#i went home and cried thinking i had been stupid enough to get brainwashed by Big Academia

[tacozebra051]

s1

i’m watching this documentary about halloween and there’s a part where they’re explaining that ghost stories got really popular around the civil war no one could really deal with how many people went off and died and

the narrator just said 

“the first ghost stories were really about coming home”

fuck 

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Nosy

Summary: The team notices Bucky sneaking off the compound every weekend. Now they’re standing outside of an apartment in Brooklyn while Redwing spies out the window.

Warnings: Language, smut, sex tape, daddy kink

Pairings: Bucky x Black!Reader

(A/N: This is a rewrite of Bucky’s Secret Life because 😬. Anyway enjoy. Likes and reblogs are great thanks.)

“C’mon, aren’t you a little curious?”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes as Tony nudged him. Bucky had been acting a little stranger than usual. If they didn’t have a mission he was leaving in the evening on Friday to come home Sunday nights. This had become a weekly basis kind of thing to the point where he didn’t even show up to parties unless it was something completely mandatory.

It’s not like Steve had never asked him about it. Bucky was his best friend and of course he was curious why he was so hush hush. He hadn’t been expecting for him to freeze up and stutter his way around giving him any details. 

It was killing Sam the most because of course he was nosey as hell and between the three of them, he hated not being in the know. Natasha was even curious. Wanda kind of knew, but that’s because she couldn’t help the things she saw. Besides it wasn’t her place to tell. 

Because what Wanda had been seeing when she’d get a glimpse into his mind were filthy. Absolutely fucking filthy. The images flashing into her mind of him and the same naked woman that he was doing unspeakable things to. It played like porn, but they were clearly memories. She stayed quiet because it was none of her business.

“Why don’t we mind our own business,” Bruce suggested. “Bucky’s been through a lot. Maybe he’s just unwinding.”

“Bruce is right.” Steve smiled at the scientist, appreciative at him for speaking up.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, shrugging her shoulders. “Is he, though?” She replied. “What if he’s doing something dangerous. He could still be having issues.”

“True,” Rhodey finally giving his input from his spot at the table beside Tony. “We would rather be safe than sorry.”

Steve groaned. “Fine.”

Steve reluctantly trailed behind Natasha, Sam, and Tony as they followed Bucky the next weekend. They went about their day as normal as possible. They didn’t want him to get suspicious. As soon as he’d left they had Friday give them the word so they could make their move after. Sam had even had Redwing follow after him. 

“Guys, Bruce is right. We should leave it alone,” Steve tried to reason with them as they’d finally ended up outside of an apartment in Brooklyn. 

“No,” Sam said, as they tried to act nonchalant waiting for someone to open up the door. “We’re here let’s do this.”

Bucky placed his hands underneath your ass, balancing himself as he rammed into you. Your hands were splayed above your head as you took it. For someone who literally couldn’t get drunk he found something so intoxicating with the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to capture your nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the brown nub.

You could feel yourself getting so close, but you weren’t allowed to come without permission. Since you weren’t in the mood to be punishes you obeyed him. You wanted to be a good girl for him this weekend after the way he’d made it hard for you to sit after you acted like a brat last time.

You’d made dinner, but it had been abandoned in favor of him dicking you down. He just couldn’t wait any longer to have your tight pussy wrapped around his dick. The plan was supposed to be a romantic evening with a home-cooked meal like you usually did on Friday nights. Saturday’s were usually for junk food as you spent the day either binge watching shows and fucking. It was the routine when he wasn’t busy with work.

It sucked that it felt like you’d never have a life outside of this apartment, but Bucky only needed a little bit longer. He needed to make sure there was nothing that could hurt you once your relationship became public. He’d seen to many romances end in tragedy and it scared him. He’d be damned if something bad happened to you.

His cock was stretching you wide open. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you moaned, leaning up so you could wrap your arms around his neck and then press your lips to his. He didn’t let up as he let you fall onto your back. He moved his hands from your ass to your legs to bring your knees to your chest.

He was so much deeper in this angle. Your head was swimmings you moaned into his ear, throwing your head back. “God, yes!”

“That’s it, Doll,” he moaned, leaning down to kiss you again. His tongue was in your mouth and you struggled to keep up because of how hard he was fucking you. Fuck you love it when you were at his mercy. In these moments it felt like he owned every inch of you.

The knock on the door brought the two of you out of your bubble. Bucky didn’t let up, though, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and leave when you didn’t answer. He needed to make his girl cum first. Whoever was on the other side could wait.

She nodded with a whimper, feeling too blissed-out to even do anything, except for what you were told. You were so close. The way you tightened around him. Pussy hugging his dick like it was afraid to let go. You whined as your juices seeped out of you.

“Can I cum?” You whimpered out. 

“Yeah, Doll.” He grinned down at you through his pleasure. He couldn’t help himself. You were to damn cute like this. All spread open taking every inch of him. Those noises sounding so good coming out of your mouth as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You cried out, hips moving to meet his thrusts. That coil finally snapped in your stomach as you came around him. Metal wrapping around your neck while your fingernails dug into his back,

He was determined to make you cum again. Except there was another knock on the door. This one louder, angrier. Bucky groaned, irritated already at whoever was interrupting. “Fuck,” he mouthed, jaw clenching. “I’ll get it. You stay right here, okay.”

You nodded unable to use your words as he pulled out. He covered you with the duvet, kissing your forehead lovingly as if he hadn’t just rearranged your guts. He slid on a pair of sweats and a red t-shirt - yes he kept clothes at your apartment. It was easier so he didn’t have to pack anything. Besides he knew you were wearing his hoodies when he wasn’t around. Yes even though you spent most of your time together naked, it was just more convenient.

Your head was resting on your pillow as you watched him walk through the door with half-lidded eyes. A dopey smile had spread across your face, snuggling under the covers as you waiting for him to come back.

Bucky looked through the peephole, then backed up seeing Steve on the other side. “What the fuck...”

“Bucky, c’mon, we know you’re in there,” the blond said through the door.

“We?” He frowned before opening it, but not undoing the chain. He could peek out just enough to see Natasha who was standing beside him with a little bit of Sam behind her and what he assumed was Tony next to him by the sudden waft of Axe Body Spray. “What are you doing here?”

Tony huffed. “Just let us in.”

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You guys should leave.”

“We’re just making sure you’re okay,” Nat said, trying to at least get a glimpse inside. It looked like a normal apartment, but Bucky’s body was blocking whatever else she could see.

“Gotta make sure you aren’t doing anything dumb,” Sam said.

“We were worried,” Natasha added.

Bucky scrunched up his face even more. “Worried about what?”

Just then you screamed from the bedroom. Bucky’s heart dropped as he heard you because if anything had ever happened to you he’d probably murder someone. His first thought was that they followed you which led to someone following them as he ran back to the bedroom. 

You were standing there with one of your many throw blankets covering you. So you were okay. As he walked over to you, he grabbed your hand. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

“There’s something in the window,” she breathed, now standing behind him for cover. Whatever it was, her super soldier serum, metal armed boyfriend could take care of it.

They finally felt victorious as Bucky fully opened the door. Until Redwing was thrown out. “Sam, what the fuck!”

“Hey!” The other man gasped, seeing his beloved bird on the ground before picking it up to cradle it into his arms.

“Who was that?” Natasha asked with a smirk on her face now. 

“My girlfriend! I’ve been seeing someone! Is that a crime.” He threw his hands up. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to date.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and sighed. “See I told you guys this was stupid.”

Tony pouted, crossing his arms like he was disappointed. “I was so sure you were being brainwashed again. I was actually ready for a little action.” 

“It’s not his brain being washed,” Sam said with a similar smirk to the one Natasha wore before frowning as he looked down at the slightly broken Redwing. Bucky wanted to hit him so bad.

“Baby, is everything okay?” You asked, walking into the room with wobbly legs after hearing her boyfriend raise his voice.You’d slipped on the matching sweatshirt to his sweatpants. It was really baggy. Hitting you mid-thigh. All he could think suddenly was that god you better be wearing panties. Or else you’ll be getting that punishment you’d been trying to avoid this weekend.

“Yeah, Doll. They were just leaving.” His face softened. Although you saw him in a sexy dominating way, you never saw him genuinely angry. Even the few times you’d argued he never even raised his voice. He was so afraid of scaring you away that when he was around he softened himself. So now that you were so close he had to show a little restraint.

“So, this is her!” Sam asked, surprised as hell at seeing that Bucky really was hiding a girlfriend. “Hi, I’m Sam and you are?”

“Y/N,” you replied, politely, offering up a small smile. Yet on the inside you actually wanted to run and hide. This was not apart of the plan for when you finally met everyone. Besides you probably looked like shit after what Bucky had just done to you.

“I’m Natasha!” The red head chirped so unlike herself leading the four men to look down at her like she’d grown another head.”This is Steve and Tony.” 

It wasn’t very often that Tony Stark was speechless, but there he was as quiet as a mouse. All because the tin man had a girlfriend. A cute brown skinned girlfriend who was wearing his clothes. 

“Doll, why don’t you wait for me in the room,” Bucky said. “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Okay, D- Bucky...” you caught yourself leaning over to kiss his cheek before doing as you were told. 

He stared at her to make sure she got in the room before opening his mouth again. “Now will you leave. I’ll deal with you all and we can maybe have a team meeting about how important privacy is.” He glared at Tony who loved those little meetings about whoever was putting coffee grounds into the sink.

It was Vision.

Obviously.

At first. 

Until it became a fun little game for everyone to do to irritate the shit out of him. It was terrible yes, but his reactions were so, so, so entertaining.

The three grumbled to each other as they started to walk away, while Steve stood there shaking his head. “Sorry about this, Buck. I told them to leave you alone, but you know how they can be.”

“It’s fine.” He sighed. “I was just hoping to keep her all to myself for a little while.”

“She seems nice,” he said.

“She’s amazing,” he had to stop himself from gushing about you because he hadn’t been able to before and he was pretty sure he could go on for hours.

Steve couldn’t help, but smile. “I’m glad to see you happy.” After all the shit Bucky had been through it was nice to see him adjusting. 

The two finally said their goodbyes and Bucky finally got to shut the door. He went back to finish what he’d started with you, needing to make sure you were wearing panties under that sweatshirt before coming out to greet his friends. He knew you could be a little tease and you needed to be put in your place.

Steve jogged to catch up to his three nosey teammates who were almost out of the entrance of the building. He really was happy for Bucky. He deserved to be happy.

When they’d made their way back home, Sam decided to review the footage on Redwing while in the kitchen. At first, it was just the general views of him walking down the street and then the subway. “Well, at least we know Bucky is boring.” 

Steve looked over his shoulder shrugging at the footage that was just Bucky walking to your place. “You should probably just delete it now.”

Sam fast-forwarded it as his friend got to your apartment, punching in the code to be let in. “I dunno, it’s kind of funny to see Bucky walking around like a normal person.”

“And, he never noticed Redwing??” Steve asked as Natasha came to peek with them.

“That’s kind of weird. I would think Bucky would be more aware of his surroundings,” she noted.

Sam shrugged. “Clearly no-” he stopped speaking as he saw what the camera had suddenly focused on.

“We should probably talk to him about that,” Natasha said, taking a bite out of her protein bar. “We should invite her here, though. It’d be nice to have another girl around. Me and Wanda get so bored listening to you guys sometimes.”

Sam’s mouth went into a straight-line while his eyes widened watching as you the women he’d only met for five minutes had gotten on her knees with Bucky’s metal hand grabbing you by the hair stuffing his cock down your throat. Your nose was pressed to his pelvis as he held you there before he started fucking your mouth. 

“What is it?” Steve asked, quickly noticing how silent Sam went. 

Natasha leaned over to take another look at Sam’s screen just as Bucky had pulled you off to toss you on the bed and smack your ass. “What the... Sam! Delete it!” She gasped seeing Bucky impale you with his cock from behind, smacking your ass again.

You were very clearly enjoying how rough he was being with you as you bounced back against him, arching your back so you could take it.

“I’m trying! It’s not letting me!”

“What is it?” Steve asked, now looking again himself, seeing you the women he’d just met being fucking railed by his best friend. Bucky was saying something that they couldn’t make out, but the way he’d stopped moving only for you to buck back against him, it must have been absolutely filthy. “What the hell!”

“I didn’t know!” 

“Make sure it gets deleted.” Steve sounded so exhausted. If they’d listened to him in the first place this wouldn’t have even happened. 

“I’m trying!” He repeated, pressing different buttons on the panel.

“It’s kind of hot actually,” Natasha surprised them with saying. “I wasn’t really expecting Bucky to be like this.”

“What were you expecting?” Sam asked stopping to look at Natasha with his face all scrunched up.

Neither of them had ever seen her blush, but there she was. Face almost as red as her hair. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about him since the Red Room.”

“Wait, what?” Both of them asked, but Natasha had already started to walk away from them as if she hadn’t even said anything. Or like she hadn’t just seen a video of Bucky fucking you raw. They didn’t see the glazed over look in her eyes as she let her imagination run wild.

“What’d you guys f-” Tony asked, right when Bucky had flipped you onto your back with his hands under your ass, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. “What... the fuck... actually... wow...”

“I know. I think I might ask Bucky if she has a sister or something.”

“All of you are monsters,” Steve said. Inside he was very intrigued, but he wasn’t about to say that outloud. “Make sure it gets deleted.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam said with a sighed.

“Captain Buzzkill.” Tony pouted.

[ginanosakka]

Mistakes Were Made

Masterlist

You’re Wrong | Next

“Ryu. .” You trailed off but you couldn’t find the words that would stop the tears pooling in his eyes.

He looked so hurt.

“Tell me, mom! Is Dynamight my dad?!” Ryu yelled, the tears finally spilling over as he pointed an accusing finger at you.

You looked at Katsuki who looked just as lost as distraught as you did, his attention never leaving Ryu despite him not even looking at him. You were baffled in this situation; how did you become the villain again? You spent six years bettering yourself and doing all you could do to be the best mom for Ryu, but all it took was Katsuki coming into the picture to flip the script back to the original plot: the plot where everyone was against you.

“Yes, he’s your dad. . but you don’t understand-“ Ryu cut you off.

“I don’t understand what?! That you were lying about my dad?! He’s right here and he does want to meet me!” He yelled, and as blindsided as you were by this situation you still were his mother and he was getting out of control. It could easily cause him to react with his quirk out of impulse knowing the temper he inherited, and you’d be damned if Ryu talked to you like Katsuki talks to everyone else.

“Ryu L/N,” you snapped in a harsh tone. “I can understand that you’re very upset right now, but I won’t accept you speaking like you've lost your mind and forgotten that I am your mother.”

When you finished speaking the room fell silent. Ryu’s head bowed but you could see the tears hit the kitchen floor. This was all what you were trying to avoid with Katsuki and Ryu, all this frustration and anger that you wanted to brush under the rug has blown up, and you were on the receiving end of the blast. Looking at Katsuki, he just seemed to be watching deep in thought now rather than lost while watching you parent, but there was a look in his eyes after you said his full name that could only be described as discontent.

You sighed and rubbed your temple, “I think we should-“

“I hate you.”

With your heart in pieces in your hands and tears heavy in your eyes, you stormed into your father’s office heaving from the squeezing in your lungs. Your disheveled appearance shocked him enough to stop the paperwork he was doing, something that was a near impossible task, but that meant so little to you now that you’d think you never yearned for his attention in the first place.

“Why did you do it?” You asked, not waiting a second to let him compose himself.

Your father’s brows furrowed, “do what, sweetheart?”

“You bought them all. Everyone. . They only talked to me because you bribed them, they used me because of you!” You raised your voice, stalking closer to his desk and staring dead into his eyes despite the tears that were blurring your vision.

“Y/N. . . it’s not what you think-“ you cut him off.

“I think you ruined my life, and for what?! Am I always going to be some incapable child to you?! You expect me..,” you paused as a sob bursted through your lungs. “You expect me to be like mom and stay in your shadow forever. . I’m not going to do it.”

The only sound in the room was your sobs while you wiped away your tears aggressively to see him stand with an unimpressed look on his face. He was always so gentle with you, treating you like a delicate dove he locked in a golden cage, but in moments it seems like the cage was broken up and you were set free to see everything hidden before. Everything your father kept hidden in plain sight from you through money and affection was now visible, and you were scared and wounded by what you were seeing.

“I can apologize for buying your friends and that boy you like so much, but it seems you’ve forgotten your place. As long as my money and sacrifice is what keeps you warm at night and gives you a future you’d never even be able to comprehend on your own, you’ll do what I say and I won’t hear another word about it.” Your father commanded, his voice booming in the room and causing you to tighten your hands into fists. “Now, how about you go ask your mother to take you shopping to feel better? I’ll find you some new friends-“

“I hate you!” You cried, his words finally pushing you over the edge.

You didn’t want new friends that were bought for you, the fake meteorites you had were already haunting you. Every moment spent with Mina was like some forced business interaction to her, but to you it was your happiness. The love you had for Katsuki was probably a chore for him like he was working some part time job, and now he finally quit and told the truth; the truth of how gullible and brainwashed you were. No one cared about you, you were a pawn even to your own parents, and the moment you decided you didn’t want to play anymore you’d likely be on your own and disowned.

‘I’ll never forgive you, father.’

“Y/N! Y/N!” You blinked back to reality where Katsuki had you by the shoulders shaking you as gently as he could with his naturally rough nature.

Katsuki jumped into the scene when those words fell from Ryu’s mouth, telling him how it wasn’t right and he should apologize as calmly as he could. It wasn’t like the little blonde boy needed a lecture from his twin by blood, he looked like he regretted it the moment he said it. Katsuki half expected you to attack the child like his mother did to him, her ruthless tactics still haunting his brain to this very day, but he could tell you were nothing like that. He hadn’t been around you long, but your world was so obviously centered around his son that it made his stomach turn when he thought about what he said about taking him away from you.

What he didn’t expect whatsoever was for you to completely space out in front of them, staring into the wall with such a pained expression he was worried you were somehow physically wounded by Ryu. The boy himself was in tears again while looking at you, wondering if he had hurt his mommy so bad that she couldn’t take it.

“Take him. Take Ryu with you to your home and take care of him for me. . okay?” You said blankly, even with the numbness that spread over your body you still cared about what happened to your son.

Bakugou nearly had a heart attack at your words, the panic of taking care of his child on his own when he just met them was nerve wracking, and he couldn’t comprehend what was going through your brain to trust him to do that. You looked so drained compared to mere minutes ago, and the hero in him was kicking into overdrive to save you from whatever the hell was going on inside your head.

“Don’t be stupid, dammit! I thought you were a good mother-“ Katsuki had never been silenced by a simple touch until your soft, warm hands grabbed onto his wrists that were still on your shoulders and looked him in the eyes showing how tired you were.

‘How is she doing this again?’ He thought angrily, the way his heart began to race the way it did when he was a teenager conflicting him once again.

“Please.” Was the only word that fell from your lips before you pried his arms off you and walked past him and Ryu out of the kitchen to your bedroom.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, unsure of where to go from here but knowing either way he’d be taking the kid he’d been waiting to see home with him. Ryu, no matter how upset he still was with you, was worried about that look on your face he’d never seen you make. The past and the present had finally met, and everything was becoming unclear and feelings were overwhelming. Luckily, if Katsuki learned anything from his mistakes in life; it was that there was always a way to make a better future.

Even if he didn’t know who you were anymore, or where that spoiled princess went, he was going to put everything he had into making this life work.

“Let’s get you home, kid.”

A/N: This took way too long for the length it is but the holidays have me working overtime. I hope you guys like it, and hopefully the next update will be a lengthy one by next week!

Also... THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS <3!!!!!!!!!!

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[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 33)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3826

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

When you told Spencer the next plan at lunch, he was neutral about it. He simply said,”Okay, guess we're going after work.” 

You frowned. It seemed the bliss you’d found shortly after you told Spencer you were a killer all those weeks ago had evaporated. Ever since he was with you killing, he’d been cold to you. So much for the plan working. 

But, you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Once this case was over, then you could work on your marriage. 

They let you out late, ordering everyone to get some rest, but you and Spencer high-tailed it to that remote cabin in the everglades. When you got there, you went inside to see if Jiminez was all bagged up and ready to go. 

However, when you arrived, Dexter was outside of the cabin panting, and inside, you heard someone shouting his name. 

Doakes. 

You ran up the porch and kneeled beside him. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, your hands going over him. He was wet, and when you got to his thigh, it was a warm wetness. You pulled your hand away, staring at the red liquid. 

“Uh, we need to talk,” he said, getting up to his feet with your help. He looked at you and spencer. “Long story short. Doakes found me. He saw me loading Jiminez. We fought. I knocked him out. Bullet went past my leg. He’s inside, just woke up.” 

Your eyes went wide. “You’ve got Doakes… held hostage?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer asked from behind you.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know. I panicked.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “Well, get inside so I can look at you. You’re bleeding.” 

Spencer opened the door for you two while Dexter leaned on you and stumbled in. 

“What the fuck?” Doakes said. “You’re in on it? The FBI is in on this?”

“Not the FBI, just us,” you clarified, helping Dexter inside. “Pants off,” you ordered. If the wound was that high up on his thigh, pulling his pant leg up wouldn’t be an option. 

He didn’t hesitate to get the pants off, but he had to go slow or he’d tear at the blood that had already clotted. Spencer watched on, uncomfortable with all of this. 

“I can’t fucking believe this. You brainwashed two feds to help you? How long have they known?” he asked. 

No one answered him. 

“Ah, I see how it’s gonna be. Is it deep? I hope it’s fuckin’ deep,” he said, staring at the wound once Dexter got it exposed. Spencer had gotten you peroxide, gauze, and wrapping, dropping it at the table beside Dexter. You quitely thanked him. 

Dexter responded with the explanation of how the wound wasn’t fatal at all. 

“Sorry, but I think I’m gonna live,” Dexter answered. 

“Am I?” Doakes asked. 

“That’s a good question,” he responded.

You glanced up at him with a mingling of disapproval and worry. Was he really considering killing Doakes. Just after you gave him the look, you poured the peroxide over his wound, making him hiss. A look of apology came across your face. 

“If you’re not gonna let me go, Morgan, then kill me now. Just get it over with.”

“I’d advise you not to tempt me just now,” he sounded out through ground teeth. You set to work on applying the gauze gently but firmly as Dexter continued to talk to Doakes. “Why couldn’t you just leave me to do my work in peace? Why’d you have to go and ruin everything?”

“You’re a killer. I catch killers.” 

“So do I. I caught you,” Dexter responded. 

“I’m not a killer.” 

You were still wrapping his leg as he laughed and said, “You are. That’s why you’ve always known what I am. That’s why you have more officer-related shootings than anybody else. Only I don’t fuck with you when you shoot somebody. Why couldn’t you pay me the same professional courtesy.” 

 “There’s nothing professional about what you do,” Doakes fired back. 

You taped up the wrapping and stood up, next to Spencer so that Dexter could get his pants back on.

“I kill when I have to, on the job,” Doakes said. 

Your eyes flashed to Spencer’s, he returned the look, both of you acknowledging how this conversation sounded. It sounded like one you and he had had over and over.

“Oh, so it’s okay to take a life as long as you get a paycheck for it?” Dexter spat, getting into his pants.

“The city pays me to keep the law.” 

“I’ve got news for you, Sergeant. My code requires a higher standard of proof than your city’s laws. At zero cost for the taxpayer? If you ask me, I’m a bargain.”

One look at Spencer’s face told you he was unsettled by Dexter’s arguments against Doakes’s.

“That’s enough bullshit, Morgan. Let’s get this over with. Either kill me or set me free.”

“I actually think you’d like it if I killed you, just to prove our point,” he responded as he laced up his boots. 

“Morgan, you’ve got to choose.” 

“No, I need to go home. I’ve got guards standing outside my door to protect me from you.” 

Dexter gestured with his chin for you three to leave as Doakes shouted after him. 

“What’s it gonna be, Morgan?!” he yelled. ‘What about you, Feds? You’re goddamn FBI agents for Christ's sake?!”

He continued to yell as the three of you exited, Dexter closing the door. 

“So, what are we going to do?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not sure.”

“He keeps saying kill him or set him free,” Spencer noted. “He’s kind of right, those are the two choices.”

“They might be, but we need to weigh our options,” you suggested. 

“Weigh our options? Are you insane? We have to let him go!” Spencer demanded. 

“And destroy everything we’ve worked on? No. We need to think.” 

“He’s an innocent man!” he cried out. 

“Okay, look, I’m tired as hell. I need to dump Jiminez and go home before my protective detail finds out I’m gone. You two talk it over, and we’ll talk in the morning.” 

Then you parted ways with him. 

Spencer could barely talk on the ride to the hotel. He muttered out a few things like he couldn’t believe this was happening, this was getting a bigger mess every day. 

The two of you got inside the hotel and you started again. 

“Spencer, we have to think about every angle. Maybe killing him and setting him free arent our only two options,” you suggested. 

“We can’t just take the life of an innocent man, Y/N!”

This was it. You’d had it. He said he understood. You thought you were past all this. Clearly, he wasn’t, and you intended to get to the bottom of it. 

“So it’s ok for you to kill people. But when I do it, suddenly it’s a problem. Is it because the deaths don’t benefit you directly? Or is there some other reason? Are you mad you didn’t think of it first?”

“What are you even talking about? I’ve only ever killed because I had to, it was in the line of duty.”

“Everything except prison, right? You know, when you tampered with those drugs, you  could’ve killed a lot more people, but that didn’t really stop you, did it? So long as you could exact revenge. It could’ve killed people who were innocent in that prison, just like you, and you didn’t give it a second thought. Let’s see about your other killings. Hankel? Hotchner and Morgan were just feet away when they heard that gun shot. Morgan had told me. You were seconds away from being saved, but you shot him instead. What about Dowd? You told hotch you were aiming for the leg. I’ve read the report, but you shot a man in the head. The leg and the head are far off from one another.” Your eyes narrowed in accusation and anger. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it. Don’t tell me it’s never crossed your mind before. Don’t you dare tell me you haven’t tried to figure out a way to do it. Because I know you have. You have since the day Gideon died. So how about you get off your self righteous high horse and let’s deal with this like adults. You don’t get to judge me. And you certainly don’t get to judge him. You’re hands aren’t exactly clean either. So spare me the lecture.”

“Lecture? All I have done since you told me what you’ve done is protect you. JJ would love nothing more than to see you put away and I’ve hidden every part of your… hobby from her, from everyone. I didn’t turn you in. I barely even considered it.  I’m just mad you made a stupid decision, and one that excluded me. You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of doing it or going to do it. You just found some random blood analyst in Miami and partnered up with him. You think you felt betrayed by JJ, how do you think I felt when the biggest secret you’ve ever had, arguably the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done, you didn’t even consult me.”

“How could I? Do you honestly think you would’ve let me do this if I came to you? I knew you’d just shut me down. Because unless it benefits you in some way to kill, you think everyone is wrong. For you, they have to have been caught by the BAU, guilty in some way in the court system. Maybe that’s because it helps cover your tracks when you kill them. I’m sorry, Spence, but I’m not wired that way. I am sorry that I went behind your back to do this, and that it made you worry about my loyalty to you, but can you look me in the eye and tell me that if I came to you and said that Dexter had trained me to become a serial killer that you’d just nod and say, ‘Sure, go for it, honey’? No. You’d make me see the first available psychologist and it would be over before it started.”

“Well maybe it should’ve been! Then you wouldn’t be a killer and we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Be in this mess? Do you have any idea how many lives Dexter has saved, that I’ve saved by doing this? Not to mention you going to prison. Those weren’t easy times, Spencer!”

“Is that what all this is? Payback for being framed? I couldn’t help that, Y/N! I was helping my mom!”

“I know that. I’m not saying any of it was your fault, per se. You were just doing what you thought was right, right? That’s all I was trying to do.”

“Don’t compare illegal drugs for my mom to you turning into an unsub.”

“Oh, so now I’m an unsub?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. When you first found out about me, you said you’d never see me that way. And now you’re calling me that. So which is it?”

“It’s neither! You’re my fucking wife. You’re my wife and you went to a random guy, ignoring me, your husband. You did this when our marriage was on the rocks, Y/N, what was i supposed to think? You were spending more time with him, ignoring me. I thought I was losing you to him. Every time I turn around, you’re defending him. Imagine if the shoe were on the other foot. How would you feel if I turned up and said some random woman was teaching me how to be a serial killer? Would you be so accepting of her? Would you feel like you could trust me again?”

In a quiet voice, you said, “The shoe has been on the other foot, Spence. You killed those people in prison, and I didn’t bat an eye. You slammed a pregnant Cat Adams against a wall and I didn’t bat an eye. I’ve only ever displayed mistrust in you when you kept something from me. If you couldn’t even tell me about JJ, how was I supposed to tell you about Dexter?” 

“Because I’m your husband. That’s how it works. He’s not. It makes so much sense why you were so threatened by JJ,” he started and you narrowed your gaze at him.

“Don’t even try to say I was projecting,” you fired back angrily. 

“That’s precisely what you were doing. You felt guilty about what you were doing down here in Miami and keeping it from me.” 

“You’re right! That’s the only fucking part I feel bad about is lying to you. The rest of it I would do it all again.”

“You want to know why I hate Dexter? This is why, right here. You’re cold. You never used to be this way. He’s turned you into this heartless, careless person.”

You shook your head as if it were absurd. “Spencer, you and I both know that’s not true. He didn’t make me do anything. I sought him out. Just because I’m killing people the BAU didn’t catch, doesn’t mean they aren’t guilty. You might get the luxury of shooting on the job and everyone praising you a hero, but it doesn't work like that for Dexter and me.”

“But it should!” he shouted, raising his voice. “Look what he’s doing, Y/N! He’s got an innocent man in a dead man’s cabin. What has he become? You’re always saying he’s not a monster, but he’s considering killing an innocent man.”

“No one said he was going to kill anyone. You just always assume the worst about him.” 

“Yes, and you always seem to compare me to him.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” he shot back evenly. “You keep saying we’re the same person. One of us just gets paid to kill.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“So? You don’t see the absolute lunacy of that accusation? I’m an FBI agent, Y/N. I’m paid, we are paid to keep the public safe from huge threats--”

“Just because Dexter doesn’t get paid doesn’t mean he isn’t doing the same thing we are.”

He shook his head. “We’re going in circles. I can’t believe you don’t see this! I can’t believe how you can’t decipher between an unsub and an FBI agent!” 

“I can! Dexter isn’t some random unsub! You keep fucking missing that!”

“His victimology doesn’t make him a good guy, Y/N! I can understand why you did what you did. It's the same reason I killed those guys in prison. You were fed up with the criminals and the justice system. I can get that. But Dexter is just doing it, just to do it. He gets off on it. And you keep comparing me to him and it’s pissing me off.”

“Can you honestly not see how it’s the same? The men you killed wasn’t in self defense. It was methodical, you planned it out, you did it so they didn't hurt any more inmates like your friend. But you could’ve killed any number of other people. You’ve shot unsubs when you didn’t need to. I’m not saying you’re exactly like Dexter, I’m saying that all three of us have these dark tendencies and we want to take them out on people we believe deserve it - mainly, criminals and unsubs.”

“Yeah, but instead of staying on the side of the law, you teamed up with an unsub.” 

“Slapping a label on him doesn’t change the fact that not that deep inside, all 3 of us have dark desires that we’ve fulfilled. You didn’t have to kill those guys in prison. You didn’t have to kill Hankel. That’s just some examples of times that you were compelled to kill intrinsically. So if you want to sit here and act like I’m completely insane for wanting to weigh our options with Doakes, then be my guest. But have you ever wondered why you and I are the best at catching serial killers on our team? Why I was able to track Dexter within a matter of weeks? It’s a lot more than getting inside the head of the killer. It’s having the mind of one. Now, do you ever wonder why out of everyone, Doakes picked up on the fact that Dexter is a killer? Funny coincidence or does Dexter just emit a radar to other killers?” 

Spencer shook his head, his eyes steeling on you. 

“I just wish you would see that you aren’t so different from Dexter and me and stop blaming him for everything.” You shook your head before sighing. “I guess none of that matters though. I can’t force you to see things my way. We just need to discuss what to do with Doakes. Since you’re adamant on not listening to me, we’ll just have to discuss it with Dexter, whether you like it or not. It needs to be a democratic decision, not one made between two people arguing about the same shit we always have.” 

He looked at you with an indiscernibility before you shook your head. 

Tears welled in your eyes. “Look, every day, I live with this terror that you’re going to see more unsub every day and less of your wife. Then one day, you’ll look over and only see a killer. That’s when you’ll divorce me and turn me in. I have no proof that you won’t leave me. I know you’ve stayed by my side. I know you’ve watched me do tons of illegal things, but I have nothing that tells me you won’t just leave. So please, tell me, what is it that makes you hate Dexter so much? Because if you hate him, then more than likely you hate me too. So i just need to know, if there is a difference, what is it? Because one minute you say you’re fine with me, the next you aren't. So what is it?”

He shook his head, his own tears forming. “Well I’m not fine with it, Y/N! You have this bond with him that you and I will never have. I watched you get so close to another man, and I felt like that was something I couldn’t touch. I was jealous of the time you spent with him, how you moved around him, how you followed his every instruction. You didn’t disobey him. You keep saying that you couldn’t have come to me because I would’ve made you see a therapist but…” He bit his lip. “If I’m being honest, you’re right. I have thought about doing what you did. If you’d come to me, I probably would’ve found a way to do what Dexter’s doing now. It could’ve been you and I, learning together. You’re right I have killed when I didn’t need to, without much of a second thought. And if becoming a vigilante is what you wanted to do… I would’ve supported that. But instead, you snuck around with a random unsub in Miami, that could’ve killed you.”

“But he didn’t. He’s not like most.” 

“I know, and in a way, I’m glad you picked him. He’s a safe, logical bet. But in another way, I can’t stand that you picked him over me. That’s why I hate him. I’m jealous of the bond you two share, a bond that could’ve been ours.” 

You let out a gasp. “That’s why you hate him? You feel threatened by him?” 

“Well, why shouldn’t I?” he asked as if it were obvious. “You two have done intimate things that we’ve never done. He’s just as smart as I am. I drove you away with all that BS about JJ… How can I expect you to stick around?” 

“Because I love you. Yes, Dexter and I are close, but that doesn't mean anything. I’m close to Garcia. You’re close to JJ. Clearly, as you’ve stated, closeness doesn’t mean anything.”

He shook his head as he looked down. “I just always think you’ll choose him over me. When it was just us, back home, there was no threat of that. But then we came down here and I watched the way you moved around him, laughed around him… You’re so open with him.”

“Because he accepts me for everything I am.”

“I do too,” he argued lightly. 

“We’ve done nothing but fight about my killing since you found out. You’ve said you understand and then the next second you’re asking ‘how could you do this’? It’s not like that with Dexter. We can be that open and carefree because we completely trust each other. He knows I won’t turn him in, I know he won’t turn me in. I've seen his darkness in full action, he’s seen mine. But that’s it. He doesn’t know me intimately in the ways you do. He doesn’t know all my highs, or all my lows. He doesn’t know all my desires. He doesn’t know that I secretly enjoy the Star Wars Prequels…” 

Spencer’s mouth turned up in a half smile. 

“My point is, just because he knows me on a different level, or knows different parts of me, doesn’t mean I want him.” 

“But the way you care for him. I’ve seen you nurse him, dote on him.” 

“Because I care for him, deeply. He’s the greatest best friend I’ve ever had besides you.” 

“So you don’t love him?”

“Not in any romantic sense of the word, no.” 

He let out a sigh. “I’m glad. I’m sorry. I’ve made this a lot harder on you than it had to be. It was… I was dealing with my own internal issues, and I’m sorry we didn’t just talk about it.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “I know it’s hard to admit insecurities. But now that you know what the issue is, and that there’s nothing between Dexter and me, do you think you can cut him some slack? Or me?” 

He nodded, the tears flowing freely now. “Mhm.” 

“Good. So now, what are we going to do about Doakes? Keep in mind he doesn’t have the cleanest record, and if we let him go, it’s us three against him. But, he also isn’t a killer, at least not completely up to Dexter’s code so I’m not sure we could kill him.”

“I… I have no idea. This is your life and Dexter’s life on the line. I’m going to support any decision you two make about this.” 

After a moment, you nodded and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you so much for standing by my side on this.”

“I only wish I could’ve shown you that I was all this time. I let my jealousy guide me, instead of my love.”

“All that matters is that we’re on the same page now,” you assured.

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

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[schrijverr]

Reacting to Destiel Pictures

Continuing like normal after everything that had happened. Dean has invited his husband, Cas, again to make a video in which take some time to react to picture of themselves throughout the years

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if you want me to tag something for you, cause I’ll do so happily without question!

~~~~ ~~~~~~

“I look like a rat, Dean.” Castiel deadpanned.

“No, you were the cutest ever!” Dean replied.

Cas pouted: “You only say that, because you love me.”

Dean gave him a quick peck and said: “That doesn’t make it less true, angel.”

Then the intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

Hi, Hunters! Welcome back.” Dean smiled, “Today I am with my husband, Castiel, and we’re reacting to old pictures of us.”

“Hello, everyone.” Cas greeted everyone.

“Disclaimer.” Dean said, “For anyone confused about the last time we had Cas on the channel. He did not murder me or brainwash me.”

Castiel nodded, but he did stare into the camera for a moment and Dean had used the moment to edit in a light blue glowing gleam in them. Just because he could and it was fun, he liked feeding the fire.

“Are you ready?” Dean asked, moving on. Cas nodded, then Dean turned to the audience and explained: “We have a laptop here where we are watching the photos, but I will display them on the screen here. Sam picked these images, so we both have no idea what is coming.”

The first image came up, it was from their first year at college. Castiel was sitting behind a desk, thick book in front of him. He had a small familiar frown on his face as he tried to concentrate on the text. Next to him was Dean, he also had a book in front of him, but he was looking into the camera and sticking out his tongue.

Both smiled at the image and Dean lovingly said: “Ahw, you were always a little nerd, weren’t ya.”

Cas rolled his eyes with a fond smile and said: “If I remember correctly, you did quite good in school as well.”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed the back of his head with a blush and shrugged, “what a stable home life can do for you, you know.”

He clicked through to the next picture. This one was a bit older still at college, but they hadn’t confessed yet, despite both being in love. Dean commented that and noted: “How did we not see how smitten we were?”

Cas laughed: “I don’t know.”

In the picture they were both standing in front of a monument of some sort. Dean had slung his arm over Castiels shoulder and had pulled him close. They weren’t even looking into the camera, lost in each others eyes.

Dean told the camera: “This was after our second year at college. We took a trip with Sammy for the summer. He took this pic of us.”

“That was nice, we went to the beach. You taught me how to swim remember.” Cas said.

Dean smiled at the memory. “Yeah,” he said, “you were very cute. I think I used a picture of that in my fake documentary of you. The ones with the bee sunglasses?”

“Oh, yeah I remember that one.” Castiel laughed.

They went on to the next picture. This was from their graduation, they were both wearing the stupid robes. Cas was hugging Dean from behind, resting his head on Deans shoulder as he looked into the camera with a smile. Dean held the arm that was slung across his chest with two hands and also grinned in the camera.

Cas said: “We had been together for three weeks in this picture.”

“Ahw, look at that baby face.” Dean said, “So young and besotted.”

“You still are.” Cas ribbed him.

Dean just melted and agreed: “Yeah, I am.”

He gave Cas a quick kiss, before moving on to the next picture. That one was of their one year anniversary. They’d climbed a mountain together and asked a stranger on top of it to take a picture of them. Cas was on Deans back, his head resting on Deans head. Both were sweating, but they had smiles that took over their entire faces.

“This was our one year.” Dean explained, “We climbed a mountain. I was so tired when we reached the top.”

Cas nodded: “It’s a miracle we stayed up long enough for the picture.”

“Yeah.” Dean laughed, “I had to sit for like an hour, before we could head back down.”

He clicked to the following photo. It was a selfie he had taken to sent to Sam to explain why he couldn’t come to diner that night. He had completely forgotten about it, but it seemed Sam still had it. Dean smiled apologetically in the picture, while an obviously sick Cas was in the background.

Castiel immediately deadpanned: “I look like a rat, Dean.”

“No, you were the cutest ever!” Dean replied.

Cas pouted: “You only say that, because you love me.

Dean gave him a quick peck and said: “That doesn’t make it less true, angel. You are the cutest ever. I remember you wanted to cuddle the entire time, it was so sweet.”

Cas looked guilty and said: “I remember, you got sick the week after.”

Dean ruffled his hair and reassured him by saying: “And you cared for me, very sweetly. You even asked Ellen to make that soup I like.”

They moved on to the next one. It was one of Dean sleeping in the backseat of the Impala, over him lay a familiar trench coat. Dean asked: “Where does this photo come from?”

“I took it, when we were making that road trip.” Castiel answered, “I sent it to Sam, since he had asked how the trip was going. I believe I captured it ‘Going to wake up the angry bear’”

Dean pouted: “I’m not that grumpy in mornings.”

Cas smiled, but didn’t say anything. Dean looked offended, but his reaction was cut out.

The next picture was the same one they had framed above their bed. It was taken at their wedding. Dean was holding Cas in a bridal-carry, both grinning like idiots.

Both couldn’t help the same stupid grin that took over their faces. Dean said: “This was the best day of my life, I think. Never regretted it, angel.”

Cas smiled at him, eyes filled with love and he quickly embraced Dean as he said: “Me neither. My Dean.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just looking at the picture. Then Dean softly said: “I’m so glad I found you, Cas. I can’t imagine my life without you… or Claire for that matter.”

The last part had been edited out, along with the deep and teary kiss the two shared after it.

When it cut the new picture was shown on screen. Cas was standing at the door, coat already on, bag in hand. He was about to leave, but his tie had been crooked, so Dean was fixing it for him. They both had a fond look in their eyes as they smiled softly. Claire had taken that picture a week ago and sent it to Sam, saying ‘Papa and Pops are being gross again’

Dean smiled and wondered out loud: “When did we get so domestic.”

“Probably around the time we bought a house together and fell into a routine.” Cas said, before realizing it was rhetorical, so he added: “I think it suits us.”

Dean thought about his tumultuous youth and nodded and agreed: “Yeah it does.”

Castiel looked at the picture again, then reached for the laptop. Dean asked: “What are you doing, sunshine?”

“I’m sending this to myself, so I can make it my background.” Castiel answered.

Then it cut to the endcard. Dean said: “That was it for today, hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Castiel said.

Dean smiled at him then turned back to the viewers: “Cas here enjoyed it, so leave a like for Cas. If you don’t want to miss out, subscribe and ring that bell. If you wanna watch more amazing Cas content you can click here and you can click here for just me. Which is also fun and just as handsome, but maybe not what you want.”

“Assbutt.” Cas said with an eyeroll.

“Still not a real swearword, darling.” Dean told him, turning back to the audience he said: “Bye Hunters, see you on the road.”

Then the video ended

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

I cried at the wedding photo so

cute, my gay heart can’t take it

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

Dudes, what’s up with the eye

glowy thing at 00:50 scary

angel Cas is back. I’m scared

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

I didn’t know I needed Dean

asleep on the backseat under

Castiels coat until now, but

damn did I need it

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

GUYS?? IS NO ONE

WONDERING WHO TOOK THAT LAST PICTURE? LIKE WHO WAS THERE???

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

The fact that Dean got sick

because he couldn’t refuse hugs

from his husband is the best

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

Alternate title: husbands being

soft and reminiscing

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

Wtf? Assbutt? Who came up

with that shit? Fucking whack

bro

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

Ahw they are so disgustingly

sweet

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

Do you think Cass knows bear

also has a different meaning with

the gays? Is he innocent? Should

we tell him??

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

Dean and Cas: tell us they went

on a road trip

Fanfic writers: WRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN

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

They look so in love!!!

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

[whimperwoods]

29-Day Whump Challenge - Day 16

Day 16: Filmed Whump || Sleep Deprivation

Local Anemic Bitch writes about exhaustion, news at 11. Prompts are by @yuckwhump and found here.

This one’s a continuation of my starvation post from day 9, but set both before and after it. (That’s right, more flashbacks. This one’s less violent and more narrative!)

tw: starvation, tw: slavery, tw: trafficking, tw: conditioning, tw: neglect, tw: electrocution, tw: torture, tw: brainwashing (attempted), tw: people as pets (werewolves as pets but like... werewolves are people), tw: collars

*****

Drew sat in his new owner’s lap in just his underwear, freezing cold and leaning into the man for warmth, his master’s arms tight and warm around him.

He could breathe easier, now that he’d had a little water, small sips when his master said he could have some, before it was taken away again because the man didn’t want him being sick.

Before she’d handed the water over, the woman who worked here had wrenched Drew’s chin away from his master’s side, forcing him to look her in the eye. Her eyes had been cold, and she’d told him that if he bit his new master, he’d be going right back into the cell before the paperwork could go through.

He’d shivered, the trembling in his whole body intensifying in a freezing cold flood, but he’d forced himself to nod, even as the motion made his head spin.

It was strange, thinking of this man as his master, after he’d fought so hard against the whole idea. He remembered more now. He remembered talking back, saying he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t a pet, would never let himself become one.

His whole body hurt, and his stomach felt like it was going to churn itself apart trying to get the water in it out to the rest of his limbs. He was too weak to sit on his own, too weak to hold his head up, much too weak to stand, and everything in his world was the slight, slight chance that the man holding him might be better than this place, and he hadn’t understood, before, but now he did. Now he did.

“Very good,” the woman said, “There’s the first set of paperwork done. He’s yours. We’ll still need to finish the other set, liability and such, but we’ll go ahead and get him settled with his complimentary collar and all that, since you’ve already got him here.”

Drew leaned away from the woman, pressing farther into his master’s side, but she didn’t react, and his master didn’t stop her when she pried his head away from its place beneath his master’s chin and wrapped a cold, metal collar around his neck.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was, when he recognized the smaller plates of a different metal settling against his throat.

“No,” he begged, “No, please. Please.” His voice was hoarse and broken, his throat barely wet enough to make a sound, and his master’s arms tightened around him, making him bite his tongue and whine instead.

“What is it? I don’t think I’ve seen one like this.”

“It will administer a mild electric shock. For control. Of course, our hope here is always that you won’t need such a thing, and our premium pets behave themselves with only a cloth collar, or even with none at all. This one - well, it’s better safe than sorry.”

His master’s arm left his side, reaching toward the woman.

“Here’s your remote control,” she said, “You can test it out if you like.”

Another jolt of fear went through Drew and he closed his fingers as best he could in the front of his master’s shirt. “Please,” he gasped, “Please.”

His master ran the other hand all the way up and down his back, stroking along his spine. “That’s alright. I trust you. And anyway, I can already tell he’s gonna be a good boy. Aren’t you, fella?”

“Yes sir!” Drew panted. “Yes sir, please sir, please.”

“See? If it doesn’t work when I want it, I’ll just come back.”

Drew shivered again, a sob working its way audibly out of his throat and surprising even him. His master held him closer, the side of the remote pressing into his ribs as his master brought that arm up around his body again, and a second sob burst out of him, louder than the first.

“Please sir,” he begged between wracking sobs, “Please.”

“Take it off,” his master said, “I can just get a taser instead.”

Drew retched, vomiting water against his master’s collarbone, but he was actually relieved by the thought of the taser, and the wrongness of that, the wrongness of the feeling he could make sense of but couldn’t stop, turned his empty, weakened stomach inside out.

*****

Drew’s eyes fluttered shut in the chair, and after a few seconds, a jolt of electricity shot through him, the plates of the shock collar burning against his neck as every muscle in his body tensed, wrenching at his bones as the pain rolled jaggedly through him, before stopping again just in time to let him scream.

“I told you not to fall asleep during your lesson,” the trainer said, taking out a remote from his pocket and pressing a button on it, sending a shorter, sharper jolt through him that almost stopped the breath he was still trying to catch.

Drew moaned, keeping his head up to prevent another shock.

The rubber cuffs around his wrists, binding him to the wooden table, wouldn’t let him reach up and wipe away the drool that always seemed to accompany the shocks, so he twisted his shoulder as far as he could to wipe the spit off on it.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here, but he did know, as the audio in his ears started up again, whispering insidious lies, that he couldn’t give them what they wanted. He couldn’t.

The longer the ‘lesson’ went on, the harder it was to stay awake and the more he found himself on the receiving end of the double shocks, the automatic ones from the collar responding to the change in his breathing and heart rate, and the trainer’s shocks growing gradually longer as he followed the automatic shocks up with manual ones.

He’d thought at the start that this seemed like a milder ‘lesson’ than usual, but now it had been hours and hours of the same words pouring through his brain, the same shocks burning through him each time he was asked who he was and he said his name again. Now, he had drool dripping down his face he couldn’t even hope to wipe away, and as he waited for the audio to finish and the trainer to ask him questions again, he wondered if defying them again would actually kill him.

Finally, there was silence, and the trainer came over to the table and wrenched his head up to look into his eyes. “Who are you?”

“A-andrew. Andrew Michael Green.”

The man slapped him hard across the face, and he almost cried with relief because it wasn’t another shock. “Wrong. What are you?”

“I’m a person.”

Another slap, a backhand hard enough to drive his head sideways with it. “You’re a filthy werewolf. Where do you belong?”

Drew gritted his teeth, working up the guts to answer only when the trainer picked up his remote control. “I belong at home, you bastard!”

He wasn’t surprised by the shock, but it still made him feel like the life was being torn away from him, shredded from the inside out. The current went on and on, longer than it ever had before, until he started wondering if his muscles were actually going to tear with the force of the tension on them.

When it stopped, he’d barely managed to gasp in a new breath before the trainer backhanded him again, snapping his head to the side. “We’ll try again tomorrow. The lesson isn’t over until you learn it.”

He’d been dragged away by his arms, too weak from the shocks to stand, but he’d been relieved to get away from the remote control. He’d been a fool.

*****

The woman lifted Drew out of his master’s lap and dropped him callously onto the floor, and Drew felt his side bruise and his bones strain under the force of the landing. She fussed over his master, dabbing at the mess on his chest, and making excuses and offers, one right after the other.

His master waved her off, got up, and knelt over him. He leaned down, whispering right into Drew’s ear. “I’m sorry.” Then he hit Drew in the back of the head, slapping him hard enough to force his head forward, his chin moving toward his chest and his cheek sliding across a little bit of grit on the tile floor.

Drew whimpered.

His master straightened up. “See? He’s not so tough. Take that thing off. I’ll look for a better one over here, yeah? Something more me. Not so utilitarian.”

The woman’s hands weren’t gentle as she removed the shock collar, but Drew sobbed with relief anyway, turning his face into the floor so his master wouldn’t have to look at him, and he wouldn’t have to look at any of this.

*****

Alone in his cell, Drew laid down on his thin mattress and closed his eyes.

The moment he fell asleep, another jolt of electricity ran through him, waking him. It was brief, automated, and weaker now that the trainer wasn’t standing over him turning the power up. He grunted in pain, sitting up.

Fuck.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was, what it meant.

It was still hard to wrap his brain around. They weren’t going to let him sleep. They were going to keep him here, awake, and then drag him back in there, awake, to do it all again, and they were going to do it until he gave in or died, and he was going to be shocked all night, the whole time, and that was - he closed his eyes, sighing. That was something he couldn’t just think his way out of.

There was no convincing himself that they’d get bored with hitting him, bored with the shocks, bored with the insults and the mantras and the whole damned system.

This was a computer, and it didn’t get bored and it didn’t care and he didn’t know how to get the collar off.

By the time the guard made his midnight round, Drew was pinching himself to stay awake, his body warn out from a day of electricity coursing through him, his muscles aching and his nerves frayed.

By the 3 am rounds, he knew he’d tell them anything they wanted to hear, tomorrow. He’d been shocked twice more, in spite of his best efforts, and without sleep, all his other aches and pains were getting worse, instead of better.

Breakfast time came and went, and no one came to his cell to get him. The people in the neighboring cells were lead away, and he was still here, exhausted and waiting.

He fell asleep three times before lunch. 5 before dinner. 6 before lights out. He hummed every song he could think of, pinched his arms in a thousand little places, stood up and wobbled to and fro in his cell, and he still kept falling asleep.

No one came, and he sat back down on the bed as the room went dark with a loud, sudden clunk.

36 hours. It had definitely been at least 36 hours.

Everything hurt. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his head felt too light, reeling as his body tried to fall asleep and he had to force his own head up. His eyes leaked tears, even as he knew, deep inside himself, that he wasn’t crying. They flowed silently, painlessly, unchecked, pooling against the puffy skin under his eyes before they dripped away. They stuck in his eyelashes when he blinked, glinting in the faint bio-luminescence of the woman in the cell across the way.

By midnight, he was falling asleep with his eyes open, only aware of it when another jolt tore through him. He sobbed quietly in the dark, but all of the prisoners slept heavily, their bodies trying desperately to repair themselves in the night, and he was alone.

The guard walked past. He didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know how long he’d been awake. He didn’t know how to do the math anymore.

He had thought his body hurt before. Now, every blink felt like it might tear the surface off his eyes, and the pain of the shocks sat over a bone-deep, soul-deep ache that he knew wouldn’t heal, that he knew would just grow and grow and grow until it swallowed him alive, unless he was allowed to sleep.

He kept his eyes open. He was shocked. He was shocked. He was shocked. He tried to cry, but he had no tears left, and no energy left for sound.

The lights came on. 48 hours.

No one came.

He was shocked. Shocked. Shocked. His head reeled, lolled, shot back up, and he knew he was going to die like this.

The others got breakfast. The guards passed his cell like he wasn’t here, and he didn’t have the strength or the voice left to call out to them. He kept seeing faint echoes of the guards when they weren’t there, drifting in front of his eyes with no accompanying sounds of footsteps and vanishing into nothing when he blinked and forced his eyes farther open.

Something was coming. Something. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think. He tried to pinch his arm, but his fingers didn’t line up right and slid past each other, leaving just an ineffectual scratch.

He kept his eyes open, but even the light did nothing to keep him alert. He was shocked. He was shocked.

His trainer came with lunch, with the remote, and increased the power on the collar before he slid the food through the bottom of the bars. Kyle stared, his eyes dry and blank, and knew staying alive was all that was left to him. He had to stay alive. His body screamed for sleep, the only thing that might keep it whole in the face of the shocks, and he knew he was going to answer the man’s questions the way he wanted them, this time.

*****

Drew’s master picked him up again, scooping him into his arms like he was nothing, like he weighed nothing, and he went willingly, leaning back up against the damp cloth of his master’s shirt and hoping the man could tell he was being compliant.

The man wrapped a strip of something bright green around his neck, a stiff canvas collar that he secured almost loosely, and Drew fought back more tears.

“Thank you, master,” he whispered, “Thank you.”

He had nothing left. Nothing. No flesh, no hope, hardly even a name. But even in the cell where he’d starved in his chains, he’d been able to sleep, to put himself back together in increasingly small increments, to knit together the frazzled nerves even as the rest of his body tried to shut down.

“I’ll be good,” he whispered.

His master ran a hand up and down his back again. “I know. I know.”

The woman gave his master more paperwork, and the man started filling it out.

Drew closed his eyes, tucking his head back under his master’s chin, curling into his side, and trying to be small and out of the way. Maybe, maybe he could still keep that. The sleep. The only thing left to him to make any part of him whole.

Between the forms, his master rocked just slightly back and forth, just enough that Drew could feel it, pressed against him. It was soothing. Reassuring.

Drew breathed. His master rocked, barely perceptibly. He calmed down. His eyes grew heavy. His master didn’t wake him, and the canvas collar sat, inert, against his skin.

By the time his master signed the last page, shook the woman’s hand, and stood up with Drew still cradled against his chest, Drew was almost asleep, and almost convinced that wherever he was going, he might be allowed to heal.

[a-marlene-s]

La Red: Part 12

If anyone is interested or want to support my writing feel to drop by.  https://ko-fi.com/a_marlene_s 

This is a bit of a flashback, enjoy

Nino what he is planning on doing could either make or break his relationship with Alya forever. He knew that if he cannot convince his girlfriend that Lila is bad news, it is the end of their relationship. Of course, the teen had tried to warn his girlfriend time and time again, but no matter how much he tried, Alya would wave him off.

There was so much more than that too. Nino knew with Alya’s method of gathering information for the Ladyblog could be seen as unethical, more so with showing videos of very private moments of the heroes. Things that should have been discussed beforehand before they were published. Did he warn her? Yes, yes he did. Did Alya listen? No. No, she did not listen.

Did Nino warn Alya about the Lila video’s? Against his better judgment, he did not try hard enough to talk her into talking to Ladybug herself about the information. During that time, there was little voice in the back of his head that told him he needed to double check Lila’s words. The voice telling him that what Alya is doing is going to get her in trouble in the long run… but Alya had a way to convince him otherwise.

This would become a cycle between them, with Nino trying to convince Alya that she needed to check her work and her convincing him that her information is legitimate. There was nothing wrong with her work and he’s overthinking everything. Everything Lila is saying is the truth.

Everything Lila is saying is the truth. Emphasize on period.

Ever since Lila came into the picture, she became Alya’s whole world and in turn, his as well. Whatever to keep his girlfriend happy and that only resulted with so much stress add to their relationship.

Lila this-

Lila that-

Lila said this-

Lila told me-

Lila…

Lila.

LILA!

Alya’s ever need to clung onto every word that slips out of Lila’s mouth has caused friction between the couple. Nino was pulled into every conversation, forced to take on opinions that were not of his own. It got to the point where he suspects Lila has been talking crap behind his back to Alya whenever he did anything that displeased the liar.

Nino wanted to ignore it. He really did. More so with how Adrien took everything in with stride with that megawatt smile of his, but that should have been the first red flag. Adrien only smiles like that when he has something to hide, it’s too rehearsed for his own good.

The metaphorical cheery to this cake? Marinette.

Nino should have trusted her word against Lila, but did not. He could still remember how Alya would tighten her hold him whenever he wanted to say anything and he kept quiet. Not this time.

After a long day of reevaluating everything that has been happening since Lila came to their school, it has been increasingly evident that she has targeted Marinette for one reason or another. After talking to Ladybug… it’s clear that Nino should have listened to that little voice in his head. 

Nino hopes that after this, he could still be considered Marinette’s friend. A title he shouldn’t have taken for granted.

-.-

“Lila told me that Ladybug-”

“Alya…”

“Then she told me that-”

“Alya.”

“Marinette shouldn’t be such a bi-”

“ALYA!”

“What? I’m just giving you a recap on what I’ve been talking to Lila before you got here?” Alya questioned Nino, giving him a skeptical look as she leads him through her home. Her expression changed when she realized that Nino did not move beyond entryway of her home. “Nino?”

“Are you parents’ home? Your sisters?” Nino asked, taking a look around the apartment.

“My parents are out on a date and Nora took the twins out.” Alya asked, becoming annoyed. “Come on, let’s go to my room and I’ll tell you what happened.”

“I rather talk here.” Nino said, not budging from his spot. He stared at Alya, seeing that her eyes were still red from her crying earlier but he has to push that away from his mind. “I talked to Ladybug and what she said has me thinking over a lot that has been happening to us, Marinette and Lila.”

Alya’s expression shifted into fury at the mention of Marinette. “I thought you went to talk to Ladybug and not her.”

“I did speak with Ladybug and what she said is very telling.” Nino said, his gaze hardened when he saw Alya walked down the stairs to walk up to him. More so when Alya started to talk about how he’s now taking Marinette’s side, same as Ladybug. “Are you accusing Ladybug is being manipulated by Marinette?”

“What else? Lila told me that Ladybug has been talking to Marinette a lot and she suspects she’s manipulating her.” Alya stated, with the upmost certainty. “The bitch has been brainwashing Ladybug against Lila!”

“Is that it? You’re going to take Lila’s words for granted?” Nino accused. “That’s all you have been saying and doing since Lila came into the picture. Lila this- Lila that- Lila said this- Lila told you- LILA! The main reason we never have time to ourselves is because of her. The reason Marinette has started to avoid everyone is because of her. You what’s the most fuck up thing about this, you’re so hung up on Lila’s words that you refuse to see what exactly is going on around you.”

“Don’t talk like that about Lila! She’s my friend, just as much as she is yours.” Alya defended, her eyes now show a fury. “Lila has been helping me with the Ladyblog and so much more! More so than anyone else by the looks of it.”

Nino’s features turn stony at Alya’s words. “Did you ever bother to ask Ladybug herself if she’s friends with Lila?”

At that, Alya rolled her eyes. “Lila to-”

“Did you ever ask Ladybug herself if she’s friends with her?”

“No, but-”

Nino slowly raised his hands into the hair and placed them on his head, gripping his hat in an attempt to hold back his dismay. He did not bother to hear Alya’s excuse. He’s heard it time and after time again. “That means you did not verify your sources. You didn’t verify with Ladybug herself on what Lila is saying about her.”

“Please, Lila told me that Ladybug will deny know her for her own protection. What you’re just saying is that you got from Marinette!” Alya accused.

“For the last time, I did not talk to her, I talked to Ladybug herself!”

“Marinette is just manipulating Ladybug and now she’s trying to manipulate you too!”

“A decent report always verifies her sources. You never once bother to ask her if Lila’s words are true.”

Slap-

Nino blinked a couple of times, he slowly looked over at Alya’s raised hand and the look of shock that spread across her face. He slowly lowered his hand to his now throbbing cheek. One thing rang through his mind, there was no way their relationship could be salvaged at this point. “Marinette nearly got akumatized because of Lila… three times. All you could care about is your blog. Lila has been tormenting your supposed best friend and all you want to do is demean her by saying she’s jealous and manipulating everyone?”

Shock gone replaced back with her fury. “Maybe if she jus-”

“I’m warning you Alya, Lila’s words will be your fall and at some point and like a house of cards, you will be dragged down by them if you don’t open your eyes. As for me… I’m done.” Nino turned around to head towards the door to leave. He tugged had one hand on the door and the other on his shirt when he felt Alya had gotten a grasp on it. “…Ladybug told me she could no longer trust you for the fact you were unable to separate your hero life and with your civilian life. She could no longer ignore your behavior and to be frank… I’m ashamed for how we have been treating Marinette for something so… stupid.”

“Is that because you still have feelings for her? Is that it! Lila told me-”

“I’m done.” Nino tugged his shoulders out of his now ex-girlfriend’s grasps and walked out. He ignored Alya’s cried for him to return before the sound of her slamming the door shut reverberated the silent street. When he got to the end of the street, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Taking in a deep breath he dialed a familiar number and hoping they could pick up.

“Hello…? Nino?”

[mlbutatbspofsalt]

Somebody Else

Angsty song fic focusing on Marinette bc I love her and also teenagers under that much stress aren’t ok. 

CW: depression, suicide attempt

Adrien was heart broken. The only family he had left was gone. Chloe insisted her parents take him in, and so he moved into the suite next to hers. His classmates tried to get him to look on the bright side, so during the day he smiled at his new freedom, and during the night he cried because he felt so alone. He decided one night to go out and see if he could find his lady to talk to. That’s when he saw Marinette falling. He swooped in just in time.

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

I saw the part of you

That only when you're older you will see too

You will see too

Sabine and Tom knew they didn’t see much of their daughter anymore, but between school, designing, and just being a teenager, it seemed normal. Whenever she rushed out the door sure not to be late to school they could only catch a glimpse, not nearly long enough to examine the fake smile plastered on her face.

I held the better cards

But every stroke of luck has got a bleed through

It's got a bleed through

Tikki knew Marinette was struggling. She tried her best to help her chosen, but Marinette wouldn’t let her in. She felt a distance growing between them. Whenever they were in public Tikki couldn’t see her bug’s face to see through her false expressions. The laughter sounded a bit off, but Marinette said she was only tired. That was obvious with how much the girl had been sleeping lately, but Tikki didn’t believe that was all. Marinette wouldn’t talk about it, so there was only so much she could do.

You held the balance of the time

That only blindly I could read you

But I could read you

Chat had noticed something off about his lady. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking anymore. He still trusted her blindly, but he knew she wasn’t alright, though she kept telling him she was. He tried and tried, at first prying, but then just trying to be there and comfort her in any way he could. He stopped his advances. This wasn’t the time. She needed a friend. He wondered what happened to the ones she had mentioned before. He had already tried asking, but it wasn’t working, so he just let her know he was there for her and kept trying to make her smile, one he knew wasn’t over exaggerated so as not to make him worry.

It's like you told me

Go forward slowly

It's not a race to the end

To say Marinette wasn’t feeling well would be a lie. She wasn’t feeling at all. Repression left her numb. She couldn’t afford to be hurt by those around her anymore. It was getting too dangerous. If she was akumatized it would all be over.

Well you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

Luka knew exactly what was wrong the second he listened to her heart song. It was dull and barely there. He wanted to help. He knew the next part of her song would be loud, wild, angry, and sad, but he knew it had to be let out. Only once the turmoil was free could it be calmed, and then her song, while it would never be the same he knew, it could go back to being light and happy, if not somewhat subdued. He told Juleka to look out for her. She agreed, but didn’t understand.

You were the better part

Of every bit of beating heart that I had

Whatever I had

Adrien knew he lost his friend. She looked at him and gave a slight smile, but he knew all too well those cold unfeeling eyes. He looked at his father’s for far too long to not recognize them. He knew he messed up and wanted to make it up to her. In all his stupidity and ignorance and attempts not to hurt others, he hadn’t realized the pain Marinette was going through. One of his best friends, and he hurt her of all people.

I finally sat alone

Pitch black flesh and bone

Couldn't believe that you were gone

Marinette had realized a long time ago that Adrien wasn’t really there for her, not in the way that she needed. She didn’t allow herself to feel the heartbreak. She knew that he was the only person who could make the others see, and he didn’t. Now it was too late. It didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt anymore, so why make an akuma? The sooner Hawkmoth was defeated, the sooner this could be over and she could finally have a break and rest. Alya and Nino, her best friend and oldest friend, were too far gone to hope to reach. She sat with her view of all the people she once thought cared for her and took her notes. She didn’t have the energy, but no one could know. She couldn’t tell them.

Well you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

Tom and Sabine finally got their daughter down for a family dinner. She was sluggish and less emotional than usual, far more reserved. She said she was tired. She’d been saying that a lot lately. They were worried and told her she could stay home the next day to catch up on sleep. She tried to protest but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Well you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

Marinette was normally forgetful, but recently she couldn’t remember nearly anything. She had no concept of time. She’d forget to eat for days, not feeling the hunger pains, and it would go unnoticed until someone pointed out her stomach rumbling. She was getting far too skinny. Her perfectly tailored clothes that she had made exactly to her measurements were falling off of her. She took them in and wore extra layers to make it seem as though she was fine. She couldn’t let them know she wasn’t ok.

Where are we?

Where are we?

Every time Luka saw her, he cried once she left. Tikki was constantly sneaking away to Fu at night. She was so worried and more than once she had cried herself to sleep there. Adrien didn’t know what to do. Even her classmates that Lila had so thoroughly brainwashed were getting worried. Lila twisted it until they were no longer concerned. Everyone except Adrien and Chloe were fooled. Even Chloe was concerned for her and did her best to focus Lila’s attention on herself instead of Marinette.

Well you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

Marinette had stopped talking. She gave the briefest response possible if she found she had to. She saw him less and less, but she would occasionally stop by to see Luka, where she knew she didn’t have to say a word. Both Luka and Adrien had voiced concerns to her parents who were concerned themselves. They busied themselves trying to make her happy and find a counselor. They tried everything, and Marinette was a great actress easing their concerns. She worked until everyone was fooled into thinking she was getting better. She stopped seeing Luka, the one person she couldn’t.

Well you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

Hawkmoth finally went down. Gabriel Agreste. And Mayura, Natalie Sancoure. Adrien was Chat, because of course he was. Her partner of all people was the one that betrayed and broke her, though she supposed that wasn’t fair. Lila and Hawkmoth certainly didn't help and none of her other friends stuck up for her. But did it even matter? Was it really anyone's fault at all?

I saw the part of you that only when you're older

You will see too, you will see too

Ladybug made her way up to the top of the Eiffel Tower one last time. She detransformed. She sat there in the cold wind without her magic suit to keep her warm. She didn’t feel it though. Even her body had become numb after a while. She took off her earrings despite Tikki’s protest and left them in their box with a note for Chat Noir. She took one last look at the city she used to love and now felt nothing for. She had thought her feelings would come back to her after it was done, but even as she fell, she felt no fear, sadness, or satisfaction. She was only tired and would finally be able to rest.

Let me know if you want any sort of continuation or clarification.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 23: “Stay Quiet”

Using another alternate prompt today. This one ended up being a little longer than intended :P

~~~~~~~

Prompt: “Stay Quiet” (alternate prompt #8)

Fandom: Good Omens

Links: Ao3   FF.net

~~~~~~~

Aziraphale wiped his palms on his coat. He was nervous about being called unexpectedly to Heaven. He’d thought they were done with him. But he also wasn’t above helping if it was urgent. He just wished he didn’t have to see Gabriel while he was there. The angel had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t care if Aziraphale lived or died—permanently.

           Crowley hadn’t liked the thought of Aziraphale going to the meeting either, convinced it was a trap, but Aziraphale was, perhaps against his better judgement, willing to give his former co-workers the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was still an angel, it was his job to help those in need. And if Heaven was in need, he would help them too, though a naughty part of him said they didn’t deserve it.

           The angel he stumbled across first seemed surprised to see him.

           “What are you doing here?” she asked, almost suspicious.

           “I was summoned,” Aziraphale said, feeling even more self-conscious. “By Gabriel.”

           “Oh.” She gave a sharp nod. “He’s in his office.”

           Aziraphale made his way toward the archangel’s office and knocked on the door.

           “Enter,” came the businesslike reply.

           Aziraphale went in and found the archangel sitting at his desk, playing with a fountain pen.

           “Ah, Aziraphale, thanks for coming. Have a seat.”

           Aziraphale approached the desk and took the seat opposite the archangel, noticing that it was quite a bit lower than Gabriel’s. He straightened as much as he could in compensation.

           “Why did you call me?” he asked finally after a moment of obviously intentional silence, deciding it was best to get straight to business.

           “Ah, well, you see, Aziraphale, with you not working for us any more, we’ve been missing our ground team. We know you’re still performing unsanctioned miracles, but you do realize that you don’t have half the power you would if you were still working for us.”

           Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line. “That is true, but I didn’t think you wanted me.”

           “Well, whether we wantyou or not is irrelevant. It appears we… underestimated your usefulness,” Gabriel huffed. “So, I want to offer you a deal.”

           “A deal,” Aziraphale repeated.

           “Yes. Break your ties with that demon, and come work for us again, we’ll give you your old powers back—we’ll even promote you if you do your job well.” He leaned forward, a cold gleam in his eye. “If you accept this offer, you won’t have issues like with that car crash last week. Working for us, you would have been able to save everybody.”

           Aziraphale felt a chill go up his spine, not only for the fact Gabriel had been keeping track of him, but also because that crash had been terrible. He and Crowley had done what they could, but they could only do so many miracles.

           But still, he knew enough to be sure that Gabriel was lying. He couldcome back, but then what? They would do their best to brainwash him, control him, limit his ability to perform miracles to only the ones they wanted him to. And, of course, he and Crowley would have to go back to the old days of their Arrangement, and they had been doing so many good things. Helping with strange disturbances, as well as normal ones. They’d gotten used to being on their own side.

           So he drew a breath and looked Gabriel directly in the eye. “Thank you for the offer—it is most generous. But I’m afraid I cannot accept it.”

           He stood and started toward the door, when Gabriel was suddenly behind him, slamming a hand against the door before Aziraphale could open it, hemming the lesser angel in.

           “Not so fast,” the archangel said, steel in his voice. “You think I’m just going to let you walk out of here? No. You’re not leaving until you agree to my terms. This isn’t up for debate. We need to know what Hell is planning, what the antichrist might be planning—you’re the only one he’ll allow to get close to him.”

           “Get another angel to do your dirty work,” Aziraphale said icily. “I’m not going to be your attack dog, and I know that’s what you want me for.”

           Gabriel smiled, but there was no humor in it. “You always were too smart for your own good.” He slammed a fist into Aziraphale’s stomach and the lesser angel folded with a wheeze. Gabriel then threw him to the ground, kicking him several more times before hauling him back up and slamming him into the chair, hand around his throat.

           “I can be very persuasive when I want to be,” he growled. “Things are a mess since Armageddon didn’t happen and I need someone to help me fix it.”

           “To make you look good, you mean?” Aziraphale choked out.

           Gabriel snarled, slamming a fist into his face. “The mess was all your fault anyway. It’s only fair that you fix it.”

           Aziraphale lashed out, but Gabriel grabbed his wrist and twisted. Aziraphale cried out before the archangel’s hand was over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks savagely.

           “Shh. Don’t want to alert the others that you’re here. You see, you’d be working for me directly. They never need to know.”

           Aziraphale’s eyes widened. The other angels didn’t even know about Gabriel’s plan. Typical. He would have Aziraphale do stuff and take all the credit himself. He struggled, and grunted, trying to break free of Gabriel’s hold.

           The archangel’s only response was to slam a fist into his stomach again. “Do not ruin this for me,” Gabriel snarled. “So be a good little angel, and stay quiet.”

           Aziraphale cried out again in indignation, and Gabriel slammed his head against the desk, making everything go woozy, hand still held painfully over his mouth.

           “Now,” Gabriel said, leaning in closer, whispering himself now as there were footsteps heard out in the hallway. “Let’s have a more informed chat and talk stakes.”

           Aziraphale’s wide eyes met Gabriel’s as he struggled in the archangel’s grip. Gabriel gave a tight smile and dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s cheeks, and Aziraphale realized there was little point to the conversation. Gabriel had been waiting for this for a long time, and no matter Aziraphale’s answer, he was going to enjoy himself.

           He moaned and struggled again, but Gabriel shook his face warningly.

           “Ah-ah. Not a sound. Unless you have a yes for me, you can just stay quiet.”

XXX

Crowley gave Aziraphale twenty-four hours and then he went off with the plans to storm Heaven—well, to sneak into Heaven, but the result would be the same. Saving his stupid friend from whatever he had willingly walked into.

           Part of Crowley still hoped it was just some conference meeting run long—angels had no concept of time, after all—but the more logical part of him that had warnedAziraphale beforehand, knew that it had been a trap, and his friend was probably in a lot of trouble.

           Getting into Heaven was not easy for demons, but Crowley had learned a few tricks—after grilling Aziraphale, mostly for this reason. Now he was glad he had.

           So getting into Heaven wasn’t the problem. Finding Aziraphale was.

           He’d found him once before in a cell in what Heaven had passed as a prison. Was he there again? But why?

           Crowley had to hide quickly as he heard voices. He sneered; it was that bastard Gabriel.

           “Well, do it! I don’t have time for this!”

           “But sir, we need you to oversee it,” another angel said.

           Gabriel heaved a huge sigh. “Very well.” A door slammed and footsteps came closer. Crowley pressed himself against the wall, willing them not to see him, but the two angels continued on their way.

           Crowley furrowed his brow. Gabriel’s office. Maybe there was a clue there.

           He slipped down the hallway and to the first room, opening the door.

           He happened to get lucky.

           There was a gasp, then, cautiously, “…Crowley?”

           “Aziraphale?” Crowley demanded, rushing toward the corner where Aziraphale was manacled, the chain from the cuffs locked through the handle of a drawer. Crowley took in his battered appearance with fury and reached out to do what he could to break the cuffs.

           “Gabriel…ha-has the key,” Aziraphale said, voice still soft and hesitant.

           Crowley frowned, but turned to the desk. He snatched a pen and took it apart before finding a piece slim enough to fit into the cuffs. Within a few seconds he had snapped them open.

           “Come on, let’s go.”

           He hauled Aziraphale to his feet and the angel inhaled sharply, face scrunching in pain. Crowley felt rage wash over him, but he would worry about that later. He just needed to get them out of here first.

           They made their way back down the hallway and toward the way Crowley had gotten in. He was mostly supporting the angel, and that would prove a problem if they needed to move fast.

           And it seemed that would be put to the test.

           Footsteps approached, and Crowley recognized the gait as Gabriel’s. He hissed a curse as they came closer.

           “Crowley, what—” Aziraphale started before Crowley frantically shoved him back around the corner, a hand pressed over his mouth.

           “Shh, stay quiet,” he hissed.

           Aziraphale froze, but not in a good way.

           Crowley felt his rigidity and looked up at him. The angel’s eyes were glazed and his pulse had quickened. It was then that Crowley noticed the bruises in the same place his fingers pressed against Aziraphale’s cheeks. And he knew exactly why the angel had reacted in that way.

           Shit, he cursed silently and quickly pulled his hand away, taking Aziraphale’s face between his hands. “I’m sorry, angel,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t.”

           Aziraphale looked away, lips clamped tight. They waited until the footsteps receded again. They only had a moment to escape before Gabriel realized Aziraphale wasn’t there.

           “Let’s go,” Crowley said and hauled Aziraphale toward the exit.

           They slipped through just as Gabriel cried out in anger.

           They were back in London before they knew it, and Aziraphale collapsed against Crowley, panting, a few errant tears slipping from his eyes.

           “Come on, angel, let’s get you home,” Crowley murmured and helped him into the waiting Bentley.

           Aziraphale said nothing all the way back to the bookshop. It wasn’t until Crowley made tea and fetched what he needed to clean the angel’s injuries that he addressed the issue.

           “Aziraphale, you can speak—please. Talk to me,” he nearly pleaded.

           Aziraphale took a shaky sip of his tea, and Crowley noticed him wince at his split lip that had likely gotten smashed against his teeth.

           It took a long moment before he actually did speak. “He didn’t want the other angels to know he had me there,” Aziraphale said simply.

           Crowley refrained from throwing something but only barely. The only thing that kept him from doing so was because nothing in the shop was Gabriel.

           Instead, he sat opposite Aziraphale and put a hand on his knee, fighting back his anger. That wouldn’t help his friend right now. “Next time, will you listen to me when I tell you something is probably a trap?” he pleaded.

           Aziraphale nodded and sipped more tea. “I just wanted to help,” he whispered.

           Crowley’s stupid heart broke. How dare Gabriel make his angel feel like rubbish? Especially when Aziraphale was one of the only truly goodangels Heaven had to offer. Crowley vowed that the next time he saw Gabriel, he was going to beat the prick’s face in.

           “You already help, angel,” Crowley said, gripping his friend’s shoulder gently. “We both do. And we don’t need Heaven or Hell to tell us how to do it either.”

           Aziraphale forced a small, wavering smile, but he looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, I suppose we do.”

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Takara’s Hero Academia [S02 E06]

Well, well, well. Here we are at least! I finally got over some writer’s block and am back with a new chapter for you guys! I’m so sorry this took so long. I just couldn’t finish this chapter for some reason, but I think Season 4 kicked me out of that funk so here we are!

 Alright, lemme tag my wonderful supporters @dailyojiromashirao​, @elite-guard-hardygal​ (who is letting me borrow her OCs, the Teichidas, very sweetly as well as being basically a beta-reader for me cus they’re just that awesome!), and @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99​! Sorry again for the wait! 

Here is the Masterlist for this story for those who want to reread/catch up on previous chapters. 

I now also have a Ko-Fi account if anyone wants to support this story. It should even mean you get chapters faster. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

My teammates were walking toward us and I wave at them. 

"Sorry about that, guys." I say, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. Chiharu smiles sympathetically at me. 

"No sweat. You okay now?" 

I nod. "I got gummies." I reply shortly, clearing my throat. "So...where’d we place?" I ask. Hiyoko sighs, her arms crossed and an unreadable emotion on her face. 

"We tied with Team Tetsutetsu." Hiyoko explains, almost listlessly. I nod. 

"Cool." Was all I could think to say. Hiyoko groans. 

"This was our chance and we blew it!" She huffs. "You need to take this seriously, Takara!" I was too stunned to acknowledge that she used my first name. She thought...she thought I was…

"Hiyoko, I am taking this seriously! It sucks! I hate it cus it’s partly my fault! I should have used my Quirk better so we would’ve had a place in the finals! I’m sorry! I just can’t let myself get hung up on the past or I’ll--I’ll break down again!" I exclaim. Silence reigned and I have to walk away or I’ll break down in front of them or say something else I’d regret. Shinso follows, motioning everyone to stay.  

"Your dad said there was an hour lunch break, so we better get food now before the line gets too long." He muses. Feeling as bad as I had when I went into the bathroom, I only nod, looking at the ground as I plod along, eyes prickling as a warning of advancing tears. Hiyoko was right; no matter how positively I tried to spin it, I couldn’t deny the fact that I failed, that we wouldn’t go into the final game. And it still sucker-punched me in the gut just thinking about it. "C’mon, you said it yourself; you can’t get hung up on the past. Let’s get lunch and- -"

"Shinso, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually." I interrupt, finding something to distract myself with; the way he used his Quirk on his teammates instead of letting them be themselves. He raises a brow as I stop and turn to him, crossing my arms. "You brainwashed your teammates." I point out sourly. 

He shrugs. "That’s what my Quirk does, yeah." I grit my teeth, reaching out and smacking his shoulder. 

"Baka! What were you thinking?!" I hiss, unsure whether this sudden frustration was at myself or Shinso, but either way, I needed to let it out. 

"Ow! So what? I want to show people what I can do! I don’t see the problem, Takara." Shinso replies, rubbing his shoulder. My eye twitches. 

"Dude! You want people to know you’re an aspiring hero, right? So don’t brainwash everyone you need to team up with! Let them be themselves and build up a mutual trust as equals! It looks bad when you go around just brainwashing people cus you need a team!" 

Shinso frowns. "I know what I’m doing." 

I glare back. "I don’t think you do!" 

"Okay, fine! Look, unless we’re in combat or something, I won’t use my Quirk again, alright? Happy?!" 

I sigh heavily, the emotions fading a little. "Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have exploded at you. I’m just...frustrated and...and I guess disappointed. I should have been able to think rationally and ensure we made it to the next game, but I blew it and now I’m stuck on the sidelines, without much hope for recruitment." 

"Based strictly on your performance in the Festival, maybe not.” 

I wince, knowing that blunt truth already. 

“But,” Shinso continues, stepping a little closer, “keep in mind, people also saw and heard that you were involved with that sludge villain attack a while ago, and then in the USJ incident. If they’re smart, they’ll look at your history and see how amazing you are and give you an offer for an internship. Plus, you did pull off some amazing moves in the obstacle course and in the cavalry battle." 

I take a breath. He was right. This doesn’t mean my chances at being a pro are gone. 

I manage a smile at him. "Okay. Okay, yeah. You’re right." He nods and we head back to our class waiting rooms to grab our wallets in silence, promising to meet at the entrance to the food court, where I assume we’ll run into my other teammates and maybe some of 1-A, too.

Suddenly, I hear someone growl "All Might." I pale and instinctively inch closer out of curiosity. 

"I haven’t seen you since that press conference ten years ago." Toshin-Oji replies.  "Been a while. I saw you and figured I’d say ‘hi’." 

Whoever Toshin-Oji is talking to huffs. "Did you now?" The person says in a mocking voice. "Well, if that’s all you wanted to do, we’re done." I hear footsteps receding and the grumbling male voice muttering to themselves, then Toshin-Oji laughs and I hear motion and then a fairly heavy landing. 

"C’mon, why the cold shoulder?" All Might asks. Did he seriously not pick up on the high level of ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ this guy’s giving off? Or is there a point my uncle’s getting at here? "You should be thrilled; after all, your son’s doing very well out there, just using half his power." Was Toshin-Oji referring to Shoto, cus Shoto has two powers? If so, was he talking to- -wait...he’s talking to Endeavor?! I didn’t know those two didn’t get along to this extent. "You must be a great teacher!" I blink. Was he serious? Did he seriously just want to talk to Endeavor about teaching methods? Was he that unsure of his own teaching abilities? 

"Are you implying something?" Endeavor growls. 

"No!" Toshin-Oji replies. "I want to know your secrets. How do we train the next generation of heroes?" 

"Do you really think I’d tell you anything I’ve taught the boy? You’re all flash and no brains as usual. Outta my way!" I almost come out of my hiding place and snap at Endeavor, but manage to stay in place and bite my tongue. It was very disrespectful to talk that way to your elders, no matter how deserving they are of a lecture.

"...Okay." All Might mumbles. He finally decided to stop pressing Endeavor into talking to him. The receding footsteps halt. 

"Let me assure you of one thing, All Might." Endeavor growls, halting. "Whatever it takes, that kid of mine will beat you someday." I blink. I wasn’t terribly close to Shoto, but hearing this exchange, I might have to change that. His dad sounds like a scumbag! "I’ll make sure of it. That’s why I created him." I have to put my hand over my mouth to suppress a gasp of shock and disgust. I didn’t like the sound of that at all! If that’s Shoto’s home life...no wonder the kid’s a bit...reserved. So this sleazeball just married and had a kid so his kid could do what he couldn’t? Good God! Poor Shoto! I decide that was enough and move to walk away. "He’s in a rebellious phase right now, but he will take your place." Is the last thing I hear. Slightly horrified and disturbed, I walk away and jog to get my wallet. That feeling didn’t go away.

"Hey, are you okay?" Shinso asks when I see him. I nod. Obviously, that conversation wasn’t meant to be public, so I shouldn’t spread it around. 

"Yeah, just hungry." We walk to the cafeteria, neither needing to speak.

I hope I can still get my food now before Mom and Dad get there- -I stop short when I feel a buzz. I’d gotten a text and reluctantly open it to find it’s from Dad. 

Oto-san <3333: 

Hey Tik-Tak! You rocked it out there! Your mom and I are heading down the food court! Mind meeting us there so we can eat together???? 

I wince. The more question marks, the less option I had. I bite my lip to hold in a groan. Mom and Dad meant well and surely they knew that not everyone could get into the final game, right? They wouldn’t be mad, right? I then jump a little as I feel a hand on my shoulder. 

"Hey." Oh shit! I was feeling...weird after everything that had happened today, and who else should show up but Eijiro?! I put a smile on (genuinely happy to see him) and turn. 

"Hey." I reply, putting my phone in my pocket. "Whassup?" 

He sighs. "Saw your team’s ranking." 

I bite my lip. "Yeah...um...congrats on getting second!" I say without a whole lot of emotion. I was too drained for that. 

He chuckles. "Yeah...I’m really sorry- -" 

"Let’s not talk about that, okay?" I feel bad for interrupting him, but Eijiro just smiles a little and nods. 

"Right, right. You getting lunch?" I smile. 

"Yeah. Mom and Dad wanna meet…" I then sniffle, feeling that damn prickling again. Crap why am I crying?! My parents won’t care, right? They just want to eat with me! I’m their kid, so it’s natural! 

"Hey, hey! Don’t cry!" Eijiro cries, thankfully not too loud as he moves to hug me and I break and clutch him to me. It was stupid, but here I was, crying again over this stupid Sports Festival! I look up to see that tears were forming in Eijiro’s eyes. "Takara, really, it’s gonna be okay. I know it sucks, but I promise it’ll turn out okay, just keep your head up." 

I try to get a hold of myself and nod, wiping my tears away. "Th-thanks, Eijiro." I mumble genuinely, sniffling again. I then spot a water fountain and take a long drink from it. Again, it made me feel a bit better. Now, to lunch. Eijiro walks with me and I find my hand inching toward his, wanting to hold it, but I refrain from grabbing it. We hadn’t crossed that boundary yet. He’d think I was weird if I just grabbed his hand.

And yet, he was here, just walking beside me and being there. 

Much as Shinso had been for me, but this was different. Shinso was an amazing help but Eijiro was a different but equally valuable type of support. 

We slowly make our way to the cafeteria, not needing words, just each other’s presence and then I saw both my parents and my teammates. 

I wave, feeling my heart skip in anxiety as I approach. Mom smiles at me, and Dad’s first to reach me, scooping me up and swinging me around. 

"You did awesome out there, Tik-Tak!" He exclaims. I blink as he sets me back down. I spot Shinso giving me a ‘told you so’ look in my peripheral vision.

"But...but I didn’t...I didn’t get into the final game." I mumble, my heart wanting to believe they weren’t going to be upset, but my head unconvinced just yet for some reason. 

"These things happen, Takara." Mom says, hand on my shoulder. "Next time, though, don’t let your emotions get the best of you and be able to think on your feet." 

"And don’t make yourself pass out!" Dad snaps, playfully smacking my shoulder. "That was really foolish, sweetheart!" I rub the smacked shoulder and nod. 

"Yeah I know." I blush at being scolded in front of my classmates and those I’d teamed up with. Mom then comes to my rescue. 

"Well, enough about that; who are your new friends?" She asks. 

"We’re not quite friends, Ma’am, but my name is Hiyoko Teichida and this is my stepbrother, Ryuji." Hiyoko replies before anyone else can. I roll my eyes. 

"Don’t pretend you don’t love me." I tease. Hiyoko scoffs. 

"I’ve never pretended to do or be anything." I laugh and throw my arm around Chiharu’s shoulder. 

"Suuurrreee...Anyway, this is my friend, Chiharu! She’s that third year I bumped into’s little sister." Mom and Dad nod. 

"We’re the Yamadas, if you didn’t know." Dad says, gesturing between Mom and himself. "We teach- -" 

"I know." Chiharu interjects gently. "You guys kinda have a rep around the school." Dad laughs. 

"I see." Mom frowns. 

"I understand Hizashi having one, but how do I have a rep?" I raise a brow, chuckling. 

"You expelled an entire class." I retort. Mom has an ‘ooohhhh’ face and nods. 

"Right." Dad puts his arm around Mom and I’s shoulders as I release Chiharu. 

"I don’t know about you guys but I’m starving!" 

I laugh. "Yeah me too!" We get food and find a table to sit at, but couldn’t find one with enough room for my friends, so I sit with my parents. We were close to the girls of 1-A, and I wave at them. 

"You okay after passing out?" Dad asks, hand on my shoulder. I nod, looking down. 

"Yeah. Um, I got gummies and water and feel better." 

"That’s good." Mom replies, thankfully not pressing me for details. "Eat." I do, and look directly at my parents. 

"...Thanks for not focusing on me in the commentary." I mumble. Mom nods. 

"I know the audience made things worse for me during my first Festival and I didn’t want to subject you to that if I could avoid it." I smile at her. 

"Thank you." I reply, feeling relief flood me. They weren’t upset at all that I hadn’t made it into the final game. Deep down, I’d known that, but it was so reassuring to hear it directly from them, in their own way of saying it. 

We enjoyed the rest of our meal in silence before it happened. 

At first, I thought nothing of Denki and the creep walking over to the girls’ table, though I noted it out of the corner of my eye and through my earth quirk. 

Then I overheard what they said. 

Mom had gone to the bathroom and Dad went to get a refill on his drink. Seemingly by chance, the boys chose right then to approach the table. 

"Yaoyorozu, Jiro." I hear Denki call. I look over curiously. He sounded serious...

"Uh-huh? Did you need something?" Momo asks, turning to look at him as well. I sip at my drink. Mineta motions to the cheerleaders passing by. 

"Well, I’m sure you already know, since you’re, like, the class rep, but they said all the girls have to wear those uniforms for the big cheer battle this afternoon." That did it. There was no cheer battle! Those perverts just want to get the girls in those skimpy outfits. I slam the chair back and stand, stalking over. 

"Uh, h-hey, Takara!" Denki cries. They weren’t counting on me interfering, apparently. I cross my arms and tap my foot, making a show of thinking. 

"You know...I just can’t quite remember…" I mumble. Denki’s stupid enough to take the bait. 

"Can’t remember...what, exactly?" I whirl on him angrily. 

"Remember when either of my parents told me about this quote-unquote cheer battle!" I snap, arms stick straight at my sides, my anger clear on my face.

"W-well, they probably assumed you- -"

"Don’t try me!" I snap. "They said no such thing and you know it, you perverts!" The boys stutter and stammer for a reply and I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Go back to your lunches before I smack you two!" I growl. The boys slink off, muttering to themselves as I sigh heavily and put my hands on my hips. 

"God, they’re idiots." I grumble, turning to the table of girls. 

"Those little perverts!" Kyoka growls, crossing her arms over her stomach. 

"I almost fell for it. Thanks, Takara." Momo adds, hand over her chest in relief. I nod. 

"Anytime. Someone needs to put those two creeps in their place. Honestly, I’m surprised Denki was a part of the scheme, but I guess all boys have that side, to some degree." I mumble to myself, roll my eyes, then turn to the girls’ table and smile. "Enjoy your lunch!" I chirp, turning to walk off. It struck me then that Eijiro most definitely wouldn’t have been a part of that scheme. He’d have put a stop to it sooner than I did, if he knew it was happening. He was a gentleman who had respect for women.

"Thanks, Yamada!" Ochaco calls after me, interrupting my thoughts. I wave back and sit down just as my parents come into my field of vision. I sip at my water and pretend I hadn’t moved. 

"Something happen?" Dad asks as he sits down, chuckling. "Kaminari and Mineta look scared to death." 

I shrug. "They probably got called out on something." I reply, unable to help a smirk. Mom and Dad crack a small smile and chuckle. Figures they'd see through it.

"I see. Well, let’s hurry up and finish. I want a little nap before the finals." I bite my lip. I’d be stuck in the stands the entire time. 

"Yeah, you’re right." Dad replies, standing. He smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. "We’ll see you later, Tik-Tak." He says, drawing me in for a hug. I hug him back. 

"See you." I briefly hug mom and walk over to the table Eijiro sat at after throwing my garbage away. He smiles at me and I feel warmer all of a sudden. 

"Hey, Kara!" He greets. 

"Hey. You all about ready to head out?" I ask. Eijiro nods, standing. 

"If you are, sure!" He grabs the last few bites and swallows almost without chewing, then grabs his tray and all his trash. I smile and hold up my hands. 

"Don't mean to rush you, Eijiro." I reply. He comes back to me, smiling. 

"Seriously, Kara, I was leaving anyway." He then starts walking and I catch up. This time, I swear Eijiro's hand inches toward mine, even barely touching it, and I can't help feeling like his touch was magical, warming the skin his hand touched.

=#=#=#=#=

“Get those hands in the air! It’s almost time for the last round!” Dad cheers from the commentary booth, and I can’t help smiling in amusement. He absolutely loved commentating. 

One of my favorite memories involved pretending I was saving an entire city while Dad played the part of the frazzled but awestruck news reporter who was caught up in the action with his cameraman, and man did Dad ever dive into the role. I shake myself and pay attention. “But before that, good news for those who didn’t make the finals!” I knew what he was about to say; there were games to play.

As soon as he explains the next game to the finalists, I’d leave. I didn’t feel like playing any games. 

“Have fun competing in those side games, everyone!” Dad encourages. The screen then displays a tournament-style ranking system, and I realize what the final ‘game’ is. It’s a sparring tournament. “After they’re over, the 16 students from the top four teams will be duking it out 1-on-1 in a tournament style competition! I promise you’re not gonna want to miss these epic matchups!” I smile. I’d be watching and cheering my classmates and Shinso on. 

“Aww yeah! Finally getting a chance to show what we’re made of!” I almost forgot I was so close to Eijiro, scooting just a little away to give him some space. His eyes and his expression shift into something like elation and excitement, the area seeming lighter as a result. I blush a little, accidentally staring at him. His eyes were locked on the screen, though, so he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve watched these finals every year and now I’m finally in them!” I smile, feeling happy for him and his excitement. It was hard not to, given the look on his face.

“So, wait...is it always a tournament?” Mina asks curiously. 

“The final’s always a 1-on-1 competition, but they switch it up every time.” Hanta explains, smiling in excitement as well. 

I nod. “When my parents were in the Festival, they had to spar with foam boxing gear and could use their Quirks to distract or block their opponents, but not attack directly. It was a weird way to fight but it taught them new applications for their Quirks.” I add, not feeling a bit resentful or jealous of those around me who were finalists. 

“Come closer and draw lots to see who you’re up against.” That almost breaks my good mood, but I maintain it by thinking of getting to watch and take notes on all the amazing fights. It’ll be fascinating to see how each of my classmates and the other classes that were in the finals fight and interact. “Then enjoy the pleasure of the Recreational Games before we start. The 16 finalists have the option of participating in those activities or sitting out to prepare for battle. I’m sure you all want to converse your stamina.” Oba Nemuri continues, then walks a little closer. “I’ll start with the first place team.” She says, but suddenly Ojiro puts his hand up. I turn to look at him, surprised. What was he up to? 

“Um...excuse me.” He murmurs, seeming nervous. “Sorry, but I’m withdrawing.” That sends a shock through everyone. 

“What? That’s crazy!” I exclaim before I can stop myself. 

“No way!” Izuku adds. 

“This is a rare chance for you to get scouted!” Tenya protests. Ojiro puts his hand down, staring into space. 

“It just wouldn’t be right.” I suddenly remember he was on Shinso’s team, if I’m not mistaken. “I barely remember anything from the Cavalry Battle until the very end of it.” I wince. He was definitely on Shinso’s team. “I think it was that guy’s Quirk.” Thankfully, he doesn’t point out Shinso. I spot him in my peripheral vision and meet his eye. I glance to Ojiro with a stern look to say ‘see what I was talking about?’ and Shinso looks only a little remorseful, but not terribly concerned about the consequences of his actions either. I sigh and refocus on Ojiro. “I know this is a great opportunity. I wish I could take advantage of it, but my conscience won’t let me.” I have to admit, I could see where Ojiro is coming from here, but at the same time…

“Just think about this.” Izuku pleads, stepping a little closer. 

“I have, okay?” Ojiro replies, and I can tell he was upset that it had come to this, but his mind was made up. “Everyone gave their all in Round 2, but I was just someone’s puppet. No way. I don’t want to advance if I don’t even know how I got here. It wouldn’t be far.” 

“That’s not true!” I chime in. “Ojiro, please. You don’t remember, yeah, but you still did good! You still earned a spot in the finals! There’s only 16 kids here that can say that! Do it for them if you have to, but please don’t waste this chance!” 

“Kara’s right!” Hagakure adds, shaking her gloved hands around. “You’re making too much of this! Just kill it in the finals and prove you should be there!” I nod my agreement. 

“Yeah, what the girls said.” Mina is next to speak, smiling. “I didn’t do much in the battle either.” Ojiro puts his hand over his eyes, seeming to shake slightly in emotion. 

“That’s not it.” He replies. I decide to leave the decision ultimately up to Ojiro. After all, we were kind of dog-piling on him. “I’m talking about my pride here. I refuse to give that up.” Everyone seems to join me in giving up trying to change Ojiro’s mind. Before Oba can decide what to do with Ojiro’s withdrawal, there’s another development. 

Another kid walked closer to the stage Oba was on. “Nirengeki Shoda from Class 1-B. I think I should withdraw for the exact same reason. Regardless of how strong I am, this isn’t how I wanted to get here!” I blink. This kid was as moral as Ojiro, unwilling to sacrifice his pride or personal values just to get into the finals. “It would go against the values of the festival to advance without earning my spot!” Ojiro seems more relaxed now he had someone agreeing with him and joining him. 

Beside me, Eijiro seems emotional, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“Listen to these guys!” He murmurs, “They’re so manly!” I chuckle and pat his shoulder. 

“No need to cry, dude.”

“I can’t help it.” He replies, wiping his eyes. “Sorry.” 

“You’re okay.” 

“Well now,” Dad says over the PA, unsure where this was going, “this is another weird turn of events.” Mom hums. 

“We’ll have to see what Midnight has to say about all this. She’s the one in charge.” 

For her part, Oba seems to be thinking it over. She then holds out her whip. “This sort of talk is incredibly naive, my boys!” She reprimands sternly, cracking the whip to punctuate what she was saying. “That turns me on!” I turn bright red. 

“Can she not talk like that on live TV?” I moan, facepalming as everyone takes in what she said. 

“Shoda, Ojiro, you’re withdrawn!” She doesn’t seem to be in the least affected by what she said. She then puts his hand to her chin in thought. “Let’s see...we’ll have to move up two students from the fifth-place cavalry team so we have enough contestants.” That was true. That was...Kendo’s team, right? Wasn’t she the red-head I took the headband from? 

Confirming my thoughts as if on cue, the girl I took the headband from raises a hand a bit. Yeah, she’s Kendo. 

“We were frozen most of the time.” She points out. “Honestly we barely did anything in the calvary battle, right girls?” It seems Ojiro and Shoda’s withdrawal inspired students to act on their morals and pride. Kendo looks to her teammates for confirmation, which was provided in nods. “You should choose from the group that kept fighting the whole time.” Wait... didn’t my teammates and I tie with Tetsutetsu? That means...maybe I have a chance! 

“Kendo!” Tetsutetsu protests, shocked his classmate would give up her chance in the finals too.

“I’m not doing this as a favor.” She explains, “It’s just fair.” Tetsutetsu seems as emotional as Eijiro had gotten. 

“Seriously you guys! Thank you!” He cries. 

“Hmmm,” Oba all but purrs, tapping her finger on her chin, “Team Teichida and Team Tetsutetsu were tied in the match.” She announces, seeming to think it over a bit. “Now...what to do about that…” She then snaps her fingers. “Oh, I know! We’ll add a thrilling wildcard and open four slots!” Everyone is shocked and Oba wriggles delightedly. 

“Wait what?!” Dad exclaims, “Midnight, what are you thinking!?” 

“Just what I said; a wild card element will be so much fun!” Oba runs a hand through her hair, licking her lips and making everyone uncomfortable, “Besides, it’ll work out as long as there are still an even number of contestants. It just means one extra match!” She explains, waving aside any concerns. “Now, Team Teichida and Team Tetsutetsu will have to vote who goes into the finals! Two from each team to make it fair!” She announces. “Teams, get together and discuss it!” Suddenly, Hiyoko was in front of me, Ryuji not far behind. I jump a little. 

“So?” Hiyoko asks, getting straight to the point. I notice Chiharu walking up behind the Teichidas and wave at her. Hiyoko huff impatiently. “Who’s going into the finals?” She presses, crossing her arms. I sigh. 

“Honestly, Chiharu can go. I screwed us up in the cavalry battle, so she should go.” I mumble. Chiharu instantly grabs my shoulders. 

“Are you crazy?! I’d be eliminated first round I fight in! I know that! I don’t have that much physical might. Compared to the others in the finals, I’m not up to the task.” She replies. I frown, gently peeling her hands off before she gave me whiplash. 

“Chiharu, really, I- -”

“You’re going, sis.” She interrupts, smiling at me. “Just kick butt for me, okay?” I look her in the eyes, really wanting to take her offer but wanting to make sure she actually wanted me to go to the finals. 

“You sure? This is a big deal...” It was a moment in the spotlight, and an opportunity to get recruited by pro heroes for an internship. 

“Yes!” She barks before I could press her further. “Honestly I know my limits and this fighting competition thing is beyond me. You do your best and have fun. Don’t worry.” I sigh. 

“If you’re sure, then...thank you.” She pats my shoulder. Hiyoko nods, then turns to her step-brother. 

“Alright, now that that’s settled, you go, Ryuji-boy.” Ryuji seems taken aback. 

“Wait what?” He asks. “Hiyoko-nee...are you...are you sure?” She nods. 

“Yeah.” It was clear she didn’t actually want Ryuji to go, but she was being a big sister. “This is your time in the spotlight, so don’t waste it, baka.” She grumbles. Ryuji looks his sister in the eye. 

“Hiyoko, seriously. I know what you’re doing. I want you to go.” 

“No! This is your chance to show yourself for once, you idiot! Now get out there and kick ass!” Ryuji shakes his head. 

“Not this time. Look, you need to do something for yourself here, Hiyoko. I know what this means to you. I promise I’ll be fine. You deserve this. Besides, there’s always next year.” Hiyoko seems to be trying to contain herself, but I think she appreciated the sacrifice Ryuji was making. She playfully smacks his shoulder. 

“Don’t get mad at me when I’m in the spotlight, okay?” 

He smiles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I look to Hiyoko. 

“So, looks like we’re going to the finals.” I muse, smirking. 

“If we fight, and we might, I’ll take you down.” I scoff. 

“We’ll see.” 

With Hiyoko, sometimes you had to return fire with fire. We watch Team Tetsutetsu discussing which members would go, soon reaching the conclusion that Tetsutetsu and some girl with vines for hair were going to the finals. Together the four of us approach Oba. “So, you four were agreed upon unanimously?” Oba asks. I nod. 

“Yup!” She smiles, cracking the whip. 

“Perfect! It’s been decided that Teichida Hiyoko, Yamada Takara, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, and Ibara Shiozaki are to fill the open slots in the final round.” We all quickly draw lots and file them to see who we had to fight. She then points with her whip to the screen, where the lots were filled in. “Take a look at the brackets, my dears! That’s who you’ll be fighting!” The crowd cheers as they read the screen and who will be fighting who. I scan and spot my name...right next to Hiyoko’s. Crap! She jinxed it! 

I then continue across the brackets and spot Eijiro’s name and see that he’s fighting Tetsutetsu. I laugh. “Seriously?!” Eijiro growls. “How does this keep happening?!” Tetsutetsu was nearby since we were the finalists. I laugh harder. 

The other pairs assess each other, exchanging brief words of various subjects, mostly ‘I’ll do my best to beat you’ type talk. 

Appearing once again like magic, Hiyoko’s voice comes over my shoulder. 

“We’re against each other.” She murmurs, eyes on the screen. I jump. 

“I need to put a bell on you or something.” I grumble, hand on my chest. 

“Don’t be a whimp.” Hiyoko sniffs. “I expect a good fight, Yamada.” So she was back to calling me by my last name. Great. 

“Just remember you asked for it.” I reply, crossing my arms and smirking. “Tell you what; I win you call me Takara or Kara. I lose, you can call me Yamada.” She frowns. 

“What?” I chuckle. 

“I prefer Takara to Yamada, so let’s make a bet.” I explain. She chuckles. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll take that bet, Yamada.” She walks off before I can reply, and I shake my head. Always a mystery, that one. 

I then notice that Izuku is against Shinso. I look around and find Shinso walking over to Izuku. He acts casual, glancing at the board like that was why he was there. 

“That is you, right?” He asks calmly. “Izuku Midoriya?” Izuku jumps, startled but manages a nod. Shinso smiles. “A pleasure. So, you excited?” I notice Ojiro walking over like he knew what could happen. I walk faster to get over there. Izuku opens his mouth, but before I can call out or Izuku can speak, Ojiro has his tail over Izuku’s mouth. 

“Not so fast.” He grumbles, glaring at Shinso like he’d been about to hurt Izuku. I finish my approach. 

“There you are, Shinso!” I call. Ojiro is so startled, he releases Izuku. 

“Hey, Takara.” Shinso replies, smiling. “So you got in after all. Congrats.” I chuckle. 

“Yeah, pure luck.” Ojiro looks ready to pop from either confusion or anger. 

“Wait, Takara, you know this guy?” I frown at Ojiro. 

“Yeah I do. We went to middle school together.” 

“So you know his Quirk?” I sigh. 

“Yes. I do. He’s never used it on me, though. I know you don’t believe me, but Shinso’s a good guy.” Ojiro scoffs, then walks away. Izuku looks between us before going after Ojiro. I decided to stay with Shinso. 

“Thanks for that.” I sigh. 

“No problem.” 

“I know what you’re gonna say.” He says before I could say anything else. I raise a brow. 

“Oh?” I ask. 

“Yeah. It’s because of me brainwashing my team for the cavalry battle that the tail guy is suspicious of me.” I nod. 

“Well glad you know that.” I mumble. “Look, Shinso; you keep pulling stunts like that, people will never see past the Quirk. I’m sorry to be blunt but it’s true. You have to earn people’s trust, make them see how good a person you are.” He chuckles. 

“You keep saying that. I know that in my head, but sometimes I get carried away.” 

“That’s gonna happen but you have to keep a level head here. I get you’ll have to use it in these fights, but use it sparingly, okay?” Shinso smirks. 

“Takara, I’ll win. No one knows how to break my hold on them, so I’ll win easily.” 

“Unless you fight me. I know how to break free if you use it on me.” I point out. 

“Takara, I’ll keep my promise. I’ve been looking at fighting styles, so I’ll try my best at physical fighting if we’re paired up.” I nod. 

“To make it fair I won’t use my Quirk on you, either. It’ll be a normal fight.” Shinso ruffles my hair. 

“Trust you to play fair even when you know it’s not the smart play.” He notes. I roll my eyes. 

“Whatever, dork. You’ll see what I can do when I fight.” 

“Yeah yeah. See yah around.” I wave him off. I then went to find Izuku. 

“Okay, let’s push pause for a momentary interlude!” Dad cheers. “Before the battles begin, it’s time for some pulse-pounding side games!” I take that as a cue to leave, not interested in the games. The less my blood sugar yo-yos the better. 

Arriving in the 1-A waiting room, I find Izuku and Ojiro there. 

“Can I beat something like that?” Izuku was asking as I take a seat as if I were meant to be here. The boys look surprised, but they accept my presence readily. I tilt my head. 

“Sorta. If it were any other circumstance than 1-on-1 fights, you could be able to.” I explain automatically. Then realize the question was at Ojiro. “Sorry.”

“No you know him better, apparently.” He replies. I nod. 

“He’s actually pretty powerful, in a way. People who don’t know his Quirk wouldn’t be able to break out of his control. You answer a question, you’re his, but there is a way out. Simply put; you need external stimuli, like a push or pinch. Something to jolt your adrenaline and stimulate pain. It doesn’t need to be something extreme, just a little.” Izuku nods. 

“Which means I can’t rely on that.” I nod. 

“That’s what I meant by you maybe winning in anything but a 1-on-1 match.” I reply, sighing. “Honestly, your best shot is saying nothing to him and fighting him hand-to-hand.” I then run a hand down my face. “I don’t know who to root for, but I guess I wanted to even the playing field.” I continue. Izuku sighs. 

“Even though you know him, thanks for telling me.” 

“Don’t sweat it. Understand if Shinso asks I’ll tell him the basics of your power.” Izuku seems to pick up what I was saying (I wouldn’t reveal his secret but I’d give Shinso something to go on) and nods. 

“Of course. Thanks again.” I smile. 

“Good luck. He’ll try to get you to talk.” 

Izuku fist-bumps Ojiro and I and we walk together back out to the arena. 

“You told him?” Shinso asks after I separate from my friends. I stop walking. 

“It felt fair. I’m sorry.” I reply softly. 

“You know what doesn’t change my strategy, right?” 

I nod. “I guess that’s why I told him. I knew it wouldn’t matter to you, but I felt it fair to warn him.” 

Shinso sighs. “Fair or not, it’s done. Honestly, it won’t matter. I’ll still find a way to make him talk and get him under my Quirk.” 

I smirk. “You’ll try. I’ll watch you. Honestly, I don’t know who to vote for.” 

“I don’t expect you to vote for anyone. It’s enough that you’re watching and not judging me by my Quirk.” I ruffle his hair. 

“You know it!” I then wave and make my way to the Class 1-A seating and sit down, sighing contentedly. 

“I saw your ranking, Takara. It’s fortunate you got into the final round.” Comes Tenya’s voice behind me. I start a little and turn to look at him. 

“Yeah...congrats on getting into the finals too!” I reply, genuinely happy for him. He deserved it. He smiles a little. 

“It was thanks to Todoroki’s leadership.” He says humbly. “But thank you.” I nod. 

“Anytime.” One of the things I liked about Tenya is that he never forced conversation, always saying what he wanted to say then leaving it at that. I turn to watch the games, almost feeling bad for skipping them, but I needed a rest. I still felt a bit tired from all the excitement of the day. 

“I saw you’re up against someone from your cavalry team, that right?” 

I nod. “Yeah. She was the leader of our team She’s a nut, but I like her.” 

Tenya smiles. “Trust you to make friends of your enemies.” 

I roll my eyes. “She’s not an enemy. No one here is really an enemy. This is a friendly competition at heart. This isn’t meant to divide people.” 

Tenya chuckles. “I suppose so. Still, it is a competition. You have to treat it like one.” 

“I know.” The relative quiet of the arena settled between us again. I watch Cementoss begin to create the platform for the coming matches using his Quirk. “I hope to have that kind of control of my Quirk one day. I mean he’s not even trying and he’s making an entire structure.” I’d spoken without thinking, leaning back in my chair in the row with the best view of the arena. 

“Hmm, full control of your Quirk is an admirable goal, Takara. I think you have the drive to achieve it, based on what I’ve seen so from you.” I smile, looking him in the eye. 

“Thanks, Tenya. That means a lot.” I tell him. I then see Cementoss create the last little bit of the platform and stand. 

“That’s it. I’m pretty much done here.” He says. 

“Thank you, Cementoss!” Dad cheers, the screen showing him smiling happily, waving his arms, and in general being Dad. “Hey, sports fans! Are you ready?!” The response is instant and loud, the cheering almost rattling the entire stadium. “After all the action you’ve already witnessed, it’s time for the real battles to begin! Can you feel the excitement! Our competitors are on their own now. Sometimes heroes only have themselves to rely on. Heart, skill, strength, wisdom, courage! They’ll have to use all these things to rise to the top!” My class had been filtering in while I was focused on what was going on, I notice, as Dad pauses for the cue that the fight could start. It comes fairly quickly, Dad having timed things fairly well. The cue, flames from the corners further from where the actual fight would be held. “Alright, audience! Let’s cut to the good stuff and not delay these finals any longer!” Dad spreads his arms. “Welcome our first fighters!” 

The screen displays Shinso and Izuku. We’d had our picture taken before being shown to the waiting room. We were all decidedly nervous, but Izuku showed it a bit too much. He looked like someone had threatened him. “Whoa! He looks kinda scared in that picture, doesn’t he?” Dad teases as the boys walk toward the platform. “It’s Izuku Midoriya from the Hero Course, versus Hitoshi Shinso from General Studies, a guy who hasn’t done anything to stand out yet. The rules are simple! Immobilize your opponent or force them out of the ring! You can also win by making the other person cry ‘Uncle’!” Dad smirks. “Bring on the injuries cus we’ve got our very own Recovery Girl waiting on standby! So put your morals aside and don’t be afraid to play dirty!” I sigh. Did he really have to talk like that? “But of course no life-threatening crap, folks. That’s not allowed! Real heroes use their powers to throw villains in jail, not kill them!” 

Cementoss sits in the referee’s chair, waving a little as he did. “I’ll stop anyone who gets too rough.” He murmurs. Izuku takes a deep breath, preparing for his match. 

“So you can just give up, huh?” Shinso asks. “In a way, this is a test of how strong your spirit is. If you know what  you want your future to hold for you, you can’t worry about what other people think.” I smile proudly at him. I think I said something very similar to him once. I’m glad he’s taking it to heart. 

“Ready?!” Dad cheers, about to officially start the match. 

‘That monkey was going on about his pride earlier,” Dad talks over Shinso to start the match, but neither fighter moves to engage the other, “but I just think he’s an idiot for throwing away his chance like that.” 

I bite my lip. Shinso had said he’d try to get Izuku to talk, but this seemed over the top in some ways. Talking so negatively about Ojiro was a harsh way to get Izuku to talk and fall under his Quirk. 

Unfortunately, Izuku was taking the bait, eyes narrowing in anger. He starts walking forward, livid. I bite my lip, knowing what was about to happen. 

“Don’t you talk about him that way!” Izuku roars, slowing and appearing listless as Shinso’s Quirk takes hold. Shinso smirks as Izuku eyes gloss over. 

“That’s it. I win.” I sigh. It was just like Shinso said; he’d get his opponents under his Quirk, and then it would be over. With no one close enough to jolt Izuku out of Shinso’s control, Shinso could secure victory fairly easily. 

He might even be able to win the entire festival just using his Quirk. As long as he could get people to talk to him he’d win. 

“Aaahhh! I warned him not to say anything!” Oijiro groans, hands on his head. He was hoping he’d helped Izuku win against Shinso. 

To be honest, I’m not terribly surprised at this outcome. Shinso knows how to get people to talk, even if it is a bit harsh. 

“Hey, what’s the dealyo?!” Dad cries, “This is the first match, and it’s started with a bang! The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is completely frozen!” 

I watch as Izuku remains still, awaiting Shinso’s order to walk out of bounds. If something doesn’t change, Izuku will lose this match and be out of the tournament!

[levi-inthesun]

The Cycle of Life and Death, Chapter 3

Summary: Mia came to Tony Stark with a problem- everything she touches decays and dies, everything. She consents to being put in a cryo-sleep so that Tony can study Mia’s problem and try to find some solution that allows her to exist, well, period.

Now, she’s awake.

Pairing- (Eventual) Bucky x Mia (OC)

(gif is not mine)

The next day, Tony was at your door with a psychologist, not knowing how else to help you. James left, and she sat down after introducing herself let you know if you wanted to talk, you could, and if you didn’t want to you didn’t have to. 

You both sat quietly for a while until tears were streaming down your face. That was all you did in your first session.

In the next session, your thoughts were racing everywhere and even if you wanted to talk you wouldn’t have known where to begin. 

It was at the end of the third session that you finally said something.

“I’m a monster.”

She smiled kindly, “We can work with that.” Then posed the question, “Why do you feel you are a monster?”

It ran through your mind for the next few days. 

Why do you feel you are a monster? Because I suck the life out of everything I touch.

Why do you feel you are a monster?

Because I was turned into a killer.

Why do you feel you are a monster?

Because it runs in my veins.

Answers and justifications ran through your mind anytime you thought of the question, and eventually, memories. 

You had been walking with Loki in silence when suddenly the thoughts became too much. Loki had been helping you tap into your memories, but on the days when it became too much, you’d go for a walk with him and he would help distract you. 

Today, it wasn’t working. 

You excused yourself to try to work through the chaos in your mind.

Bucky ran into the gym when he heard screaming and cursing, he threw open the doors where he saw you letting your emotions out on the same punching bag he had touched you for the first time. 

“DAMNIT! DAMNIT DAMNIT DAMNIT!” you screamed as you threw punches at the punching bag, “FUCK ALL THIS! GO TO HELL!” Your last hit sent the bag flying off of its hinge and landing on the floor next to a wall. “AHHH!” let out as you began sinking to the floor, holding your knees to your chest, angry sobs erupted from you, shaking your form.

Bucky quickly made his way over, “Mia, it’s me, it’s Bucky, it’s going to be okay,” he said as he pulled you into his lap. 

Then he heard five words he vividly remembered crying out himself.

“I don’t want to remember…” you sobbed.

It was while he was being re-calibrated in Wakanda. As progress was made in the beginning, the terrible memories he had buried as far away as he could had begun to resurface. He had wrapped himself into a ball, grasping at his head, crying out the same words, “I don’t want to remember anymore.” 

Then Steve held him and made him feel safe. 

So he just held you as painful sobs were choked out and you buried yourself into his chest. 

Bucky held you for what had felt like hours, and from the way the sky was fading from pastel colors to darkness, you knew it had to have been. 

As your cries quieted, you focused on the sounds of him breathing, in and out, and the beating of his heart until you managed to match his breaths. You moved so that you were no longer on his lap, now sitting next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Doll, you can talk to me, if you want, you know that right?” he asked, gently brushing the hair from your face.

You nodded, “I know, and I want to, but it’s hard for me.”

He smiled softly and waited.

After taking a few deep breaths you told him about the kidnapping. The torture. The pain. You weren’t sure how long they had you, but at one point you managed to break free. Afraid to go home, you contacted your boyfriend and had him meet you in central park. 

“I will never forget the look in his eyes, James. The realization that I had killed him by my touch… it will haunt me till the day I die.”

You took another deep breath before turning to look at Bucky, looking in his eyes, finding that familiar pain and sorrow, and you knew he understood. 

“James,” you said after a moment, “I am a monster. Destruction is the only thing left behind me and anticipated before me. I don’t deserve anything Tony or even you, have done for me.” 

He stared back into your eyes, finding it hard to believe, yet easy to understand, that the woman who sat next to him felt so many painful things about herself.

“Amelia, no,” he said, barely above a whisper, “you aren’t a monster. Trust me. I was brainwashed into being a super-assassin. It took time to learn, as it will you, but you are not a monster. They controlled you. They made you do those things. It isn’t your fault.” 

You shook your head and stood up from next to him, looking him over once more, noting his flesh still hadn’t been infected before walking away. 

“Please, Mia, let’s just… we can get through this, okay?”

You wanted to turn back, to believe James when he said you weren’t a monster. Instead, you walked out of the gym and went to your room, changing out of your sticky clothing from sweating and crying, putting on a different pair of gloves and a scarf, you went out into the night. 

Bucky couldn’t sleep. With what you had said to him earlier echoing in his mind he made his way to your room and knocked quietly, but with no answer. He knocked again before cracking the door open to find your dark, empty room.

He ran to notify Steve, who let Tony know. Almost everyone was out looking for you, besides Wanda who stayed behind just in case you came back. 

It had been hours since Bucky had last seen you so Tony had FRIDAY going over security footage from the compound, surrounding traffic lights, bus stations, airport, all of it. Sam and Steve were on a lead, apparently, a man at a bar had been “flirting back and forth” with her when her eyes went black and she dared him to touch her again. 

Bucky, on the other hand, had made his way to New York City, and now, was standing in central park where you told him you had briefly met your lover before his body decayed before your eyes. 

It was a more secluded spot, which made sense as to why the man’s death hadn’t been a huge scene. He stood about where you would have been, according to your description. He then closed his eyes, centering himself, before he opened them back up to scan around him. There was a slim path behind him. He then walked wherever the path took him. After about 20 minutes, he found himself looking under a large tree next to an unmarked building. 

He could see your one of your feet outstretched from the other side of the tree and listened. He let out a sigh of relief as he heard your lungs expanding and collapsing with each breath, the steady beat of your heart. 

Not wanting to scare you, he made sure to step on some leaves that were on the ground as he walked up to you.

“Took you long enough,” you mumbled. 

Bucky let out another sigh of relief as he saw you completely. Laid out on the grass, staring up through the small canopy the tree made above you.

He sat down next to you. And surprised both of you at his words, “Where the hell have you been? What, you think you can just leave without telling anyone where you were going? That’s not how it works.” His voice stern, but filled with pain. 

You sat up and looked at him, and instead of shooting back a sassy comment, you wrapped your arms around him. 

“I’m okay,” you said in hushed tones, “I am alright. I’m here.” 

He breathed in your scent as you held him. You might have the powers of death and decay, but you smelled like life- sunshine, rain, earthy. 

You pulled back after a moment. “You should tell everyone you have me and I’m alright, that we will be back soon.”

He nodded and spoke over the comm, letting the rest of the team know exactly what you had told him.

“I’m sending the quinjet, it will be there in-”

“Just trust me, Steve, we will be back in a few hours. Don’t send the quinjet, okay?”

James then turned back to you. “What happened, Mia? Why did you run out on me?”

You stood up and reached your hand out to him to help him up. He took it even though you both knew he didn’t need it.  You began walking the way Bucky had just come.

“I was angry, I don’t respond well to anger because I’m not sure what I’m going to do. So I went to a bar, which was so stupid, of course, and let myself pretend I was normal and would just get drunk and forget about everything, except, I can’t get drunk,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Then this guy started hitting on me and wouldn’t leave me alone and eventually touched me. Luckily over my sleeve, but I then dared him to touch me again and could feel my power taking over. So then I ran from that. After wandering aimlessly, I saw a train that was heading to Central Park, and I hopped on. I realized I never made peace with his death… I never forgave myself. So I made my way back to where I last saw him, held him. I actually slept on the bench right there.”

You pointed to the bench as you both passed by it. You then let go of James’ hand and knelt down on the ground, on the spot that would forever be ingrained in your memory. You bent over and kissed the ground, offering a silent goodbye before standing up and rejoining James. 

You refused to look back, but he did and smiled widely to himself as he watched a small, dark flower begin to sprout from where your lips had touched the ground. 

Back on the train, you ended up sleeping on Bucky’s lap. He stayed awake the entire time, running his flesh fingers through your hair, and quickly sent a text to Tony before he forgot.

[officialworldofmistren]

Would You...? (Pascal x Nyraen)

A fun little Valentine’s Day excerpt from Mistren. Got three more of these to finish after this one... And Valentine’s Day is long over.

Basic Summary: Nyraen is a dark elf noble and a self-absorbed and sadistic brat. Pascal is a blind dark elf thief who grew up outside of the home country of his people. These two have a thing for each other despite homosexuality being banned in the dark elf home nation of Nesmeri. Pascal is in love and just really wishes that Nyraen weren’t brainwashed into believing that love is a weakness.

Enjoy.

---

Nyraen awoke to a tapping noise coming from his window.

A pair of pale grey eyes seemed to peer inside his dorm room, although he knew their owner couldn’t possibly be looking in. He rolled his own bright red eyes and opened the window for his visitor. “Pascal...”

The blind dark elf grinned and pecked the smaller elf’s lips playfully. “Nyraen~”

Pascal climbed through the window. He reached into his bag and produced a rectangular object with text written on it in a language Nyraen was unfamiliar with. “I brought you something I think you may like.”

Nyraen took it from Pascal and tried to decipher what it said. He ticked one long, pointed fingernail against his teeth as he tried to guess what the characters meant, but it was no use. They weren’t elvish letters, nor any he’d studied.

“It’s called chocolate, in case you were wondering. You’re meant to eat it.”

“Trying to poison me?” Nyraen scoffed. 

Pascal snickered, until he realized Nyraen wasn’t laughing. He tensed up.“You... You’re not serious, are you?”

Nyraen chuckled and assured him, “Please. I know you won’t try to kill me. You have no reason to.”

“I wouldn’t try to kill you because the very thought is abhorrent to me,” Pascal said softly. 

Nyraen popped a square of chocolate into his mouth, eyes lighting up at the sweet flavor. After a moment, he rolled his eyes again and replied, “And I suppose you’d never hurt a single dark elf within this entire city.”

“If I were forced to, then I would kill someone to save myself or my friends... Or you.”

Nyraen smirked. “If you’re trying to impress me, that’s not gonna cut it. Just about any dark elf would be willing to kill. I could go to any street corner and get someone to play assassin for me.”

“I never said I’d assassinate someone for you. I meant that if your life were in danger, or if you were being imprisoned or tortured, then I’d kill someone to save you.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armor! That’s almost storybook...” Nyraen purred. He set his treat on the nightstand, climbed onto Pascal’s lap, and wrapped his arms around the taller elf’s shoulders.

The tension left Pascal’s body as he felt Nyraen’s soft lips on his own.

They parted slowly, Pascal drawing in a deep breath to calm his racing heart. “I love you.”

They both froze...

Pascal knew that Nyraen had been raised to believe that attachments were a sign of weakness. He knew that, and yet he’d let it slip out so easily. To say “I love you” was borderline blasphemy in Nesmeri. It went against the teachings of their gods... The only ones deserving of love and devotion in the belief system of dark elves were the gods, as they were the only beings who would never betray you.

Pascal’s heart felt as if it had turned to ice in his chest. The warmth and tenderness had been replaced by fear of rejection... Fear of losing his first love.

Nyraen, meanwhile, was desperately trying to stop the warmth budding in his heart. His eyes were wide as he studied Pascal, who looked as if he’d just accidentally admitted to a horrendous crime instead of simply confessing his love. 

But then again, in Nesmeri he had committed a horrendous crime.

Quickly, Nyraen thought of a way to remedy the situation. A smug grin spread across his face as he relaxed. “Come on now. You don’t really mean that.”

Pascal took another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Nyraen... I meant it.”

Nyraen pouted and glared at Pascal, trying again to stifle the fluttering in his chest. He was glad Pascal couldn’t see the redness creeping onto his cheeks.

The small wizard whispered a spell of Telepathy and sent a quick message to a professor.

“Nyraen, what are you doing?”

“Proving a point.”

“What do you mean?!” Pascal asked frantically.

“I sent a message to one of the professors. He should be here soon,” Nyraen smirked. “So if you love me, will you stay if I ask you to, Pascal? Would you die for me? They’ll send you to the executioner’s block if they catch you.”

“And if they find a wanted criminal in your room?”

“I’ll tell them you were trying to steal something from me. I have a few gems for spell components after all.”

Nyraen climbed off of Pascal’s lap and crossed his arms smugly, knowing that surely Pascal would leave.

...The thief sat obediently on the edge of the bed. He didn’t move a muscle.

Nyraen’s smirk slowly slipped away. He pursed his lips, waiting - hoping - for Pascal to get up and make his escape.

As the professor’s torch light shined beneath the door, Nyraen quickly cast another spell and magically locked him out. “What are you doing?!” he whispered frantically to Pascal. “Get out of here! Run away!”

The professor knocked on the door and tried to push the door open.

“Go, you moron!” Nyraen said, his voice only barely above a whisper. “You’ve proven your love, okay? So please just go!”

“They’ll whip you if they think you called a professor in the middle of the night for no reason. I’m not letting you get hurt.”

The professor was practically beating the door down. “Nyraen! You open this door right now or you will be punished!”

Nyraen pulled Pascal off the bed with a strength he never knew he had. “I can take a whipping. I can’t watch you die! Please, Pascal, go!”

Finally, Pascal escaped back out through the window.

Nyraen grabbed the chocolate from the nightstand and hid it under his pillow. 

He opened the door for the professor, heart still hammering from fear, and innocently asked, “What is it, professor?”

“Your message,” the professor growled.

“I don’t recall sending a message... Are you sure it wasn’t another student?”

The professor grabbed his arm roughly, sneering at the lie. “I should hope you remember the punishment for wasting my ti-”

A tap at the window caught both of their attention.

“What is that?”

Nyraen shrugged. “I have no idea, sir.”

Another tap.

The professor released him to check the window. Nyraen took a deep, shaky breath.

The window opened, and in a blur of movement, Pascal had his professor pinned against the wall with a dagger at his throat. Nyraen gasped, somehow still shocked by Pascal’s speed, though he’d seen the rogue in fights several times already. “Am I to presume that you are the reason for the scars on my Nyraen’s back?”

“Nyraen, you little bastard! What is the meaning of this?!”

Nyraen only stared, jaw hanging open at Pascal’s boldness.

Pascal’s dagger cut ever-so-slightly into his professor’s throat. “You would insult him in my presence? Bold. Incredibly stupid as well, but bold.”

“Pascal...”

“You conspire with a rogue? A blind, thieving rogue?! And against a master wizard?!” The professor cried furiously.

Nyraen shut the door behind him, fearing the academy’s soundproof walls wouldn’t be enough to keep this situation private if it were left open. And he knew exactly where this situation had to go if Pascal didn’t want the both of them getting executed.

“Well, Pascal, you know you have to kill him now. He knows too much.”

“Not if you leave Nesmeri with me...”

“I’m not leaving, Pascal. Kill him and be done with it.”

Pascal sighed, and lifted the professor almost effortlessly. (Pascal was tall for a dark elf at five-foot-eleven, and was thus quite a bit stronger than the diminutive five-foot-four professor. Not to mention that wizards typically aren’t capable of physically overpowering an opponent at close range.) He threw the professor out the window, ignoring the curses, protests, and struggling.

“Why didn’t you just stab him?”

“Because this way they’ll conclude that he fell. His room is right above yours, isn’t it?”

Nyraen nodded. As a noble, there was really no way that he’d be blamed for the professor’s death, unless he was found in his room. Murders committed by nobles tended to be overlooked in Nesmeri... But he knew that Pascal was raised outside of Nesmeri, and may not know that particular fact.

“At least there’s one less person giving you whippings.”

Nyraen shrugged. “Mother-” he paused, quickly correcting himself. A household Matron or Patron must always be addressed as such. “Matron Maleira will still give out punishments when I return home.”

Pascal growled, muttering Maleira’s name almost as a curse rather than a name.

Nyraen reached up a hand to caress Pascal’s cheek tenderly. “You surprised me.”

Pascal leaned down to kiss Nyraen. 

They kissed passionately, but Nyraen pushed Pascal away when it started to become too heated. “You need to go. I don’t want to be awake if someone finds his body before morning.”

“Right,” Pascal nodded. 

As he left, he heard Nyraen say teasingly, “Goodbye, my handsome knight.”

He snickered. “Sleep well, my spoiled prince.”

[claraxbarton]

About Today

Just a quick little fic for @ussfriendship, who is a lovely person and I hope this helps a little after the shitty few weeks and shit day. You’re incredible.

--

The thing is, Clint is fine.

He is.

Really.

All things considered, yeah, sure, he’s a little fucked up.

But who wouldn’t be?

He’d helped an alien god invade Earth and been responsible for thousands of deaths and billions of dollars in property damage.

He’d had his fucking mind controlled by a shiny rock thing.

He’d fought robots on a flying city.

He’d found out that his decade long career of being a white hat was actually a decade of him being an agent for HYDRA.

And that was just the shit from the last three years.

So, no, he wasn’t, like… sleeping through the night, any night. And maybe every time he saw a flash of blue light - and in NYC, that was pretty fucking often - he got tense and had to work real damn hard to regulate his breathing. And maybe he still had… what had Bobbi called it? An overwhelming self-hatred and need to self-sabotage every good moment of his life. Or something like that.

But he was fine.

One-hundred percent dealing with shit. Or at least avoiding it.

Until James “Bucky” Fucking Barnes came into the picture.

Sure, Clint was happy that Cap had his long lost best friend back. Who wouldn’t be?

And yeah, of course Clint was happy there was another member of the former brainwashed assassins club.  Maybe not happy, that made it sound like he was glad Barnes had been tortured for seven decades. Or however long he’d been out of the Cryotube in that time. Relieved? Something. Clint felt something about the fact that there was no more Winter Soldier.

Except, of course, there was still a -the? - Winter Soldier.

Cap brought Bucky home like he’d adopted a puppy from the pound, stood there fucking grinning while Wanda checked him over and confirmed that yeah, whatever science the Wakandas had done, had removed the triggers from Bucky’s head. He put one massive, patriotic hand on Bucky’s shoulder and said that they were both ready to join/rejoin the Avengers.

And then Cap had turned to Tony, and they’d both cried, and they’d hugged, and everyone had looked away, and of course Clint had had the bad luck to find himself looking at fucking Bucky.

He knew about the Winter Soldier - as a budding assassin he’d worshipped the myth of the man who left no trace of himself and made impossible shots. As Natasha’s partner years later, he’d been at her bedside when she woke up from surgery after the Odessa clusterfuck. He’d listened to her talk about being trained by him as a child and an adolescent, had listened to her fight back tears and her anger and her fears.

And he’d seen the footage of the clusterfuck in D.C.

So he knew what Bucky looked like. Knew what the Bucky of 1945 had looked like, knew what the Bucky of 2014 looked like.

And he looked, quite fucking unfairly, good.

With the eyes and the hair and the jaw and the goddamn eye crinkles.

And then Bucky went and fucking smirked at Clint, while Cap cried on Tony’s shoulder and everyone else stared off into space and wondered how the fuck things had come to this, Bucky fucking smirked at him.

So, yeah.

Clint had been fucking fine. Until Bucky.

And his damn smirks.

He was everywhere.

In the gym. Smirking at Clint.

On the range. Smirking at Clint.

In the med bay. Smirking at Clint.

On the Quinjet. Smirking at Clint.

Shooting sentient slug monsters. Smirking at Clint.

Dancing with Nat at Tony’s wedding. Smirking at Clint.

So Clint did what he did best, and he avoided the shit out of why it bothered Clint so much when Bucky smirked at him.

He started avoiding the gym.

He started avoiding the range.

He… failed to avoid the med bay.

He told Cap to put him on a different mission rotation.

So no more smirking on the Quinjet.

No more smirking while shooting sentient slug monsters.

And it wasn’t like anyone else on the team was getting married anytime soon, so no more...smirking while dancing in a fitted tuxedo and looking like a goddamn matinee idol from the last century.

Clint was so good at avoiding the smirking that it was six months before he realized how fucking miserable he was.

And he only realized it then, because he was at a dive bar in Brooklyn, watching a Yankees game on the miniscule television screen above the bar, drinking a shitty local beer that was hoppy as all hell, and a guy sat down next to him and started to flirt with him.

Clint got it. He did.

He was an Avenger. He was a fit guy. He wasn’t ugly. He was, by a lot of people’s standards, decently attractive. But that was only because people didn’t know he was an absolute fucking mess. Like, nuclear waste-site levels of radioactive mess.

So a guy sat down beside Clint, offered to buy him another shitty beer, gave him a look that was pretty much a leer and said he wanted to thank his favorite Avenger.

Clint did what he did best.

He finished off his current shitty beer, and turned to look the guy full on.

The guy had the eyes and the hair and the jaw and they were almost what Clint wanted.

“Am I your favorite Avenger because I’m the one who almost got New York nuked by the World Security Council or because I’m the only one you figure you’ve got a chance of nailing?

And the thing about Clint?

He never missed.

So the guy was scrambling awkwardly away and leaving Clint alone before Clint even realized there was someone standing behind him.

Someone who did have the eyes and the hair and the jaw and the goddamn eye crinkles.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It wasn’t, probably, the most eloquent greeting ever, but Clint wasn’t much of a poet.

Bucky just fucking smirked and sat down on the seat so recently and rapidly vacated by the last guy.

He raised a finger to get the bartender’s attention, signalled at Clint’s bottle and held up two fingers and Clint had to grimace when two more shitty beers were deposited on the counter.

Bucky’s smirk slid into his own grimace as he took a sip of his beer.

“This tastes like shit.”

“Welcome to the future. Where every goddamn corner of Brooklyn has a brewery and every hipster thinks all you need to make beer is hops. All the fucking hops.”

Bucky set down his beer bottle and turned towards Clint.

And Clint realized, all of a sudden and way too late, just how close Bucky was to him.

Close enough for their knees to touch.

Close enough for Clint to see the scar along the right side of Bucky’s jaw that Nat had apparently given him when she was thirteen and Bucky had been training her in the Red Room. Close enough to see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes.

“So, if I told you that you were my favorite Avenger, would you try to scare me off too?” Bucky asked with another smirk.

Clint stared at him.

Bucky kept smirking.

“Oh, fuck off,” Clint growled. Because it was one thing for random assholes to make the mistake of being attracted to Clint. It was entirely another for a teammate, for the object of Clint’s unacknowledged desires, to sit there and taunt him.

“Not scary enough. I was tortured by HYDRA for decades,” Bucky muttered. “You really want to get rid of me, you’re gonna have to put some effort into it.”

Clint glared.

Bucky kept fucking smirking.

“What the fuck is your deal?” Clint finally asked, knowing he sounded whiny. Because he was whining.

Bucky lifted his eyebrows.

“With the -” Clint gestured at Bucky, then at himself. “What the fuck?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re asking me,” Bucky said, and he sounded amused.

Which, fine. Clint had had people laugh at him before.

It was fine.

Clint was fine.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Bucky asked, smoothing his metal thumb over the label of his shitty beer.

“Knock yourself out,” Clint sighed.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me for the last six months?”

Clint could deny. He could claim that he hadn’t been avoiding Bucky.

But he had been. And they both knew it.

“Because,” he grumbled.

“Ah. Gotcha.” Bucky was back to fucking smirking. “Same, pal.”

Clint rolled his eyes and -

And fuck it.

Fuck. It.

He glared at Bucky until the smirk slipped away.

“I was fine until you showed up here,” Clint said. Hissed, really. “I was managing shit, okay? And then you - you just - walk around smirking and you make me want all of these fucking things that I don’t get to have. You just - you can’t just - I have to avoid you, you asshole.”

Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together as he frowned, full lips curving down.

But then his expression smoothed and he reached over with both hands, metal and flesh, and framed Clint’s face between his palms.

“Sweetheart, you get to have whatever you want. Anyone who says different is a stupid asshole. And if you,” Bucky paused, drew in an unsteady breath and licked his lower lip, “if you want me, hell, if you want anything to do with me, then I’m yours.”

Clint doesn’t know what to do. What to say. What to fucking feel.

Because Bucky is looking at him like Clint is someone he wants, like Clint is someone who matters. Like Clint is someone worth having.

Bucky smoothes his metal thumb over Clint’s cheek.

“Say something. Or punch me, if you want,” Bucky tacked on when Clint still remained frozen.

“Pizza.”

Bucky’s face moved through a riot of expressions - confusion, annoyance, concern, sadness - before smoothing back out into what Clint considered was his mission ready smirk.

“We should get some. Pizza.” Clint realized he needed to say more words.

Bucky’s face relaxed.

“Yeah. We should. Pizza.”

Bucky let him go, and Clint immediately wished they could just sit there with Bucky’s hands on his face all night.

Clint dug into his pocket, paid for their drinks, and then stepped away from the bar.

Bucky held out his right hand.

Clint stared at Bucky, then at his hand.

Bucky smirked at him.

Clint slipped his hand into Bucky’s.

And it was fine.

He was fine.

He was so much fucking more than fine.

[kandadiff]

Price of Freedom (3)

-

“Alright Kay” Shawn sighed annoyed at the situation he was in. Earlier while he had you in the room, the reunion he had planned in his head for nearly a year didn’t pan out the way he wanted it to. You hadn’t get go of the fact here he was with Camila when he had stated ‘I came for you.’ He had thought - hoped- that as soon as you saw him all the good memories you had of him would wash away the near year absence you took from him when you left the states. But truth be told you were scared of GD’s reaction and pissed at Shawn for thinking everything could just go back to normal when he obviously had a whole girlfriend who he brought with him. He was trying to explain himself when Camila rushed to get them now he was pissed that I was backing out. He knew you’d never leave Korea without me and he didn’t want to take you by force yet. “Kay for fucks sake you’re being so goddamn dramatic.”

“Watch your fucking mouth” Negan warned him kneeling down to take my face in his hands. “Princess, I swear nothing is going to happen to you. I understand you are terrified but we’re going to be back home soon-”

“Back home where the cops are after me?”

Negan blinked back in surprise; unsure where I got the notion he couldn’t handle that. “Everyones got a fucking price, I’ll pay theirs.”

I shook my head “You don’t understand, even if we do leave Korea, he’ll follow us and then the cops will get us. I don’t want to give birth in prison. And if we don’t leave, your in Korea, your in there territory. They know this place better then I know myself. They’ll landlock us and find us from here.” Negan looked around us then back at me. 

“Whos putting this shit in your head?”i didn’t say anything but Camila gave the slightest smirk that no one caught. Shawn however was growing more and more frustrated. 

“My god, what the hell did they do to you? It made you such a pussy! They even fucking branded you!” He points out the swinging pendant of the Dragon Necklace then shoots his finger at yours, it was a more jeweled out design but the necklaces said one thing to those around Seoul. ‘Proudly Belonging to Red Dragon.’ “They brainwashed both of you!” He was now yelling at you and you swung your fist at his chest which did very little to move him. “He ruined you!” He shouts at you “He made you into -”

“Shawn get the fuck out of the room.” Simon grunts as a warning, he can see Negans fists are balled up tight. Shawns outburst only made the hyperventilating worse and Negan was not having it. 

“Maybe you should” Camila put her hands on his shoulder and Shawn jerked away from her grasp grabbing you rarm and roughly pulling you out of the living room into the bathroom. 

“Listen!” He shouted at you as you tried to get away from his grasp. He shoved you into the wall and locked the bathroom door. “Why? WHY ARE YOU CHOOSEING HIM?! WHY?!” He shouted at you grabbing your shoulders giving you a slight shake. His eyes showed he was hurt but the anger in his voice only served to feed your own rage. 

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He completely ignored your outburst and continued in your rant. “I CAME ALL THE WAY TO KOREA TO COME AND SAVE YOU AND YOUR OVER HERE LIVING THE FUCKING LIFE WITH THAT TWO INCH PSYCHOPATH!”

“YOU DIDN’T COME TO SAVE ME!” you screamed right back at him “YOU CAME HERE TO GET ME BACK! YOU CAME HERE BECAUSE YOUR SO OBESSED WITH REPEATING THE PAST! WE CANT! YOU CHOSE ANOTHER WOMAN OVER ME!”

“YOU KNOW THAT WAS A GODDAMN MISTAKE!”

“BUT YOU MADE IT! AND NOW YOU HAVE TO FACE THE EFFECTS OF YOUR CHOICES! THATS REALITY SHAWN!” He glared at you searching your eyes for some emotion he wasn’t going to see then his eyes focused on the glinting jewel that seemed to be mocking him every time the light hit it. He raised his hand and for a moment you thought he was going to strike you. You flinched back as he grabbed the dragon. 

“You really think id hit you? or are you so used to being kicked around by that asshole that you think all men are like that?” you were about to defend G when Shawn started roughly and violently tugging on your necklace. 

“STOP!” You grasped the chain in your own hand feeling the metal start to bit into the back of your neck as it held together trying to prevent breakage. 

“He’s brainwashed you Adi” Shawn said his voice low and eerily calm, his eyes were hyper focused on the dragon in his grasp as he yanked at the chain again and you cried out trying to stop it from breaking. “I’m going to fix you again” he said sounding more like his uncle then himself. “Don’t worry anymore.”

“STOP!” you yanked your head back but he was stronger - a lot stronger then you were. The Chain made a harsh snapping sound as it broke cutting into the back of your neck just a bit until superficial drops of blood came from the small cuts. you reached for the necklace but he was a foot taller then you and 20x stronger. He tossed the piece into the toilet grabbing your wrist before you could grab it out. You screamed as he flushed the toilet and the half a million dollar pendant swirled in a whirlpool down the drain. 

“You should be thanking me.”

-

“Wait-” Hobi shook his head staring down at the screen where a one pink dot started moving fairly quickly while the blue dot stayed put on the map. His arm wrapped from the bullet wound he sustained and still hooked up to an IV he was told to stay home and work on the computers - it was what he was best at. He sat infront of the screens linked to both GD and TOP’s phone changing the color of the dots to properly see exactly where I was (the blue one) and where you (the pink one) were going. He held the phone to his lips telling Bom to focus on the blue dot while he tried to study yours “Adi is moving.”

“What?” Jb asked over the phone. Anyone who was well enough to be out was in some big black truck with an army supply of assult weapons ready to fight. and it was a pissed off JB that was driving one of the cars nearly to the house on the outskirts of Seoul. “Where is she headed?”

“I don’t know” Hobi typed quickly on the computer trying to map where the tracker said you were going. “But shes headed south toward... Busan? Shes going to Busan pretty quickly.”

“Why the fuck would she be going there? Does she even know anyone in Busan?” He looked around the car and everyone shrugged. 

“Shes friendly maybe she actually has a friend out there.” Bam Bam suggested and it was Bom who spoke up from next to Hobi.

“Bobby and her were pretty close, he had a house out there before he went to America.”

Jb cursed under his breath and Hobi sighed “Shes moving pretty quickly, its possible shes in a car.”

“Fuck” JB cursed again and looked through the rearview mirror to V “Get Namjoon on the phone tell him i’m taking B.I and Minzy’s cars with me to find her.” V nodded quickly telling Namjoon what was going on before the boy just decided to put him on the conference call along with TOP and GD.

“Where’s she?” GD asked as soon as he answered the phone.

“Going to Busan.” JB annoyed voice came over the phone.

“What the fuck?” Gd was as confused as everyone nad Bom explained the fact Bobby had a house over there “Thanks my babygirl luring them to a safe house so daddys gang can slaughter every last one of them.” JB sighed at the nickname GD just gave himself.  “Wheres Kalyn?”

“Shes still at the house.” Hoseok said checking the blue dot. It was moving but the space where it was moving was so minimal that he knew I was still in the house. 

“They might be separating them to make it harder for us” Namjoon said his voice oddly calm which meant he was focused and that was dangerous. “But we’re almost at the house.”

“Don't underestimate that old motherfucker.” TOP’s voice was chilling and it served as a warning. He meant ‘Don’t be stupid I expect them to be taking care of and I expect the girls back in one piece’. “We’ll be home soon.” GD and TOP both disconnteced from the call leaving Namjoon, Hobi and JB. 

“Are you sure you don’t need Minzy or B.I’s team?” JB asked again knowing if Namjoon said no it meant he was already hatching a plan of his own. “We have other help if you need it.”

“I know about the other help” he said and paused for a moment before saying “No, I’ll call you when we get her.”

-

I knew Negan was growing impatient and probably hurt at my true words whether or not he wanted to admit that my words did have truth to them. He was underestimating the Red Dragons in there territory. “Kay” he said a little harshly I flinched back at his words and her ran his hand over his face turning toward Simon then back at me. “Princess why don’t you go up to the room and eat something? You must be starving.”

“I’m not hungry.” His words weren’t a question it was him telling me to go upstairs and leave him to figure things out. But I didn’t want to be alone, you were off arguing with Shawn about something in the bathroom and Camila was pretending not to listen while Negan’s men roamed over the house trying to pretended they weren’t badmouthing me - Negans brave princess turned into a sniveling crybaby - or eavesdropping as well. 

“Kid,” Simon said giving me sympathetic eyes “Come on, Ill take up your favorite. You know I found blueberry pancakes especially for you.” I knew they weren’t going to talk with me there so I sucked in my breath and Negan helped me stand up and up the stairs I went. 

I sat on the chair that Camila was at just looking out the window, we lost a day. The sun had long gone down and it was so easy to strike at night. If they were done destroying planes and boats they would be turning inland now. God why was I so stupid? I should have known Negan was in over his head in a place hes never been too. I rested my head looking out the window sill listening to the noises downstairs - the soft patter of footsteps, the low muffled mumbling of Negan’s men talking and the slamming of doors. I narrowed my eyes searching the dark of outside curing the place negan chose to hide had no streetlights, so besides the light from the house it was pitch dark outside. I swore I heard the crushing of gravel under tires. It was quiet nearly drowned out by the noises of the house. But I know I heard it. 

“Hello!” I shouted out of the window but was met with silence then a shadow of something moving toward the house. The shadow was small and could have been a stray animal moving toward the heat of the house as the chill settled into the night but that didn’t stop from my heart beat from quickening. I saw another and moved nack toward the nightstand trying to find a flashlight or something to see what it was but as soon as I started searching the lights started flickering and the house went black. 

“Is that a fucking blackout?!” Someone shouted from downstairs. 

They were here.

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Words On My Skin (Part 12)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback (even if the last part shocked a lot of you)! I love comments, replies, asks, messages, etc. They make me want to write so much more! I posted this early, since I’m going up north this weekend! (I go every weekend, basically. LOL)

Warnings: Unedited and angsty.

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

 Tears streamed down your face, dripping off your nose while you scrubbed. The smell of green apple dish soap permeated the air as you furiously scrubbed the – already clean – shelf of the fridge that you’d ripped out. The food was in large coolers, so they wouldn’t go bad while you stress cleaned the entire kitchen.

Your hands trembled, stress causing your heart to race and heat your face. You quickly rinsed off the suds to lay the shelf on the drying rack, thoughts in hyperdrive. You grabbed the second shelf, shoving your hands in the scalding water to wet your scrubber and harshly scrub at a small spot where some yogurt had leaked out onto the glass. The pressure of your grip nearly snapped the glass shelf as the memories of what had just happened replayed over and over in your head.

After Bucky had stormed from the kitchen, leaving you with your mother, while you stared at where he’d rounded the corner.

Oh… god.

“I cannot believe the nerve of that man!” Your mother huffed out incredulously, breaking you from your despair. Replacing it with anger. “He should’ve never been allowed back into society. I knew he’d be nothing but trouble when he was allowed to join this team. He’s nothing but a menace.”

You stopped, ears ringing while your jaw tensed hard enough to hear a small pop. “What?” Your voice was laced with venom as you whipped around, fists clenched in fury. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“Excuse me? Watch your tone with me.” She snapped, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. “That man yelled at your mother, and you didn’t even defend me. You just watched, whining like a toddler, while he got in my face.”

Is she for real? Is she fucking delusional?

“While he… Are you kidding me? You got in his face and accused him of domestic violence!��� You cried, voice cracking at the end. “He’s been nothing but kind to me! He’s the kindest, gentlest, and most caring person I’ve ever met in my life!”

“He has you brainwashed, darling.” She scoffed, shaking her head. Her face was soft with condescending sweetness. “You’re too naive. I knew I should’ve raised you to be more like me.”

“Thank fucking god you didn’t!” You scrubbed at your face with your hands, trying to remove all traces of tears. “You’ve done nothing but beat me down, force me on a path I didn’t want, ruin any relationship I ever had, force me into a diet I didn’t want… I never want to be like you.” You couldn’t even think. You wanted to give her a list of all the awful things she’d ever done to you, but your mind was reeling so bad that you couldn’t even comprehend what you wanted to say to her. “I had to be in fucking therapy because of how you raised me!”

“Oh, here we go!” She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, face flushing with anger. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? God, darling, you’re so dramatic. I raised you a million times better than I was raised. You think you had it bad? I don’t ever remember you complaining when I was giving you money, a home, and proper schooling. You’re so ungrateful! I’ve done nothing but teach you-”

“Teach me?” You screamed, taking a step towards her. You’d finally snapped. Holy shit. You’d never spoken to your mother like that, before. “I knew nothing when I left! I had no money, no place to live, no knowledge of the real world… I couldn’t even fucking support myself! You made me dependent on you!” You felt the tears welling up, again, as twenty six years of anger finally bubbled over the metaphorical pot. “You were so concerned about having the perfect daughter, that you made me hate you! I fucking hate you!”

You took a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Bucky is one of the best things to ever happen to me, and you fucked it up. You had to know that there was a reason I didn’t tell you I’d met my soulmate. It’s because I knew. I fucking knew! I knew you’d ruin it, just like you ruined me!”

“You-”

“No! You’re going to shut the fuck up and let me fucking speak, now.” You cut her off, taking another step forward and pointing a finger at her. You could still feel Bucky’s residual hurt and anger, powering your own. “He’s my soulmate. He’s always going to be my soulmate, and you hurt him. I won’t fucking stand for that. You can terrorize me with your condescending tone and rude comments, but I will not let you accuse my soulmate - the man that I fucking love - of abuse!”

You watched her eyebrows raise, but you continued on. “He has tried so hard to become a better man and fight the soldier in himself. I’ve seen people stare at him, judge him, call him names… But you know what I’ve seen him do? I’ve seen him talk to children, I’ve seen him hold doors for people, donate to charities, give his food to homeless people, fight for peace… I’ve seen him do more of an effort to be good than any other human being on the planet. You think I deserve better? Well, you’re wrong. He deserves better. He has always deserved better than he got.”

She closed her eyes, pinching her nose in frustration. “I’m trying to protect you. You don’t see-”

“No, mother. You don’t see.” The tears spilled over, again. Leaving trails down your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat. “You aren’t protecting me. You’re protecting your image. Just as you’ve always done. Even if it pushed me away.”

“I’ve done everything for you.” She sighed, removing her hand from her face and standing straighter, “You’ll never understand how much I’ve done for you. I am the way I am to make you better than I could ever be.”

“I don’t want you to make me better.” You wiped under your face, pain starting to numb you. “I want you to be my mom.”

She shook her head, turning to grab her purse from the table, a long exhale from her nose being the only noise in the kitchen. After a moment, she replied: “I’ll see myself out.”

“Mom.” You sagged in defeat, sliding down to the floor and leaning your back against the kitchen island. “Mom, please.”

She ignored you, heels clicking against the hard floors as she made her way around the corner – where Bucky had taken his exit minutes prior.

Fuck…

After sitting on the floor for a few moments, the stupid kettle started screaming, and sent you into ‘clean the kitchen from top to bottom’ mode.

Your life might be a mess… but at least the kitchen wouldn’t be.

You finished scrubbing the stupid shelf, attempting to transfer it to the other basin of the sink where you were rinsing, but the damn thing slipped from your fingers. A number of expletives flew from your mouth, loudly, as it fell to the tiled floor – crashing upon impact. The shards spread like droplets of water in a splash, tinkling against the stupid floor and looking impossible to clean up.

Big pieces first, then use a piece of bread to get the small shards.

You bent down, trembling hand moving too fast as you went to pick up the largest shard.

“Motherfucker.” You hissed, a sharp sting starting from the palm of your hand and radiating up your arm. “Fuck me.” You – stupidly – brought your hand up to cradle near your chest, staining your tee shirt with blood.

You slid to the floor, slipper-clad feet scraping the glass away as you fall to the tiled floor. A sob escaped before you could control yourself. Your breath came out in short gasps, as you drew your knees to your chest and cradled your hand between your thighs and chest.

Fuck… was this a breakdown?

Why the hell were you so upset? Bucky was the one who deserved to be upset. Your mother was the one who had insulted him, called him a monster, and completely rejected him… You could still feel him through the bond. Do you really want him to feel you through the bond? You need to calm the hell down.

You started working on your breathing, trying to count your inhales and exhales like you usually did. Inhale for five seconds through your nose, and out through your mouth for five seconds. Slowly. Your palm was throbbing in pain, so you decided to focus on that while steadying your breathing.

You heard the water shut off in the sink, and footsteps crunching through the glass slowly.

You ignored whoever was there, continuing your breathing and pressing your thumb against the small slash in your palm. You heard a small huff, as the person attempts to slowly lower themselves down next to you and sit.

“‘Being above the threshold of perception of a stimulus.’”

Tony?

“What?” You croaked, lifting your head slightly to wipe your face with the neck of your tee shirt. “Tony?”

“That’s my next vocab word.” He shrugged, crisscrossing his legs while avoiding glass. He held out a dark red handkerchief with a monogram of his initials in the corner. “Want to help a guy out?”

“Oh…” You take the cloth with a trembling, bloody hand. You pressed it to your hand with a sharp hiss, closing your eyes until the sting lessened. “Supraliminal.”

“Subliminal?”

“No,” You shook your head, leaning your head back against the counter. “That’s when you’re not aware of something affecting your brain. Like coloring in a movie. You don’t realize the impact of dark colors affecting your mood during a sad scene.” You sniffed, feeling much calmer than you did minutes before. “It’s unconscious.”

“Oh… makes sense.” He nodded, typing on his watch for a moment.

“Why are you on the floor?” You asked, eyebrows pulling together. “There’s glass.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I dropped the stupid fucking shelf from the fridge while washing it.”

He snorted, flicking a small piece of glass of his leather shoe. “Well, Natasha told me she heard the argument from the living room.” He gestured to the hall on the other side of the kitchen, “She heard the meltdown, too. She came to get me when she saw you sobbing over the sink.” He grabbed your injured hand to assess it, removing the small cloth. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” You lied, looking down to where his fingers were prodding at your cut. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard come from your mouth.”

“I technically work for you guys.” You sighed, shaking your head and leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. “This is completely unprofessional.”

“You also live here.” He pointed out, not looking up at you but wrapping your hand back up with the blood-stained cloth. “Plus… I’d like to think we’re all friends. You’re a huge part of our team. You kind of made us dependent on you. You’re too good at your job.”

“Bucky said that, too.” You chuckled, the feeling of anger dissipating the longer you talked to him. “He told me that I could come to you guys with anything. That you guys would be there for me, just like I’m there for you.”

“I hate to agree with him, but I agree with him.” Tony replied, letting your hand go. “You don’t have to be worried about talking to us.” He suddenly snorted, turning to you with a small smile. “Never thought I’d be telling somebody with a bachelor’s in counseling to talk to somebody.”

“I’ve developed the bad habit of wanting to help other people face their issues, versus facing my own.” You sighed, chewing on your lip for a moment. “It’s pretty common, actually.”

“I would know.” He mimicked your position, head back against the cupboards and fingers tapping on his knees to a random rhythm. “I do it all the time.” He turned, looking at you closely, “Do you want to talk about your nightmares?”

“How do you-”

“Oh, please.” He waved you off, rolling his eyes. “We all have nightmares. We know the signs.” He bit his lip for a moment, thinking hard for a moment before continuing. “Did you know that, before my house was destroyed in L.A, I had a nightmare so vivid that one of my suits tried to attack Pepper?” He let out a long exhale, ceasing his tapping. “I wasn’t talking to anybody about my nightmares. I wasn’t letting anybody help me, even though everyone knew I needed it.”

“Accepting the fact that you need the help is the hardest part.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, headache coming on from all the previous crying. Just… tell him. He understands. “They started after the attack.”

He nodded, waiting for you to continue.

So, you did. You told him about the nightmares, and about your meltdown in the gun range. You told him about how the monster in your dream changed to the face of your father. The change had scared you, because you never hated your father. Not like your mother… You told him about how your father just… stopped being there for you. How he stopped acting like a dad, and more as a person who was just… there.

He talked about his relationship with his parents, as well, and how he reacted when his parents had died in the car accident. You knew a little about what really happened, from what Bucky had admitted once you had both started opening up to each other, but you never heard Tony talk about his parents. Ever. He would make silly little jokes – or jabs about his father’s personality – but he never actually talked about them.

It made you realize that you both had more in common than you’d initially thought.

You’d both had rough childhoods.

When you recapped the fight, you watched as Tony’s face shifted from empathetic to stony.

“She thinks he’s abusing you?” He finally asked, after you finished talking, butt starting to hurt from sitting on the hard floor, “I’ll admit that Bucky and I have our… problems… but I don’t believe that he would ever intentionally hurt you. Ever. I think that man would rather me blow off both of his arms, than ever see you hurt.” He shook his head in disappointment, exhaling slowly through his nose. “You weren’t here before, so you wouldn’t know, but he’s changed. A lot.”

“I don’t doubt that.” You agreed, hurt still lingering through the bond as you traced the intricate lettering of your tattoo. “Though he hasn’t told me everything… He’s told me about how he was after you guys found him. He told me how closed-off he was, and he blames himself for a lot of the shit that has happened.”

“It was a big fight.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Those were complicated times. The government was trying to pass The Accords, Steve found him in Bucharest, everyone was gunning for arrests and trying to take control… it was a lot of high emotions for every party involved.”

“I’m just happy that it’s all in the past and everyone was able to come to an agreement.” Your lips lifted into a small smile, “Though… it makes paperwork a bitch.”

“Why do you think we hired an assistant?” He snorted, tapping away on the screen of his watch. “We hate paperwork.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Well,” He grunted, starting to stand from the floor, “I need to get off this hard floor. My back is killing me. We should’ve had this little pow-wow in the living room, so we could sit comfortably.”

You grasped his hands as he pulled you off the floor, your back cracking in response, “I agree… though, I didn’t exactly know that I was going to be on the floor for-” You looked down at your watch, eyebrows raising in shock, “Three hours.”

“Time flies when you’re having a heart to heart.”

“Don’t I know it.” You groaned, hips screaming in protest as you stretched out. You glanced at the floor, grimacing at all the shards of glass littering the tiles. “I have to clean this up.”

“Go clean yourself up.” He gestured to your hand, which had stopped bleeding but was covered in crusted blood. “I’ll call the cleaners to fix this up and order a new shelf for the fridge.”

“Are you sure? I can do that.” You insisted, stepping away from the glass to go find a broom. “I made the mess.”

“What happened to letting people help you?”

Fuck. He was right.

“Thank you, Tony.” You smiled, clean hand grasping his forearm in thanks. “I feel a lot better.”

“No problem, kid.” He patted your hand, before tapping away on his watch, again, and heading towards the elevator. “Now, go talk to your soulmate.”

God, you needed to see him.

Part 13

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DON’T FORGET: Sunday is the last day to submit your masterlist/fic for my 2K Follower Celebration! 

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about: for my 2K follower celebration, I am celebrating you guys! So send me your masterlist and/or fics via message or ask, and I will add them to the list! Also, read them! 

If you’re an avid reader, like me, you can submit your favorite fics to me, too! Anything to help other writers!

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[official-mr-saxobeat]

N e way it has been 728 days since I last saw/had any communication from my older brother (and longer for my little brother, but I don't know the exact date bc I wasn't fucking PAYING ATTENTION.)

And you know what? I remember the day. 7-14-17. He told me he'd text me the next day and see me the next week. You wanna know how many times he's contacted me? Zero. He's also blocked me. All because his fucking CUNT parents (can you say: DIS-GUS-TENG) decided for some fucking UNKNOWN reason that our mom, sister, and I needed to be cut off completely. Literal family, disowned with absolutely no explanation. He and I were closer than ANYONE and ALWAYS told each other we were more important than anyone else to each other. He has had so, so many opportunities to contact me. Literally just sending a fucking letter could've worked. Just, "Hey, it's Tyler. Simon and I are ok. We miss you a ton. Don't send anything back." But would you guess what? Nope. Nothing. One of his friends said that he misses me, and is apparently going to text me once he's 18. But a mutual friend of ours (who's closer to him than the other one) said more recently that he hates me now! Neat. Great. Good. Wonderful. Our sister lived in a much, MUCH more dangerous house than his, and yet wouldn't you know it! She has contacted me every single time she's had the opportunity, and risked a lot for it too. Even if she couldn't carry on a conversation, she'd let me know that she was at least safe or ok. And wow! Now that she has a phone again, she texts me all the time! Almost like...if you put in the effort to contact someone you care about, you absolutely can! She's planning to drive down and visit me! (If you're reading this Pauline I love you SO HECKING MUCH HOE ASS HOE!!!!)

I even believe that our little brother would have contacted me if he knew how. He was fucking six the last time I saw him. He's turning nine this August. Of COURSE he can't contact me, he doesn't have a phone or know my address to send a letter.

Anyway. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again. Lots of people have told me to just give up.

....

Don't they get it...? I can't ever give up. He was my everything. Absolutely everything to me. He was there, always, no matter what.

He has no idea how many times I've cried, sobbed myself to sleep over losing him. He has no idea how much sleep I've lost over him, whether it be from nightmares where he finds me and tells me he hates me and hopes I kill myself, or from not being able to sleep because I had an unexplainable feeling that he might, just maybe, come see me, and I didn't want to go to sleep for fear of not hearing a knock or the doorbell. I'd already gone through that with our sister. He has no idea how many times I've come so, so close to just texting him, telling him how much I miss him, telling him I've changed, how much I wish he'd come back. How much I wish I could just hear his voice. See his face. Hear his laugh.

I don't know what I did. I have absolutely no clue. Neither does Pauline. Or our mom. Not an inkling. I found a letter the other day from them when I was going through boxes. A birthday card. There were long messages from both of them (the cunts) inside, telling me how much they loved me, how proud they were of me and the young man I was growing into, how much they loved having me as a part of their family, etc, etc. Who knew that in less than a year and a half from then, they'd be telling me I shouldn't ever ask about going on a family trip to the beach. But not for the same reason it used to be. It used to be, "Don't ever ask if you can come with us on a family trip, you're OBVIOUSLY coming! Why wouldn't you? You are family, after all!"

Then it was, "You're so selfish. Don't EVER ask something like that. Why would you think you could just invite yourself on a trip with us? How DARE you be so disrespectful!? You should be ashamed of yourself."

I hadn't even asked to go. I had been on every single beach trip EVER with them. They were family, after all. Tyler told me they were going to Santa Monica and asked if I was coming. I said no. I hadn't even known anything about it. So I texted CUNT BITCH (CB) and she didn't respond. All I said was, "Hey, Tyler told me you're going on a beach trip on Monday and Tuesday, did you forget to invite me or should I just not come?"

She didn't respond for over four hours. Which was really fucking weird. Because she always responded to me. So I texted again. "It's totally fine if I can't come, I'd just appreciate it if you could tell me instead of leaving me on read please."

Wow! Would you guess what. CUNT FUCK (CF) (her husband) texted me ALMOST IMMEDIATELY from her phone. The message read something like (I don't have the original texts anymore),

"How could you be so selfish. Inviting yourself on a trip that's for FAMILY ONLY. (Insert rant about how I'm a terrible person and caused CB to have a "panic attack") (and yes, I know putting panic attack in quotations seems really bad, but she faked panic attacks the entire time I knew her, aka my whole life. And they got SO much worse in those last couple months.) You hurt CB so much. You know how much she cares about you, and yet you accused her of ignoring you. How could you. I'm disappointed in the amount of disrespect you are showing right now." (Side note, I went over to his house back in June, CB opened the door, didn't recognize me at first, then said, "Nope, get out!" And slammed the door in my face.)

Tyler came over the next day, we hung out, he left. When he hugged me goodbye he said he'd talk to his parents about bringing me on the beach trip, he didn't know why they hadn't asked me.

And that was the last I heard from him. Friday, July fourteenth, 2017. Never again. I don't know if he hates me. But it certainly seems like he does.

I don't know, maybe one day he'll contact me again. Maybe he won't. Maybe I'll live the rest of my life wondering what I did and why he and his parents hate me. Maybe he will contact me, just to tell me what a terrible person I am and how glad he is he was separated from me.

I don't know.

I just want to talk to him again. I want to tell him how sorry I am for being a bossy prick. For beating him up when we were little (but I mean we're fucking brothers, and that's just what we fucking did back then). For not being there on his 14th birthday. For getting angry when he won games. For being angsty all the time when I was older. For lecturing him about Homestuck all the time. For being in the hospital so much when I was younger (see: being angsty all the time). For spending more time with s/o's than him sometimes. For waking him up at 0100 in the morning in 7th grade. For being so flamboyant about my sexuality for a few years (god, that was bad). For saying TRIGGERED every two seconds. For hurting myself even after I promised I wouldn't. For not being good enough at the piano to play the Animal Crossing: City Folk museum theme with him. For not waking up early when he was over. For not making enough (or good enough) homemade gifts for him. For not having enough random gift days. For not listening to him when he said things I was doing were edgy. For making him listen to annoying music.

For not being a good enough brother.

I miss him so much. I miss Simon so much. I miss Pauline so much too, obviously, but it's different because I've been able to talk with her all the time. I know she loves and misses me. I also have a feeling that Simon loves and misses me too. He always liked/loved me more than anyone else. He hated his parents. He told me so. I was the only one that respected him. I feel like no matter the amount of brainwashing his parents did to him, he'd know the truth. I just hope he knows I didn't abandon him. That I love him so much. And that it hurts so, so much, every day. And especially on Christmas and his birthday. And Halloween. We loved Halloween.

It's 0606 now. There's 41 hours and 54 minutes until it's been two whole years.

I wonder if he remembers the day...?

I don't know.

I wonder if he'll read this one day. Probably not. But if he does I hope he knows how much I love him and how much I miss him and how much I miss our driveway talks in the middle of the night and Mario kart races and pool games and water pool games and snowmen and sledding and writing stories together and drawing maps together and listening to pop songs while making fun of them and playing the undertale song game and playing minecraft and watching markiplier and fighting and cheating at board games in each other's favor and sorting candy after Halloween and collecting shit money from a camel in that Indiana Jones lego Wii game and making characters in that star wars lego Wii game and screaming badgers at the top of our lungs and spinning in circles to the hamster dance and walking home from elementary school and learning Japanese and OPERATIONTWENTYFOURHUNDRED and Sliced and making house tour videos and other fucking stupid home videos and building legos and rebuilding legos bc of simon and REREBUILDING LEGOS BC OF SIMON and planning midnight snacks that never happened and going to the waterpark and going to the park and finally being allowed to go places on our own and practicing singing to you and seeing you at all my concerts and playing Kirby's Return to Dreamland to 100% together and making really disgusting food creations when we were really little and playing with your hotwheels and cleaning my (DIS-GUS-TENG) room together and having random gift days and all your birthdays and all my birthdays and your AMAZING peanut butter fudge banana smoothie (which I,,, still have yet to perfect) and you being absolutely blunt and truthful towards me (except about my drawing skills/drawings which you absolutely loved even though they were terrible) and going through the undertale files to try and hack the end credits so we could get through the mysterious door and having tea parties together with that FUCKING TINY tea set (I have a big one now though) and giving you fashion shows with fucking stupid clothes that were really bad and playing Wii ski together and Super Mario Galaxy together while you were Mario and I froze enemies and collected stars and playing HMTOT and playing Animal Crossing and you selling everything you caught and all your furniture (besides mario stuff, obviously) so I could buy the Gracie Grace stuff (god, I was a cunt) and EOU (YOU'RE AS BLIND AS A WORM) and essentially having our own language and reading jack and annie books when we were really little and just. There's 20,000 more things plus some but I could never list them all. Everything we've ever done together I miss.

I don't know your views on a lot of things now. I don't know what you think about gay people. I've heard that you've called me they instead of he ever since we stopped talking. That's understandable, though. I dressed like a girl and wore makeup and stuff. I was confused. I thought that's what you were supposed to do, as a gay dude. Obviously not. I'm way less out there about my sexuality now. It's not something I talk about. It's not my whole fucking personality anymore. Which is really good.

I've changed so much since I last talked to you. I'm not edgy anymore. I fucking finally hit puberty (GODDAMN IT WAS FUCKING LATE) and my voice is really deep and I've been growing quite a bit of facial hair, which is nice. I don't look like a fucking girl anymore because I stopped dressing like one and wearing makeup and stuff. I realized that being mistaken for a girl felt like shit and tumblr was shit for encouraging that, just because I'm gay. I haven't hurt myself since September 4th, 2017. So that's also good. I've seen the bad things in mom that I couldn't see before. (Even though there's literally. Nothing that should have made your fucking cunt mother and father disown Pauline and mom and I.) I've made more friends and lost a lot too. I've done more writing, but nothing too edgy. I got my shit together in school and I'm going to CCCC starting in the fall. I almost have my driver's license. One of my best friend's moms is the manager at Starbucks and I talked to her about hiring me, so I'm getting a job soon, too. I started learning the piano again, for the first time in 12 years. Since the last time your mom taught it to me. I started cooking more, and have made some pretty amazing dishes, if I do say so myself. Mom and I sent you and Simon birthday and Christmas presents every year. They always were sent back. Except for your 16th birthday. I bought you a pineapple pizza club pin and an orange dad hat with an orange on it. Those are the only things that ever haven't been sent back. I sent a note with them too. Did you read it? I hope so.

I brag about you all the time. Mostly about how smart you are. "My brother essentially taught himself pre-calculus in 10th grade, and STILL passed the class," I say. I then go on to explain that you were homeschooled and your math teacher almost never showed up to the online classes.

I've wondered often about what college you're going to go to, or even if you are going. We used to plan to go to one together. I can't even remember what I wanted as a career the last time we talked. I remember that you had no idea, though. I remember you being really good at coding. Maybe you're majoring in computer sciences? I don't know.

I really miss you a ton. Before she kicked me out, mom used to encourage me to send you a letter. I never did. I was scared. Scared of getting a letter back like the one I sent to Simon on his eighth birthday, or the Christmas package we sent in 2017. Both came back to our house with "RETURN TO SENDER!!!!!!!" written in thick black sharpie on the front. Even worse, I imagined a letter back in your handwriting. I would've been so, so ecstatic. Beyond thrilled. Then upon opening it, finding a handwritten letter from you saying that you never wanted to hear from me again and that you hated me.

It was selfish of me. To not send you a letter. I'm sorry. I texted you twice. You blocked me the second time. It was too scary to me. I should've been brave. For you. Just so you knew I was thinking of you. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I miss you so much.

After I moved back to our hometown, I thought about going to your house. I texted one of your friends. He said that he could text you for me. He said that you said you miss me. And that you'd text me as soon as you turned 18. Tyler, you don't even know my number. I don't know if the guy was lying or not, but I don't think so. He doesn't seem like the type. He said that you wouldn't have him communicate for us. I don't know why.

I don't know why your parents hate me. I don't know what I did. For the longest time, my therapist and mom and Pauline told me that I didn't do anything, it had to have been something between mom and your mom. I didn't believe that at all. If it was just mom, why did they cut Pauline and I off...? But eventually I started to believe them. That was clearly a mistake, seeing how your mom treated me when I saw her. I wonder if she told you about that. She literally slammed the door in my face. In her own son's face. Who she always told would always have a home with her. Who she always told would always have a place in her heart, no matter what happened between mom and her. So clearly I did do something. I have no idea what. Could it really be that I asked about if I had been forgotten for a trip...? Was 15 years of raising a child completely disregarded because I was curious and confused? Again, I have no clue. I doubt I ever will. But if that is the case. If that's why specifically /I/ was cut off (because I know there was something else between mom and your mom that she literally never explained. Literally all mom and Pauline and I know is that apparently mom was "abusive" for years towards your mom, despite nobody ever seeing it, her never mentioning it before I went to Oak Grove, and her saying that she "knew it happened, but didn't know what it was"), then I doubt that your parents ever really loved me. If a simple question erases a lifetime of care and love and bonds and family, then all of those things were never really there.

It's 0737. Yeah, I still use military time. Also, I wanted to do a speech (in my speech class) on why a time system based on 10's would be better for the world. Remember? You wanted that. I couldn't remember the details, though. Anyway. It's 0738. There's 40 hours and 22 minutes until it's been two years since I've seen you.

I often wonder if you think about me. I think about you all the time. Have I faded from your memory? What am I to you now? Am I your brother, your closest confidant, your best friend, and your <>? Am I nothing? Just a faint thought, a distant memory? Or am I your worst enemy? Have your parents convicted you that I'm a horrible person? I desperately hope not. I hope you remember everything. And I hope that you realize that it's been a long time, and we both have matured a ton. Going from an edgy 10th grader who thinks dressing like a girl, screaming "GAY," and looking up undertale AU's are the coolest things ever to a college freshman who finally realized that sexuality shouldn't be a personality trait, being an edgy cunt isn't cool, and responsibilities are actually important is a big difference. I'm sure you've had some huge changes too. You're almost 18. As of today, there's 2 months and 2 days until your birthday. I've been waiting for it for so, so long. An eternity, it feels like. I'm so scared. I don't know if you hate me or not. I'm going to text you. I'm not sure on what, but something. I'll tell you happy birthday. Just so you know how to contact me in case you want to talk. I have no idea if you'll just block me right off the bat. I'm hoping so, so much that Nathanael wasn't saying you hate me.

It's 0756. There's 40 hours and 4 minutes until it's been two years since I've seen you. Error 404 means...something not found, right? I don't know. It doesn't matter.

I miss you. I love you.

Please come back soon.

- E. Nikolas B.