric took Charlotte in his arms, dazedly, a fond smile on his face. He looked at the little girl that owned every bit of him and suddenly the smile collapsed, to him it was selfish, putting his stupid feelings before his daughter. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you, princess," he said.

"I love you too, papa, but we are really getting late," The two of them laughed.

Cedric whistled, scrolling through his phone as he waited for (Y/N) near her Hospital to get Charlotte.

"Hello," she greeted, taking a seat in the front, "How are you?"

"I am great. How was your day?" Cedric asked, closing his phone and starting the car.

(Y/N) hummed, "It was OK like it wasn't awesome but it wasn't the worst either,"

"A boring day,"

"I wouldn't say a boring day but um, uh, tedious day?"

"Really?"

"I am sorry," (Y/N) said, with a chuckle. They fell into a comfortable silence, the radio filling the car with soft music.

"Go in, I will park the car and come," Cedric said, as he stopped the car at the entrance of the school.

(Y/N) sauntered to the school, exploring around until one of the teachers saw her and asked, "Are you waiting for your child?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) said without hesitation but immediately realised that Charlotte was not her child, "No, not mine. I, uh, I am here for Charlotte Diggory,"

The teacher asked her to wait and moments later arrived with a couple of kids, beaming Charlotte in the middle.

The little girl opened her arms wide, as she ran to (Y/N), "(N/N)!"

"Hello, Angel!" she yelled, as the little girl jumped into her arms and twirled, "How was your day, peeps?"

"It was the best!" She threw her hand up in the air and giggled.

"Who is this, Charlotte?" A small voice asked from below. When they looked down they saw a cute little boy with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he would grow up to be a handsome man.

"This my," Charlotte stopped mid-sentence trying to figure who this amazing woman was to her, she hoped, no, wished that she would be something similar to a...mother.

"Friend?" (Y/N) suggested.

Charlotte smiled lightly, "Best friend! She is my best friend,"

"Hello, ladies," Cedric joined them, wiggling the keys in his fingers and took his daughter into his arms, "Hello, princess! How was your day!?"

"Woo!" She exclaimed.

Cedric scrunched his eyebrows, "Woo?" He looked behind his daughter at the woman who looked away a slight blush on her face. He chuckled shaking his head and that's when the little boy watching the interaction caught his eyes.

He let his daughter down and crouched to the little boy's height, "Hey Andy! How are you?"

"I am great Mr Diggory," The boy said, politely with a wide grin.

Cedric ruffled his hair and smiled.

"Oil! Cedric! Hey!" (Y/N) sighed exasperatedly, "Never know what the hell is happening in the home," she mumbled under her breath as she walked to his room.

"Dig-!" She stopped mid threat as she saw him sitting on the bed, Charlotte cuddled in his arms, her hands clutching his collar and her head on his shoulder, fast asleep.

(Y/N) bit her lips, "Is she sleeping?" She whispered, walking to the bed.

"Yes, so stop yelling," he whispered back.

"Sorry," she crouched before them and dragged a hand down Charlotte's face, pushing the hair on her face back, "She looks adorable,"

"She does, doesn't she?" He smiled, looking at his daughter fondly. And then his smile slipped, "I need a help from you,"

"What's it?" (Y/N) looked at him, "Is everything alright?"

"Tomorrow," Cedric took a deep breath, "Tomorrow I am having the hearing for the...divorce,"

"Oh," was all she could muster.

"So, can you watch Charlotte tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely, of course," she said, giving him a warm smile.

[entishramblings]

The Rings and Jewels Upon Your Ears - Sensitive Elf Ears [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: hey guys! here is another one shot about our favorite blue eyed elf that I wrote while procrastinating my fanfic because writers block!!! So enjoy this short fic about sensitive elf ears bc I am, and always will be, a slut for elf ear fics oop. Also if you do not have earrings I’m so sorry this was just an idea!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: Girl falls into middle earth and the elves of Mirkwood are confused about her earrings; most find it distasteful, but Legolas is fascinated!

Word Count: 2,246

Warnings: heated kissing (nothing further)

*all elvish was looked up online from numerous sources so please dont hate if it is not entirely correct*

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N)‘s stomach dropped and queasiness overtook her as she plummeted through the cold air. She tried to grasp onto something—anything—to stop her from plunging to her death. But no matter how much she reached outward, the only thing she held in her hands was dewy water and moisture—for the only thing to grasp was dark gloomy clouds. (Y/N)’s limps felt limp as freezing rain collected on her skin, soaking her to the bone; Her wet hair whipped around her face like an over-sized mop in a miniature tornado, inviting the thick strands to get stuck in her mouth. Her whole body was numb from the cutting cold as she spun downward. To make matter worse, she was 89% sure she had lost a shoe as her one foot felt significantly colder.

(Y/N) didn’t think the circumstance could possibly get more terrifying as her heart was already struck with paralyzing fear; but alas, it was just her luck. A brilliant bolt of light shuttered from the sky, zapping through the air right next to her. She was sure she could feel the electricity rushing through her blood as the thin hairs on her arm stood up.

This was it. This was how she would go out.

Suddenly, pain erupted up her spine. She felt her nerves become overloaded with intense agony that extended through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut.

It was over. She had hit the ground. She had met her end.

But when (Y/N) opened her eyes, she saw grey stone high above her.

She groaned loudly as she pulled her body into sitting position. Her back ached slightly but the pain was not anywhere near as severe as her shock. How was she not dead....or was this death? Her curious eyes wandered in examination of her surroundings. She was in a large dark corridor that had big archways and extravagantly carved doors scattered amongst the sides in an orderly pattern. The air felt eerie and sinister as she stumbled over the abandoned, smooth, stone floor. Anxiety crept into her soul.

So this what was the invitation of death felt like.

Alone, soaking wet, missing a shoe, and shrouded with fear.

How lovely.

(Y/N) was pulled from her thoughts as chaos surrounded her and grabbed her upper arms. This chaos was tall, long haired, strikingly gorgeous, and many in number. These strange people encircled her and bound her wrists while hollering words in a language she didn’t understand.

Her head spun, what was going on? was this the afterlife? if so, it was quite weird.....

She was in a daze as they dragged her through hallway after hallway; taking so many twists and turns she would never be able to find her way back—not that going to that spot again would help anything. Where ever she was, there was no escape.

(Y/N) was brought forth in front of a long blonde haired man highly decorated in silk and jewels. He sat upon a winding wooden throne and an elaborate crown made of branches and berries rested upon his head. In one word, any individual would describe him as: regal.

The peculiar people pushed her to her knees as he spoke. Words flowed from his mouth with a smooth, deep, and intimidating tone; but those words meant nothing to her as they were completely foreign to her brain.

Silence feel between them as they looked upon her, waiting. Waiting for what?!

He spoke again, anger and irritation tumbling from his lips.

Suddenly her head was grasped by warm hands and roughly tilted upwards and to the side. Her eyes met those of another that were strikingly blue. She gasped, from the shock and the slight pain that radiated through her neck. Another hand that did not belong to the man above her pulled her locks from her face. They all looked at her ear intently. Weird kink?

The one who freed her ear from the sopping mess she called hair spoke, “Est a- an elleth, ach nad othren est lheweg (she is a female elf, but something strange is upon her ear).”

Whatever he said, it was the cause of her head being viciously tilted once again.

The King hollered at her a second time, his displeasure and irritability obvious.

(Y/N) attempted to pull from the blue eyed man’s grasp but failed exceptionally, for his grip was taught.

More harsh words were thrown at her and the hold upon her squeezed tighter—initiating pain.

A slight whimper escaped her lips. The blue eyes above her seemed regretful and their owner drew his eyebrows together in concern and confusion.

(Y/N) looked up at him, her gaze meeting his.

“Please...” she whispered ever so quietly; she wasn’t even sure he could have heard her.

Instantaneously, his hands fell from their hold and the blue pooled with intrigued perplexity.

He spoke, his voice was powerful and commanding. “She speaks the common tongue.”

She felt the eyes of those around her pouring into her soul with confusion and the yearn for answers.

“What is the point of and elf who doesn’t understand Sindarian?” The regal figure spoke.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in bewilderment. “An elf?”

The King rolled his eyes, “Yes that is what you are, is it not? The tips of ears do not lie. Now speak quickly who sent you and how did you gain entrance?”

She looked about her dumbfounded as her gaze searched all the individuals ears—all pointy. Elves? When it dawned on her that she hadn’t answered the question, she spoke, “Sent me? I don’t even know where I am!”

Silence fell between every individual in the room and the tension lingered; she felt the agitation seeped into her skin as a shiver rippled through her body.

The King tilted his head slightly as he examined her. Only then did she realize just how unusual they really were. Their clothing was bizarre—old fashioned—and they were loaded with weapons; but no guns were in sight, they held bows in their callused hands and knives were strapped upon them. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought she fell into the past. But that would be impossible. However, one thing was certain: she couldn’t be dead.

“What did you do to your ear?” The King questioned.

She frowned, suddenly remembering her immediate reality, “You—you mean my earrings?”

“Yes, the rings and jewels upon your ears.”

(Y/N) was taken aback. What a strange question. She had a large amount of earrings; at least 8 or 9 on each side, placed differently on each ear. Did he not know of piercings? How big was the rock that these people lived under?

She chose her words carefully, by the way he spoke she figured he would not understand her normal slang. “They are for decoration—for beauty.”

He spoke again but his tone laced with disgust, “Why would you desecrate yourself in such a way?”

(Y/N) was filled with confusion. This was a normal custom where she was from. Quite rude for him to insult her in such a way.

When she offered no response the King turned to the man....or elf shall she say....that had held her taught. “Legolas, lock her in the dungeons.”

(Y/N) felt a lump in her throat. Dungeons....that could never be good.

The blonde elf pulled her up gently and led her away with other guards pursuing them closely. More winding halls and steep stairs became her only sight as she was ushered along.

......

The metal bars slammed in her face as she felt numb misery confine her soul. Was this to be her life now?

As the elves filtered out, one stayed behind. Legolas, she recalled his name. He was quite tall, but alas, they all were tall to (Y/N) for she had always been considered small. His face was proportional and structured as the shadows from the torches danced upon his form. His jaw line was sharp and defined while he stood before her with confidence. He definitely had a position of authority, she thought. Furthermore, His dark eyebrows were a contrast to his sleek blonde hair that was held back by three simple braids; but it did not look unfitting, rather it was quite suitable. His light pink lips were pulled into a line as his blue orbs gazed upon her. She could see him pondering the circumstances.

He spoke lightly, no animosity upon his tone. “You are not from here, are you?”

(Y/N) nodded. Her world felt so far away and the hopes of returning faded into the shadows as despair stretched across the corners of her mind.

......

Many months had past of (Y/N) living in a cell. Within this time, she had become quite friendly with Legolas—who she had found out was the son of the King. However, the blue eyed elf was nothing like his father. For starters, on the first night she arrived he brought her fresh clothing and a towel to dry her soaked self. Legolas was kind and patient. When she threw the fabrics back at him—screaming and hollering to be released—he did not lash out; she had a suspicion any other would. Looking back, (Y/N) realized that he must have suspected her entire world was turned upside down. I mean how often do you find out you had a species change and were transported to a different sphere of reality?

The Elven Prince came to visit her often and they would have long conversations. She told him of where she came from and he taught her of the new world she now lived in. He tutored her in the language of the elves—Sindarin—and spoke of their ways. They were creatures of intense, impressive, and impeccable skill who lived immortal lives. She could feel her senses heightening and improving as the day’s went on and her muscles began to strengthen. It took long for (Y/N) to wrap her head around her new reality; and how she became of it, she knew not.

It was evening when Legolas came to visit her once again. She smirked at him from behind the bars, “What do you have to bring me this time?”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lip. He held up a large, dark green book and slipped it through the metal shafts. “The history of Middle Earth. Teach yourself wisely.”

She grinned, “Thank you, Legolas.”

He turned to leave for he had other duties that his father insisted upon, but he hesitated. Legolas rotated his body to look at (Y/N) once more. His gaze lingered upon her exposed ears as her hair was tied back in a tight braid.

He spoke softly, “Did it hurt?”

Her brows knitted together, “Did what hurt?”

“Your ears—the jewelry.”

She shook her head, “No not really? Why do you ask?”

He took a couple steps towards her and a slight chuckled escaped his mouth, “An elf’s ears are very....sensitive.”

She tilted her head, “What do you mean?”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as he eliminated the space between himself and the bars.

“May I?”

(Y/N) took a step closer, so she too was against the thick metal rods. She could feel his hot breath upon her face as he looked down at her; She was sure he could hear her heart pounding for elves could pick up any sound—she could hear his. Legolas raised a hand through the bars and gently cupped one side of her face. He lightly touched the tip of her ear and trailed his finger down. (Y/N) gasped as the sensation shuttered throughout her entire being. She could see his blue eyes shift to her lips before locking back with her eyes once again. (Y/N) lifted her hand through the bars, her expression begging to commit the same action.

“(Y/N), you know not what you will do to me.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him. She did not heed his warning one bit; she grazed her finger along the edge of his ear.

Without warning both his hands flew through the bars; one wrapping around her waist and the other clutching her face. He forcefully yanked her body into his and smashed his lips against hers, both their faces pressing against the cold metal. The taste of mint and honey melded in her mouth as their lips moved in a gently rhythm, dancing against each other. (Y/N) snaked her arms up his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath his tunic, until she wrapped them around his neck—tangling her hands in his soft hair. She felt a heat rise from her stomach to her chest as she hungrily moved her mouth with his. When Legolas’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip, nearly all her thoughts silenced and her desire for him grew. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance; they battled for dominance.

Suddenly, the warmth was torn from her. Legolas pulled his head back and turned his face from her, but his hands would not move from their grasp. (Y/N)’s swollen lips parted as doubt flooded her, had she done something wrong?

His voice was one of a growl, “Look what you do to me.” His breathing was heavy and his chest was rising and falling. He turned his attention back to her, “You allow me to divulge in my impulses.”

(Y/N) smirked, “Is that such a bad thing?”

Legolas leaned his forehead against hers and he gave her a lopsided grin, “Never.”

[givemeweasley]

Back To You

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff and angst (sorry bout that), there’s also mentions of death

A/N: this ones not as long but I’m currently reading Deathly Hollows (yes I know what happens unfortunately) and I had to write this out because I couldn’t focus until it was. 

Back To You pt. 2

-----

“I don’t think you should come.” Fred sighed, crossing his arms.

 You were both sitting on Freds bed at the Burrow the day before you were going to be sent to take Harry. The other Weasleys were running around pretending not to want to listen in on your conversation. The only one who was genuinely busy was Mrs. Weasley in preparation for Fleur and Bills wedding in five days. 

“Fred, I’m not crazy about the idea either. But, Harry is our friend.” You tried to get Fred to meet your eyes, but he was determined to stare out the window.

“Mundungus could take your spot-”

“No one trusts him. There’s no point in risking it, especially when I’m here and willing to do it.” 

Fred uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his already messy hair. He stood up, beginning to pace the small room. “I don’t like it, Y/N.” His footsteps echoed. “It already feels like half the Weasleys are going and that just means less could come back.” 

He stopped and looked at you. “If you didn’t come back-”

You abruptly stood and gripped Fred’s cheeks between your palms. “Fred Weasley.” You licked your lips. “When have I ever not come back to you, Freddie?” Fred relaxed a fraction and closed his eyes. Your hands lowered and came to wrap around his midsection as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Never, love.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Just don’t start now.” Fred’s kisses started to lower. From your forehead, down until he reached your lips. You groaned against his mouth as he started to back you both up towards the bed. 

You began to laugh against his lips. “Fred-” You mumbled. “Fred!” You pulled away still giggling. But Fred wasn’t listening, he just fastened his lips to your neck and pushed you back onto his childhood bed. He climbed on top of you and swept down to kiss you again. Only your hands pressed against his chest pushing him away stopped him.

“What, woman? Can I not kiss my beautiful girlfriend?” The bastard was smirking. 

“Not if it leads to… things when your family is in the house!” You squealed as Fred pushed your hands aside and continued to kiss your neck, moving down to your collarbone. “Fred…” You groaned again.

 His lips left you for only a second as he looked up and smirked. He pulled out his hand and pointed it at the door without looking at it. “Muffliato!” He winked. “Problem solved.”

The complaints stopped pretty quickly after that. 

-----

You rode on the back of Mad-Eye’s broom with him. Your heart was pounding as your arms were wrapped tightly around Mad-Eye’s waist. Fear had been a pretty daily companion for a while now. Ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back. You couldn’t help but think about all the outcomes of the night. There were a lot of different combinations of who could die and who could live. Even you knew it was unlikely that you all came out of this unscathed. As long as Harry made it back safe, that was all you cared about. 

Well, that was a lie. 

You wanted everyone back safe, even at the cost of your own life. You knew that much. Especially Fred. You knew you couldn’t live without Fred, but you knew Fred would be alright without you. Not that you intended on dying that night. 

Did anyone ever intend on dying? 

You ignored that thought. 

Finally, Mad-Eye landed the both of you in front of 4 Privet Drive. Everyone hopped off their brooms or Thestral while Hagrid jumped from his motorbike. The lot of you strode inside, finally getting the chance to see where it was Harry grew up. Well, at least for you it was the first time.

 Fred immediately came to stand by your side, his hand wrapping around yours as Mad-Eye explained the plan to Harry. It was no surprise when he didn’t like it. “If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives-” Harry started.

“-because it’s the first time for all of us.” Ron replied rolling his eyes.

Fred leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You’d think after a time or two he’d get used to the fact that we’re helping him of our own free will.” 

You tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Would you?” Fred held his tongue at your response, choosing instead to respond to George’s comment.

“Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance.” Fred said, attempting to keep a straight face. You sent an elbow into his side that caused him to laugh rather than grimace. 

With a bit more arguing, Harry finally conceded and pulled out some of his hair for the Polyjuice Potion. Each of you received a small teacup filled with the golden substance. Before you knocked yours back you grabbed Fred by the collar and pulled him down to meet your lips. 

“Sorry.” You shrugged. “I didn’t want to have to kiss Harry as Harry.” Fred only laughed before drinking his, so you followed suit. The potion didn’t taste bad, surprisingly, it tasted like chocolate frogs.

 Suddenly, you felt your limbs grow and stretch. You hair warped and changed as you slowly became Harry Potter. You shifted from foot to foot feeling out your new body. You looked at Fred, who now looked like Harry. Then at George, who was also Harry. 

The both of them laughed before saying at the same time, “Wow- we’re identical!” 

You had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. 

“I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking.” Fred winked over at you. 

“Psh, George looks pretty dashing if I may say so.” You raised a brow as George shot Fred a smug look.

“Can’t disagree with your girlfriend there.”

With that, Mad-Eye was shoving a bag of clothes at the group of Harrys. You grabbed a random t-shirt and jeans and did your best to preserve Harry’s modesty. Plus, you really didn’t want to have that image scarred in your brain anymore than he wanted all his friends to know what his junk looked like. 

With everyone changed, Moody began dividing everyone up. You were to go with him. Fred with Mr. Weasley. Harry with Hagrid. 

When the time finally came, you all piled outside and got into position. You frantically searched for Fred’s gaze, even behind Harrys eyes.

 Luckily, he was already looking at you.

I love you. He mouthed.

Stay safe, Freddie. You mouthed back.

 And with that, you all shot into the sky. If your grip on Moody had been tight before, it was nothing compared to now. 

“Don’t worry, Potter. We’ll make it alright.” Mad-Eye said over the wind. You pursed your lips, a tight feeling in your gut. But he was right. The first few minutes of flying was peaceful. 

Until they weren’t.

Out of nowhere Death Eaters were circling you. 

Voldemort in the middle.

 Moody took off like a lightning bolt, you whipped out your wand and began to shout spells left and right. Barely aware of what was coming out of your mouth. You thanked Godric for the DA meetings which left you more equipped than you would’ve been otherwise.

“Impedimenta! Impedimenta! Petrificus Totalus!” You shouted pointing your wand in the direction the Death Eaters seemed to be. Fear raced through every vein in your body as flashes of green and red shot out all around you.

 You could hear Mad-Eye shouting curses and jinxes at the Death Eaters. You knew it was fruitless, when you turned to see Voldemort pointing his wand at you. 

“Avada Kedavra!” His voice hissed, the green light flashing towards you. Time slowed in that moment. 

You could see the green spell slowly making its way to you. But before it reached you, an unexplainable pain seized your body. You tipped backwards off the broom as your body shook with pain. You could barely focus as you watched the green light hit Mad-Eye. 

And then as if someone had hit play, everything came back in motion. Voldemort and the Death-Eaters disappeared all at once as you saw Moody’s body falling alongside you. You were screaming. The Cruciatus curse was reeking havoc on every inch of your body, yet it didn’t compare to the sight of dead Moody falling with you thousands of feet to the ground below. You knew you would die. But your fingers were still tightly gripping your wand. You had maybe seconds before you hit the ground. 

Fighting against the grinding of your teeth from pain, you spat. “Protego!” In hopes that it would shield you from the ground. It was your only hope.

 As you slammed into the shield, you almost blacked out. You managed to mutter one more spell before you left the world. 

Your last thoughts were on a boy with beautiful red hair and kind brown eyes, whom you loved more than anyone in the world.

-----

Bill and Fleur stumbled in at last. Mr. Weasley ran over to check up on them. But Bill looked pale and shook his head.

“Mad-Eye is dead.” Bill choked out. Fred and George stopped laughing.

 Fred stood up from his brothers side. Bill seemed not to want to meet his eyes. His head hung. 

Fred opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mr. Weasley seemed to understand his dilemma, swallowing, and asked the question no one else seemed to want to ask. 

“And Y/N?” 

Fleur released a wretched sob and clung to Bill's arm. Bill only shook his head.

 No one seemed to want to look at Fred who was still standing. George attempted to sit up and grab Fred's hand, but Fred’s hand just hung limply in his brother's firm grip. 

“What happened?” Mr. Weasley choked out. 

Bill cleared his throat. “They appeared out of nowhere. Y/N and Moody started firing of spells and jinxes when Voldemort aimed a the killing curse at Y/N-”

Fred collapsed to his knees, but Bill pressed on.

“But another Death Eater hit her with the Cruciatus curse and she fell off the broom. The Killing curse hit Moody who then fell off the broom with her. I- I tried to see if she was still alive-” 

“‘Zey were everywhere.” Fleur mumbled, still wiping tears from her eyes. “I ‘eard her scream cut off when she ‘it za ground.” Fleur stared at the floor like she would be hearing that sound as long as she lived. 

“No.” Fred groaned from the floor, his hands pressed over his temples as he gripped his hair seemingly on the verge of tearing it out. “No.” His cry felt as if someone's heart had been torn out of their chest and crushed. Which was very likely how Fred felt. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he sobbed openly on the floor of the living room.

 Mr. and Mrs. Weasley converged around him almost immediately. But before they could wrap their arms around him, his head snapped up. His eyes were red, his face contorted into one of absolute agony. 

“Why didn’t you go back for her?!” Fred shouted, his voice cracking. “She could’ve been alive-” But his voice broke under the weight of his cries. 

Mr. Weasley wrapped his arms around his shaking son, as George looked on helplessly from the couch. “Fred, there was nothing they could’ve done.” Mr. Weasley mumbled quietly. 

But Fred could only cry and moan in pain. After a few minutes, George couldn’t stand it and despite the pain, shifted off the couch and pushed his parents aside as he pulled Fred into his embrace. Fred and George sat there clinging to each other as they both cried for the girl Fred was in love with. For the girl that died.

 -----

Fred had been doing nothing but laying in bed for four days. He knew Fleur and Bills wedding was the next day, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be excited about anything at the moment. His chest felt empty. He should be glad no one else died. That’s what he kept trying to tell himself, but to no avail.

 It’s not fair. 

She said she would always come back to me. 

Fred tried desperately to cry, but his tear ducts were dry. He was all cried out, it would seem. Every now and then, someone would stop by and knock on his door to make sure he was alright. But Fred couldn’t answer.

 He could barely talk to George.

 A loud commotion rang out from the living room beneath him. Fred simply turned over on his bed, facing away from the door. Fred couldn’t take another guest for the wedding. Not now. Not when the very thought of marriage made him sick. 

But the voices were slowly becoming more frantic and clearer. 

“Wait!” His mothers voice rang the clearest. “Please, dear! You shouldn't be-”

 A knock resounded on his door. 

He ignored it.

The knock sounded again.

 “Dear!” His mothers voice called.

A loud thud echoed into his room from the hall. Fred whipped out of his bed, wanting to know what was so important they had to bother him. Fred wrenched his bedroom door open to see practically the entire Weasley household a few feet back from his door crammed into the hall glancing from him to the floor in front of him. Fred furrowed his brow. 

A hand gripped his ankle. 

He looked down and tears gathered in his eyes. 

“Told you I’d always come back to you, Freddie.” 

Taglist: @huffledor-able541​

let me know if you want to be on the taglist :)

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[gaycrouton]

making it personal

post-one son | msr | smutty | 1/6k | ao3

mulder coming over to scully’s apartment to make amends

"You're making this personal."

The words danced in her head as she laid on her bed, wrapped in a towel, warm, and flushed from the shower. She felt hot tears of indignant fury stream down her cheeks as she stared blankly at the ceiling. How could he say that to her? After all she-after all they had been through?

A sob ripped from her throat and the force made her body bounce on the bed, only for her to freeze when she heard the sound of her front door shutting. She sat up quickly, glancing from nightstand to nightstand as she heard heavy footsteps quickly coming down the hallway.

"Scully?" Mulder's familiar voice called out, and she half considered that, despite the comfort of it not being a home invasion, maybe she should keep looking for her gun anyway.

"What, Mulder?" she snapped, moving so her feet were dangling off the side of the bed while she was clutching her towel to her chest, not having enough time to grab a robe.

Suddenly he was in the doorframe, his eyes widening and darkening at the sight of her. But instead of letting her get dressed, he closed the distance, coming to stand right in front of her knees. "Mulder," she admonished, surprised at his sudden proximity to her.

"Scully, I'm so sorry," he lamented.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she spat, not prepared to let a simple apology excuse what he'd said.

"I'm exactly where I need to be right now. There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he stated firmly.

She didn't respond and Mulder was silent for a moment as she just stared forward, looking through him. Then she felt one hand cup her cheek and coaxed her face upwards towards him. "You've been crying," he whispered, his face taking on a perfect mask of sadness and regret.

"How could you say that to me?" she asked, her voice cracking as a tear slid down her cheek, his thumb not quick enough to catch it before it hit her chest. "I thought I meant more to you than that. After all we've been through."

"Scully," he whispered, sitting down next to her on the bed. He was so close that his body moving against hers started to undo the fold of the towel, dragging it down slightly before she brought her hand up and clutched the fabric to her chest. Her nudity was the least of her concerns right now. "You're so much more than you could ever know."

"You don't give me a chance to know, Mulder!" she snapped, her voice rising. "Ever since Diana Fowley came back into your life, you've made me feel like second best. A consolation prize. It's obvious how much you prefer her to me." She didn't care if she was being catty, she was sick of holding her feelings in.

"Last I've checked, my name is on most of those files," she continued. "I have a file dedicated to me because of my personal interest in our work. What has she done other than turn our lives upside down?"

"You're right," he agreed.

That had been what she wanted to hear, but wasn't expecting, and it caused her to turn and look at him. He was so close to her and he was looking at her with such tenderness and affection. "Diana is insignificant compared to the way I feel about you, Scully. You have to know that."

She felt her breath hitch at his admission. "The way you feel about me?" she repeated, her voice breathier than she'd wanted.

Instead of answering, he leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. It caused her to gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss, gliding his tongue against hers tentatively. When she opened her mouth more in acceptance, he took initiative to put one hand on her waist as the other slid into her hair.

Mulder was kissing her and the thought made her feel light headed. Not only was he kissing her, but he was phenomenal at it; she'd never felt so aroused by just a kiss alone. He pulled back when he needed a breath, but barely took time to do so before his lips were at the column of her throat.

"How could you ever think she'd mean more to me than you?" he asked, nipping and soothing her skin.

Scully barely felt coherent as she felt her body humming in response to his touch, her core aching with throbbing need. "You don't listen to m-ah!" she whimpered as he nipped at the skin beneath her ear.

His hand tightened in her hair and the feeling of the strands being pulled made her whole body shiver, much to his delight. Mulder pulled away to look at her, his face only a few inches from her own. "I hang off your every word, Scully. Without you, I'm lost."

He pressed his mouth to hers again, and this time he brought a hand up to hers and loosened her grasp on the towel, causing it to flutter down into her lap. His hand quickly found her breast as if it was second nature, and he tweaked her pebbled nipple while exploring the weight in his palm.

He moaned into her mouth and she felt her arousal start to dampen the towel she was sitting on. Mulder pulled away again and rasped, "I'm going to show you how much you mean to me."

Scully's brain could hardly focus on what he was saying since she was so drunk with lust. She watched as he fell to his knees in front of her and parted her thighs, baring herself to him. "You're so beautiful," he praised, using two fingers to tentatively part her labia. She gasped and her toes clenched as she felt him gently press into her with one finger, her heat clamping down on the digit.

His eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in deeper, curving his finger right on her g-spot as if he instinctively knew where it was. A breathy, high-pitched whine left her lips as her body reacted to the sensation. "Is this okay?" he asked huskily, his voice lower than she'd ever heard before.

It sent a bolt of arousal down her spine, and she had no doubt he felt her get wetter around his finger. "M-more," she begged.

He nodded and slid a second finger in, stretching her walls around him. Scully's head fell onto her shoulder as her back arched slightly, wanting to bring him deeper in. Her eyes had closed for only a moment before she felt a new, inexplicably wonderful sensation erupt on her clit. She opened her eyes an was met with the sight of Mulder with his mouth on her, his eyes boring into hers while he continued fucking her with his fingers.

"Oh my god," she moaned, undulating her hips against him in needy desperation.

She usually only could come this fast when she was by herself, but she was being driven crazy, overwhelmed and fully consumed by Mulder. Those lips she'd spent so many years looking at were currently playing with her clit and driving her wild. His tongue was dancing between pressure and gentle flicks and she swore she was incoherent with lust.

"Do you have any idea the things you do to me?" he rasped, the vibrations against her making her legs quiver on his shoulders.

She did have an idea, she could feel the bed move from the way he was grinding against it. As if his hips were desperately mimicking what his fingers were doing. She could tell he could barely contain just how much he wanted to fuck her, but he was putting her first and it made her feel loved.

"You're incredible," he groaned before flicking his tongue against her.

Her breath started hitching and she began squirming on the bed uncontrollably, her orgasm building rapidly and she couldn't handle how much she wanted it. Mulder picked up on the signs of her impending orgasm and became unrelenting in his efforts, his tongue not letting up while his fingers rubbed against her g-spot.

She gasped a lungful of breath as her orgasm tore through her, feeling like her entire body was set ablaze from Mulder's touch. Her hands clutched the bedspread while her hips bucked against him and her legs shook. Mulder rode out the orgasm with her, hips grinding against the mattress in desire of his own climax.

He pulled his mouth off of her and grinned at her breathlessly, her arousal coating his mouth. He kissed the inside of her thigh lovingly before whispering her name, "Diana."

Scully's eyes shot open as adrenaline coursed through her body. Her towel had fallen off because of her ministrations and her hand was shaking in between her legs.

Her face crumpled as her fantasy shattered around her. Mulder wasn't here, and none of that was true. She couldn't even convince herself she mattered to him more than Diana in her own fantasy.

It had felt like they'd been getting closer, like there was a chance something might happen. But she was never one to listen to her heart before her mind, and she'd waited. Now, by the time she'd finally allowed herself to acknowledge just how much she loved Mulder, she was too late.

It was all far too personal for her now, and she felt her heart start to ache in her chest.

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” “Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 2/4: Prisoner

Ch 1

Eda perched on a chair, watching her new prisoner. “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Lilith finished tying Hunter to a chair with a roll of her eyes. “If I hit him hard enough, not for a while.”

“Should we… try to wake him up?”

“Titan’s veins, Edalyn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious before.”

“I’ve never kept a coven head tied up in my basement before!” Eda peered at him. “What does he even eat?”

“Nothing. He photosynthesizes. I don’t know, Eda, probably the same thing we eat. He’s a witch, after all.”

“He’s a powerless witch. What if they have human diets?”

“I—this is ridiculous. Keeping prisoners isn’t that scary, I’ll walk you through it.”

Eda squinted at her sister. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that you were…” she rolled a hand. “A horrible person.”

“Hmph.”

Hunter groaned, and Eda grinned. “Guess you didn’t hit him hard enough.”

Hunter’s eyes shot open, and he glanced around wildly, kicking his feet and straining against his bonds. “Wha—where-?”

His kicking knocked over the chair, and he fell backwards with a crash. “Ow.”

Eda snorted. “Behold, the mighty head of the emperor’s coven.”

“Oh, great. It’s you.”

Eda picked the chair up, flicking Hunter’s head. “YYYYYep. Nice to see you too, nerd.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Ugh—Darius! What happened to him?! Where’d he go?!”

Lilith studied her nails. “He left you high and dry. He didn’t care if we captured or killed you. You know how it is.”

“Is this the part where you try to convince me to, as we say in the coven, pull a Lilith, betray the emperor horribly, and end up sad and lonely?”

“They do not say that!”

“I don’t want you on our side,” Eda interrupted, shooting her sister a “don’t react” look, “I wouldn’t trust you for a second. I want you to tell me what happened to Raine Whispers.”

Hunter leaned back as best he could while tied up, looking bored. “The emperor killed them slowly and painfully. Next question?”

Eda’s heart stuttered dangerously in her chest. “Liar,” she snarled, “Your precious emperor hasn’t appointed a new coven head yet—so Raine’s still alive. Where are they?!”

Hunter clicked his tongue. “Let’s see… coven head prisoner, coven head prisoner, mmmmmm doesn’t ring any bells.”

Lilith put a hand on Eda’s shoulder as she growled. “Oh, Hunter. Your bravado isn’t fooling anyone. You know how the emperor’s coven works as well as I. No one is coming for you. There is no holding out until rescue, because there will be no rescue. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be—who are you even keeping quiet for? An emperor who doesn’t care enough about you to come for you? Just tell us what you know about the bard coven head.”

He rocked back and forth in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, unconcerned. “Or what? You’ll torture me?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want.” She turned to go. “Excuse me. I need to gather a few things.” She strode back up the basement stairs, leaving Eda and Hunter alone.

Eda rocked back and forth on her heels. “So… how’s that portal coming along? Got enough titan’s blood?

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Mmm.” Eda clicked her tongue. What did Lilith need that was taking this long? “Soooooo… what now?”

“This is the first time you’ve taken a prisoner, isn’t it.”

“No!”

“Uh-huh. Alright. While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing? Oh titan’s heart, oh titan’s heart,” he started howling in an off-key voice, “we the covens are loyal to thee!”

“UUUUUGH,” Eda groaned, “Stop that, or I’m going to gag you!”

“We pledge our lives, our magics, our hearts to yours! When you call, we heed your voice!”

Eda stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. “That kid is the most annoying creature in existence!” Her sister was lying on the couch, reading a book, and Eda leaned on the back of the couch, looking down at her. “What are you doing? I thought you were getting something?”

“No. I just want him to think I am. Let him sweat and squirm. Let him think about all of the horrible things I might be planning to do to him.”

“Let him freak himself out. Devious, Lili.”

“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Let him imagine the worst. But now that you’ve come up, too, we can just… leave him.”

“I’m not sure how that—”

“Leave him alone long enough, and he’ll start to wonder if we’re coming back. He’ll start to wonder if we had to leave for some reason, and we left him. He’ll start thinking that if we did have to leave, there’s no one to let him out. That he’s trapped down there. At first he’ll tell himself not to worry, that we’ll come back down for him eventually. Then, as time wears on, and he has no idea how long it’s been, he’ll start calling for help, thinking we’re gone.”

“And that’s when we go down?” Eda interjected, “When he’ll be happy to see us?”

“No, Edalyn. We wait for him to stop calling. We wait for him to give up, thinking that no one will come for him. We let him wallow in the fear that he’ll starve down there, tied up, and then, then we return.”

Eda scooted away from her sister. “… have I ever mentioned how incredibly glad I am that you changed sides?”

“You could stand to mention it more.”

“You’re not gonna… actually torture him, are you?”

“Physically? I wasn’t planning on it, no, why, do you want me to?”

“Titan! Lilith, no!”

Lilith shrugged. “To each their own. He’s probably not feeling too well—a blow to the head is no joke, and neither was that spell he took for Darius. He’ll spill.”

“He seemed fine to me. Just as annoying as ever.”

“It’s an act. Bravado. He’s hurt, he was just flat-out betrayed and abandoned by the person he was protecting, and he’s captured with no hope of rescue, because he knows that’s not how the emperor’s coven works. He’s a resilient pest, but all of that will take its toll quickly. Give him a few hours, and he’ll crack.” Lilith hesitated. “But… Eda… about rescuing Raine, should they still be alive…”

“What?”

“I’m just… not entirely certain it’s the best plan.”

“I can’t just leave them!”

“I know you don’t want to, but… we have the upper hand over Belos at the moment. We have his right hand, a coven leader, in our grasp. We’ve put his day of unity plans to a grinding halt. We go running off on a hare-brained rescue mission? If one of us gets caught, it’s all over.”

A new plan quietly clicked into place in Eda’s head. “We have the coven head. We have the right hand of Belos. Why not make a trade? His precious golden brat for Raine! Either way, we end up with a coven head, so we won’t be giving up our advantage, but this way, we’ll have Raine, who will fight with us, instead of the brat tied up in my basement!”

Lilith sat bolt upright on the couch. “Are you insane?” she hissed, “You want to try to ransom him back?! Edalyn, an attempt to negotiate with the emperor will go very, very badly! Let’s say we achieve the best case scenario, let’s say Belos agrees to the trade and we get Raine back. The emperor will not stop hunting us down. When I was attempting to capture you, it was just that—capture. If you try to make a deal, trade hostages? Belos will want you dead. Even having kidnapped the golden guard is risky—for now, Hunter could be anywhere, no one knows we took him. But if Belos finds out? We may as well start writing our obituaries now.”

“Fine.” Eda growled in frustration. “It’s just—I don’t want to leave them, if they are alive! It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I know. We just have to be patient. And after the Day of Unity passes, we can go after them. I promise I will help you retrieve Raine.”

“Helloooooo?” Hunter’s voice called up from the basement, “Are we gonna get this interrogation going, or what? I’ve got places to be!”

Lilith motioned for Eda to stay quiet. “Here we go,” she whispered.

“Traitor? Crazy owl lady? You there?”

Eda head a scraping noise, as if Hunter was dragging the chair he was tied to across the floor. There was a pause, then, “Titan, there’s stairs. Helloooooo?” Another pause. “Okay, I’m going to escape now! Anyone up there to stop me? No? Okay!”

“Should we go down there?” Eda murmured to Lilith. Her sister shook her head.

“He can’t get out of that chair, you heard him about the stairs.”

“I mean it! I’m breaking out of here! Oh, look, I’ve got the ropes off! No? Nobody?” Then, a little more quietly, “Guess they’re gone.”

Eda heard a lot of thumping, and then an ‘ow.’ She snorted softly. “Sounds like he’s knocked himself over again.”

Lilith pulled her away from the basement door and into the kitchen. “Give him a bit.” She started flipping through one of Eda’s potion books. “Any chance one of these has a truth potion recipe in here?”

“No, but I think there’s a knockout potion somewhere. If he keeps trying to sing, I might use it.”

Lilith snorted. “Right. I’ll go ahead and brew that. Forget feeding it to him, if I have to talk to him for much longer, I’m going to want it for myself. Where do you keep your sleeping nettles?”

“Cupboard by the trashcan, do NOT let Hooty know where they are.” Eda paced the kitchen. “What if he is in the middle of escaping?”

“He’s concussed, has short little legs and no staff. He won’t get far.”

Eda snapped her fingers. “No staff! Where’s his little palisman, I didn’t see it!”

Lilith stopped mid-stir. “Palisman?! Him?!”

“Yeah, he has a little cardinal palisman.”

“Belos hates wild magic! Do you know what it took for me to keep a hold of my palisman?! You’re telling me that Hunter hasn’t just got a palisman, he’s hiding it from Belos?”

“I guess. What’s the big deal?”

Lilith laughed. “Oh, he is in for it when Belos finds out! See if he’s still the favorite then!”

“…Lili, you’re not in the emperor’s coven anymore.”

Her sister resumed stirring her potion. “I know that.”

“And we aren’t going to use Hunter’s palisman as leverage against him, okay? I want more info about Raine, but I’m not going to threaten an innocent palisman to get it.”

“Fine.” Lilith set her spoon down. “I think it’s about time we check in on him. Let’s see how much he’s panicking.

When they got down the basement stairs, Hunter was asleep. Eda snorted, setting the chair upright again. “So much for that idea.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Lilith growled.

Hunter opened his eyes with a smug look that Eda was relatively certain meant he’d never actually been asleep. “Oh, hey, when did you guys get here? Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

Lilith lunged towards Hunter, and Eda had to hold her back. “You are a horrible, conniving little brat, and if I never saw you again, I could die happy!”

“Oooo, might want to watch that temper, Lilith, isn’t that how you got beaten by your sister so many times?”

Lilith’s nostrils flared, and she stopped trying to get past Eda, taking a deep breath and smoothing her hair. “Laugh all you want, brat. I may be out of the coven, but at least I chose to go. Unlike you.”

“I’m not leaving the coven. I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to go back, and y’know what, I’m going to drag both of you with me, and this time we’ll finish the petrification process.”

Lilith chuckled. “Oh, Hunter. You don’t really think you can go back, do you? Not after you failed like this.”

For the first time since he’d gotten here, fear flashed in Hunter’s eyes. “I didn’t fail,” he said defensively, “Darius got away—I protected him from your assassination plot. I completed my mission—you failed.”

“But you were captured,” Lilith said softly, leaning in close to him, “Of course you carried out your mission—but you’ve still failed the emperor. You lost. To us. How humiliating.”

“I only lost because that coward Darius used me as a meat shield,” Hunter snarled, “It wasn’t my fault!”

Lilith laughed softly, pulling away. “Do you really think the emperor will accept that excuse? You know as well as I that you cannot blame others for your own mediocracy.”

The shift in Hunter’s attitude… Eda wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Lilith had gone from dancing to Hunter’s tune and rising to his taunts to playing the flute herself. Hunter was a marionette on her strings. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Hey, Lili? A word?”

She pulled Lilith upstairs, shutting the door so that Hunter couldn’t hear them. “What was that?!” she hissed.

“I know how the emperor’s coven works. I know how Belos works. I know how he treats people—you could hurt Hunter physically all you wanted, and he wouldn’t give up anything.”

“So you play mind games with him, Lili? That’s just cruel. Did you see his face when you said he’d failed Belos? That wasn’t just worry, that was terror. You really freaked him out, and I don’t like how you’re going about this.”

Lilith pointed at the door. “I’ve seen hardened demons break down at the idea that they’ve been left locked up with no hope of anyone ever coming for them. Do you want to know why it didn’t work on him, Eda? Because he was trained in the exact same torture methods I was. He’s the head of the emperor’s coven at age sixteen. Do you know how you get there? It isn’t by being an innocent kid, I can tell you that. Neither of us could kill him. But he’s dangerous, and Belos is the only one who could ever keep him in control. You heard him! He would drag us to our own petrification in a heartbeat! So if I have to invoke his fear of Belos to keep him from hurting you or I, I will!”

“Lilith—”

“When you first met him, he threatened King to get you and Luz to do what he wanted. He is not some cute little witchling who will roll over for belly rubs, he’s a lethal, dangerously unstable individual who is dead loyal to Belos and will stop at nothing to please him.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. It still doesn’t feel right, Lilith. And I don’t think it’ll make him crack.”

“Oh, please, he was about to be putty in my hands.”

“You make him scared of what Belos will do to him because he failed? He’ll just start thinking about how much worse it will be for him if he gives up information. No more head games, Lilith. I don’t like it, and I don’t like how much you’re acting like you did when you were in the coven.”

“Yes, because it’s effective. Good luck getting any information out of him.”

Eda grabbed her sister’s hands. “I don’t want to win by losing you. I’m not going to risk you reverting to your coven ways like that—you’ve come so far, and it’s not fair to put you in a situation where you’ll backslide.” Eda squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away. “You were right. Raine will have to wait.” It felt like a betrayal just saying it, but she couldn’t say anything else—Raine had risked everything to make sure that she, at least, could get away. Throwing that away based off of information they got from Hunter of all people would be disrespectful of their sacrifice. “We just need to ride out this storm. No more interrogations—we’re not going to just let him go, but we’re not going to hurt him, either. Okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Eda plucked a feather off of her sister’s arm. “This isn’t helping you—it’s making you worse. So trust me, Lilith—it is what I want.”

Xxx

Darius growled, kicking at a burned clump of vines. Of course the Golden Guard wasn’t here—he hadn’t really expected him to be, but it would have been nice. Right. Well, he could do a grueling search of the area—or worse, call in Eberwolf to help track the Golden Guard down.

Oooooor he could interrogate the last people to have seen him—his would-be assassins. He hadn’t seen their faces—the smokescreen had ensured that. But he had thought he’d heard a familiar voice.

Darius turned towards the Clawthorne estate. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Ch 3