#i'm enjoying him being an agent of chaos

[negrowhat]

Congrats to Yamase Kazuma for successfully ruffling Hayama Asami's feathers.

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

[bossbtch1]

Forbidden Reunion

Summary : You managed to escape from Loki after discovering his lies. Aware that both he and the TVA would be searching for you, you prayed they wouldn't succeed. However, now Loki stood in front of you and he had no intentions of letting you go.

Pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

General tags : SMUT, 18+, Dark Fic, Obsessive, Yandere

Trigger Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Stalking, Non-con, Dubious Consent, Forced Blowjob, Forced Orgasm, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Overstimulation (let me know if I missed any lol)

Word Count: 10k

A/N : Sorry it took me too long to post this, juggling this alongside my other story took some time. But as promised, I'm releasing this one first.

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. I've warned you, this fic isn't for the faint-hearted.

This took in Loki season 2 based on that shadow play.

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

Exhausted from years of evading both Loki and the TVA. Tonight, you found yourself in a bar, a moment to escape the chaos for years and hoping for a chance encounter. Despite your past with Loki, you were eager to move forward and explore new relationships, you have your own needs, and the more time went on, you knew they could not be sated by yourself anymore.

You could use your power to manipulate them into sleeping with you, but you knew it was wrong, you were sure there was a natural progression you just needed to be patient, and maybe your powers were going to waste being used to keep you hidden from the TVA.

Your mind drifted back to Loki, the god of Mischief and how he lied to you, manipulated you.

Flashback

"I'm sorry to say this, but you have been deceived by him," the TVA agent asserted. You turned your back on her as you attempted to escape, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Loki. You had become separated during the chaotic chase within the TVA headquarters.

"No, I'm not. Loki wouldn't lie to me," you defended him, your voice laced with unwavering belief.

"Is he? Tell me, what did he say to you, the reason he got caught?" the agent probed, her tone challenging.

"He tried to rule Earth and failed," you replied, recalling the events that had led to his capture.

She seemed surprised that you knew. "Yes, and whose fault was that?" she pressed further.

“Yes, I know it was his.” You admitted, frustration seeping into your words, “But it stemmed from his deep-seated need for approval and love, especially from a father who resented him for being adopted." Despite the firmness in your tone, a flicker of doubt shadowed your eyes, making you question whether you were convincing the agent or merely grappling with your own uncertainties.

"Is that the whole story? Or just a part he wants you to believe?" Her words hung heavy in the air.

"He's the trickster god, the silvertongue," she continued, her voice steady, unwavering. "Manipulation is in his nature. Don't fall for his lies."

"Hello? Hey?" You heard a voice bringing you back from your daydream. "Can I buy you a drink?"

You looked up, it was a handsome man who had sat down beside you. You smiled, not wanting to appear rude. "Yes, please," you said.

He smiled, "I'm Mark."

"Y/N," you said.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he smiled.

You returned his smile. You enjoyed his company as you chatted and laughed, his eyes sparkled as he listened to you talk, you knew you were making him blush when you teased him, he was sweet, and you knew he liked you.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so at ease with a stranger, the feeling was new and exciting. He seemed so genuinely interested in what you had to say and you felt as if he actually understood what was going on in your life.

"Do you want to come to my place? I've got a bottle of whiskey that needs drinking," he smiled.

"Sure, why not?" you said, downing the rest of your drink. This was your chance to get what you've been craving, and what better way to start than with a handsome man inviting you to his place?

Then someone spilled his drink onto Mark, ruining his white shirt.

"What the hell? Are you kidding me?!" he yelled at the man. "Watch where you're going, asshole." He shouted in frustration.

"Oh, I am so sorry, man, I tripped," the other man said, his voice calmed.

You recognize the voice.

It was Mobius.

Your heart raced, and you couldn't believe that he had managed to track you down. Paralyzed with fear, you sat there, feeling the color drain from your face as you stared at him in disbelief. If Mobius was here then that meant that Loki wasn't far behind.

Mark was fuming, he stormed off to the bathroom, leaving you alone, and you wanted desperately to call out, to warn him not to leave you by yourself, but fear kept your words trapped in your throat.

"Hello, Y/N."

Your name was like poison on his lips.

"Loki," you hissed back, turning around to face him.

He looked exactly the same as the last time you'd seen him, his black hair was neatly styled, his green eyes were piercing, and his face was pale. His expression was serious, his jaw set and his eyes cold, he looked so different from the Loki you had known and fallen in love with.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Your heart pounded in your chest, your palms sweaty with anxiety, and you were suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the bar.

"I missed you, pet. I have been worried," his tone was mocking and his smirk didn't reach his eyes.

"Don't lie, Loki," you shot back, glaring at him.

"You know, you've always been so difficult."

"And you're an asshole."

Loki didn't say anything, instead he reached for your wrist and held it tight. "Let me go! You fucking liar, I trusted you, I loved you, and you betrayed me," you shouted, struggling against his grip.

"Little one, don't make a scene." he growled in your ear.

Your eyes pleaded with Mobius, who stood caught between the two of you. "Are you just going to stand there and let this happen?" you implored, your voice cracking with desperation.

Mobius sighed, a mixture of resignation and sadness in his eyes. "I'll leave you be for now then," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I'll see you later." With that, he turned away, leaving you to face Loki's wrath alone.

"How about I give you a choice," he said, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Either you can come home willingly, or I can use my magic to knock you out and bring you home. Which do you prefer?" The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving you trapped in a lose-lose situation.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Loki!" you hissed, your voice laced with defiance as you struggled against his grip. Every fiber of your being screamed resistance, but you knew the sheer force of his magic could easily overpower you.

"Very well then," he purred, his lips twisted into a sadistic smile as he waived his hand, ready to use his magic.

"Wait!" You blurted, holding up your hands to stop him, your voice trembled as the weight of your decision bore down upon you.

"Yes, little one?" he asked, his tone condescending and smug.

"I'll come willingly," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It was a lie, a desperate attempt to buy some time.

"But can I go to the bathroom first?" You clung to the hope that a brief moment alone might offer a chance, your mind racing for an escape plan.

"Alright," Loki agreed, his tone oddly accommodating. "Go on, pet." He nodded towards the restroom.

You hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, your heart pounding in your chest. Your frantic eyes searched for your tempad, only to realize it was gone. "Asshole!" you muttered under your breath, realizing that Loki must have taken it when he grabbed your arm.

You had no escape plan, and Loki was waiting for you. You looked for a way out, but the windows were too small for you to climb through, so you thought it would be best to just run through the door and run far away from the bar.

Gathering your courage, you unlocked the door and burst out, your footsteps echoing in the corridor. Behind you, you could hear Loki's enraged shout, "Y/N!" His voice boomed, fueling your determination to run as far and as fast as you could from the bar.

"Y/N! Y/N!" you could hear him getting closer and closer. His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Y/N, stop now!"

"FUCK OFF!" you screamed, frustration and fear fueling your voice. You cast a desperate glance behind you and saw Loki hot on your heels. "Fuck!" you whispered under your breath.

You could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and the fear of being caught was overwhelming. "Fuck, no! Not again!" you thought.

You were annoyed by the people "Move! Move! Please!" You screamed at the people that were blocking the road, but they wouldn't move.

"Fuck you!" One guy shouted back at you after you pushed him away.

You couldn't run anymore. You were too slow, and he was gaining on you, and you knew that you couldn't escape him. But you need to keep trying, you couldn't give up. You were running, and running, and running.

The pain was too much, your muscles ached, and your lungs burned. Your vision was blurred, and you couldn't focus. You were tired of running and out of breath, you leaned against a wall and rested, hoping Loki wouldn't see you.

However, your respite was short-lived. In a blink, Loki teleported right in front of you, his expression oddly calm. "Pet, we have been searching for you for a long time, you hid well." He said, his tone icy.

"You can't be fucking serious!" you hissed, "Why did you look for me? I left for a reason, you betrayed my trust. You used me, and I hate you."

"Little one, why are you angry at me?"

"Are you really asking that, you lying snake?" Pushing him away, you shouted, and sprinted away from him once more, your determination fueling your escape.

You didn't make it far, though, before you felt a familiar, freezing hand grasp your arm, tugging you backward and pulling you against a cold, solid form.

"I don't appreciate it you calling me that."

You gasped, and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was like steel, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn't free yourself from him. "I don't care! Let me go!"

He ignored your pleas, then you pulled out a knife from your pocket. You knew he could've easily taken the knife, but instead he let you go, "You think you can hurt me, little one? How adorable." he cooed, his voice silky smooth.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

He laughed again mocking you, "Do you want to try? Do you think you can stab me with that knife, pet?"

You didn't answer, instead you held the knife up, threatening him, "Loki, you don't want to make me angry." You knew that was stupid of you saying that.

He smirked, he wasn't afraid of you, and he wasn't intimidated by you. "You are so cute when you are mad," he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and his eyes were dark.

"Put the knife down, and we can go home, pet" he offered.

"Fuck you, Loki," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you stood your ground, the knife still clutched tightly in your hand.

He grinned, "Oh, you will soon enough, pet."  He let out a low chuckle and he snapped his finger and the knife flew from your hand to the wall. You watched in horror, you didn’t have anything else on you to defend yourself from him.

He began to advance toward you, a predator toying with his prey. Panic surged through you, urging you to flee. Yet, no matter how fast you ran, Loki always reappeared before you.

His voice dripped with amusement, "Come on, pet. Do you really think you can outrun me?" His grin widened, relishing the chase as if it were sort of a game to him.

"You won't ever escape me, pet. Even if you manage to get away from me, I will always find you again and again. You will be mine, whether you want to or not." He declared, his tone possessive and chilling. He stood before you, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud.

"I won't stop fighting you," you vowed, your voice filled with defiance, glaring at him as he advanced toward you. Desperation fueled your steps as you ran, but he always caught up to you, teleporting right in front of you, a relentless pursuit that seemed endless.

"You can't run forever, pet," he taunted, his eyes dark and menacing, his voice deep and husky. “Eventually, I’ll catch up to you.”

You were getting tired of running. "Come on, pet. Are we playing a game?" He chuckled, the sound echoing eerily through the empty street. The bastard was enjoying this twisted cat-and-mouse chase.

"Just stop!" you cried out, your frustration boiling over.

"Why would I stop? This is the most fun I've had in years, darling. I enjoy seeing you run, it's quite entertaining."

"Shut up." You tried to run away again, your breaths ragged. "Quit your magic, and fight fair!" Deep down, you knew if you were in a one-on-one combat with him, without his magic, you could win. "If you win, I'll come willingly."

"That's not how this works, little one," he chided, his tone laced with amusement.

You felt the anger boiling inside of you, but you continued to run. Each step echoed in the empty alley as you tried to escape his relentless pursuit. "Leave me alone then!" you shouted, desperation lacing your voice.

To your horror, your movements came to an abrupt stop. Loki stood in front of you, his mischievous grin sending shivers down your spine. Frantically, you turned around, only to find him there again, mocking your attempts to escape. Panic set in as you attempted to flee in the opposite direction, but there he was once more, his presence haunting you like a nightmare.

"What the fuck is going on?" you muttered, disbelief coloring your voice. How was he everywhere? How was he doing this? Your mind raced with questions as you stepped back, trying to distance yourself from the three identical Loki that surrounded you.

Were you tripping, or is there really three of them?

Loki's chuckle reverberated around you, a haunting sound that sent chills down your spine. Frustration boiled within you, and you screamed in exasperation, "How are you doing that?" Your voice wavered, trembling with a mixture of frustration and fear as you desperately demanded answers.

His grin widened as he continued to toy with your sanity. "Oh, come now, surely you know a trick or two, you being a witch and all," he taunted, the words laced with mocking arrogance.

You took slow steps backward as the three Loki remained in front of you, your resolve mingling with confusion and growing fear. "I'm not a witch, you... asshole," you retorted.

Suddenly, you felt his warm breath near your ear, and his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "It's called an illusion, little one," he whispered, the hot air tickling your earlobe. You jolted away from him, only to find another Loki standing in front of you, and you jumped yet again.

Fear gripped you, not of him, but of the overwhelming confusion and frustration that clouded your senses. The relentless onslaught of illusions left you feeling disoriented, unable to discern reality from the intricate tricks he was playing.

"Please stop," you pleaded.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Your tricks. I'm not stupid, stop," you demanded, your voice growing firmer despite the fear gripping your heart.

The three Loki slowly closed in on you, each step they took making your heart race faster. You retreated, trying to create distance, but soon your back met the unyielding wall. There was no escape. Your mind raced, your heart pounded, and you breathed heavily, trapped in a nightmare of your own making.

Suddenly, you felt an invisible force restraining your hands, pinning them against the wall. You looked around frantically, searching for the source, but there was no one in sight. Panic clawed at your throat as you realized you were immobilized.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go."

"I don't think I will, my little pet," Loki said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Suddenly, Mobius reappeared beside Loki, seemingly out of thin air. "A little over the top, don’t you think, all the shadow play?" he commented, his tone disapproving.

Loki smirked, unrepentant. "I thought it was spot on."

Mobius turned his attention to you, his expression filled with concern. "What are you trying to do to the poor girl?" he asked.

"I'm merely making a point," Loki replied casually, as if discussing the weather and your distress was nothing more than a game.

Mobius shook his head and lightly chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure you are. That's why she looks like a frightened rabbit."

"I'm still here? Hello?” They were casually talking like you were invincible, despite being bound to a wall. Their attention shifted to you, and you erupted, "Mobius, what the hell? Arrest him! What are you doing!" Panic and anger laced your words, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't do that. I made a deal with Loki," Mobius responded, his tone regretful yet resolute.

You felt a chill run down your spine. "What fucking deal?" You asked, your voice trembling. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm not going to do anything. But Loki, on the other hand..." he chuckled darkly. "Well, the deal is, we only need you alive. That's all I'm saying. My lips are sealed," Mobius replied with a cryptic smile.

You didn't have a chance to process his words before the Loki closest to you began circling you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Your heartbeat wildly, fear coursing through your veins as he trailed his finger along your arm, his touch light and teasing in suspense.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, let me go!" you shrieked, your panic and anger rising. "Mobius you fucking bitch, you are nothing but a- MMM" abruptly, as the shadow silenced you, turning your pleas into incoherent whispers.

Mobius sighed, shaking his head. "Now you're just showing off," he admonished.

"I can't help it, you bring out the worst in me."

Loki stepped in front of you and leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, where were we?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive. His fingers trailed along your jaw, his touch feather-light and tantalizing. You were struggling to break free from his hold, but your body remained paralyzed, at his mercy.

Loki, leaning casually against the wall, let out a low, amused chuckle at your futile struggles. "Oh, little one," he purred, his tone mocking and condescending. "There's no use in fighting. You won't be able to break free. Trust me."

"Now, be a good girl and remain still," Loki said, his smile cruel and unsettling as he locked eyes with you, a twisted affection glinting in his gaze.

"Loki, take it easy on her. She's just a young girl, after all." Mobius interjected, his voice laced with a hint of compassion, though his eyes conveyed a different story. "Make sure to control your pet, Loki.” Mobius emphasized before vanishing into thin air.

You screamed was incoherent since your mouth was being covered by the shadow, you tried to say "Help!" and "No" but nothing came out.

Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. "Oh, darling. Don't try to speak, or scream, or fight. You can't escape, and no one is going to save you. No one will hear you, the only sound you will make is your moans."

Fear gripped you, the uncertainty of Loki's intentions leaving you paralyzed and vulnerable.

He advanced toward you, his steps deliberate and predatory. "Now," he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic anticipation, "let the fun begin, pet."

With a snap of his fingers, Loki dispelled the shadow covering your mouth, granting you the ability to speak again. "Get off me, Laufeyson!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with defiance. You strained against your restraints, desperate to escape his grasp. "This is wrong. You're crazy psychopath."

"Oh, pet," he said, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "We've done far worse together."

Frustration and fear gripped you as you struggled against your bindings, pleading, " Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A dark chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he replied, "You know why."

"Please, just let me go." You pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice.

Loki's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with possessiveness. "I'm afraid I can't do that, love. You belong to me."

"No, I don't! I'm not yours," you protested vehemently. You writhed against the magical restraints, a mixture of anger and fear fueling your struggles. His control over you felt like a violation, and you despised him for it, for using his magic against you in such a cruel manner.

"Oh, pet," Loki purred, his voice dripping with both mockery and desire. "You can fight all you want, but you'll never win, not when it comes to me." He leaned in, his lips grazing your neck in a chilling caress. You whimpered as he sucked on your skin, his teeth scraping lightly.

"Stop. Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

"But why would I stop," he replied, his tone silkier than ever, "when I'm having so much fun?" His words hung in the air, laden with sadistic pleasure.

"I hate you. I will never stop hating you," you spat out, your words laced with a fierce determination, even in the face of your vulnerability.

Loki's lips curled into a sly smile, "You don't truly hate me, little one. You merely pretend to. I see through the façade. I know what lies beneath."

"What the hell are you talking about, Loki?" you shot back.

"Stop being such a brat," he sneered. The shadow binding both your wrists kept you firmly against the wall, his control unyielding. "Do you like being restrained, hmm? Enjoy the feeling of someone else in control, knowing you can't escape, and no one will help you?" His face hovered dangerously close to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“No! Stop that nonsense!” You lied, you were scared, and angry, but you also secretly enjoyed being under his control whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He hummed and kissed your neck and whispered in your ear, his breath tickled your ear and you felt shivers down your spine. “Fuck, how I miss you.” His voice was deep and commanding, sending tingles of pleasure throughout your body.

"Please, stop. Just leave me alone. Don't do this to me, please."

"Oh, little one. You know I can't do that." He said as his hands roamed all over your body, caressing every inch of you, making you feel so vulnerable. You felt the heat rise between your legs and your heart raced faster.

"I can smell your arousal, pet.” He lightly bit your neck. “Your body betrays you. It craves my touch, just as much as you do," he said, his voice laced with a sinister confidence. "You want me, even if you refuse to admit it."

You met his gaze with defiance, attempting to deny the truth he claimed. "You're delusional," you retorted, your words aimed at rejecting his manipulative influence.

"Am I?" Loki's eyes bore into yours, a predatory glint flickering in their depths. "Your heart, your mind, your body—they all long for me, even if you deny it. You can't escape this, no matter how hard you try. I will always find you, even if I have to tear the universe apart to get you back."

Loki was right. Your body was betraying you. The wetness was getting more intense by the minute, you could feel the pleasure building up, but you couldn't let yourself fall into temptation, he had hurt you, lied to you, manipulated you, used you, and now he was going to take you against your will.

You had to fight him.

You had to escape him.

You couldn't let him take you.

Not like this.

But you wanted more, and you knew that Loki would give you everything you wanted and more. You could feel the pleasure building up. You moaned softly as his hands roamed over your breasts. You felt a rush of anger, "What are you doing? You're using your magic to seduce me, aren't you?"

He met your accusation with a knowing grin. "I don't need magic to seduce you.” He countered, “Your body responds to me naturally, so beautifully. It's like a drug, and once I've had a taste, I'm hooked. I can't get enough of you."

You felt his lips on your neck. His kisses were soft and tender. You gasped as his tongue licked your neck, trailing down your collarbone. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips as his fingers pinched your nipple.

You felt he smirked and you tried not to moan, biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was affecting you. But he could read your mind, and he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were feeling. He was inside your head.

"Just stop."

"Not until I'm finished with you. Not until you're begging for more. Begging for my cock inside of you. Begging for me." He slammed your back against the wall, and you yelped as you hit it hard.

He had you caged, and your legs were starting to tremble. You didn't know if it was from the force or the intensity of his words. You tried to push him away but he was stronger than you. His body was pressed against yours. He then kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel his body against yours.

He was a good kisser, and he knew what he was doing. You were moaning into the kiss, and you were fighting to keep control. Then you felt his cock growing hard. You gasped and that was when you realized what was going on. In a desperate act of defiance, you bit down hard, drawing blood. You tasted it.

He pulled back momentarily caught off guard. He looked like a maniac, and you had to remind yourself not to be afraid of him. His lips curled into a sinister grin as he wiped the blood away with his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. "I like that," he said, his voice low and dark, his grin widening.

You stared at him, and you felt your eyes widen in shock. You felt your heart race. You were still struggling against him, and you tried to pull your hand free from his restraints, but it was useless.

"Oh, pet," he sneered, his tone laced with malice. "I'll make you pay for that defiance."

"What are you planning? Torture me?" you challenged back.

"Torture is such a crude term," he replied, his words dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I prefer 'punish'. After all, you've been a naughty girl. And naughty girls must be disciplined."

Your eyes narrowed, a fierce glare aimed his way. "You can't do anything to break me. You can't force me to feel anything. You have no control over me."

He laughed, "Is that so? You know nothing about me, love. Nothing. If I had my way, I would've taken you to my bed, and kept you there, tied up, blindfolded, gagged, naked, helpless, at my mercy. But I can't do that, yet. However, that doesn't mean I can't have fun."

"You're insane. I despise you," you retorted, your words heavy with hatred.

"That's fine," he replied, his tone oddly calm. "I'm used to people hating me. It's just a matter of time before they change their minds. And I'll have you. One way or another, you're mine."

"Go to hell."

"Only if you come with me."

You felt a chill run down your spine, and you couldn't help but shiver. You couldn't stop thinking about the things he had said. About how you were his. You tried to shake the thoughts away, but they were persistent.

You accidentally clenched your pussy at his words, you hoped he didn't notice.

He chuckled, the sound sending chills down your spine. "Oh, pet, that's adorable," he taunted, his grin widening with malicious amusement. "Do you like the thought of that, pet?" Loki's eyes glittered with dark intent, sensing the conflict within you, and it only served to fuel his sadistic amusement.

"No!" You denied.

"Then why did you clench your pussy, hmm? Was it because you were imagining me taking you?"

"It was just a reflex," you stammered, attempting to deny the undeniable truth.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a dark, taunting whisper. His smirk widened, and he moved his face closer to yours until there were mere inches between your lips. "You're lying, love."

"I won't let you slip away again," he whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat, making each breath a struggle. His eyes bore into yours. "I will make you mine."

He tightened his grip around your throat and slammed your back against the wall, your head hit the wall with a loud thud. You couldn't breathe. The pain was unbearable. Tears began streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe.

But this was making you turned on, despite how much you hated Loki, you couldn't deny that he was hot and the way he was being rough with you was making your pussy throb.

"You'll see. It's time to begin your training, pet." He whispered as his hands travelled lower, caressing your inner thigh. "Please, Loki."

"Shhh, shh." He pressed his finger against your lips, "Save your begging."

“Fuck you!”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, "I would love to do that right now, but I think we should save it for later."

"You bastard!" you spat, your anger seething.

"Watch your language, pet," he sneered, his grip tightening as he grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your jaw. "Now, be a good girl and open your mouth." He took a piece of cloth out of his pocket. It was green.

"Hell No! I won't do it. I won't cooperate." You retorted, like who in the world would agree to that?

He sighed. "You know, you really are a stubborn little thing. It's adorable. But, it won't get you anywhere. In fact, it'll just make things worse."

You stared at him. You couldn't believe what was happening. How could he be so cruel? So evil? He chuckled. "I told you. You're not in control here. I am. Now, open your mouth."

“Never.”

"Fine. Then I'll do it for you." He used his magic to force open your mouth, his magic was painful, and it burned. You could barely move. He put the cloth in your mouth and tied it around your head. You tried to scream but couldn't.

"So pretty," he said as he stroked your cheek. "You should be grateful that I'm even letting you use this, instead of forcing you to be silent. And remember, the gag stays on unless I say otherwise. Understand?"

You shook your head mumbling, "Mmff, no."

"That's too bad," he mused, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Because if you try to remove the gag, I'll have to punish you. And you don't want that, do you?"

"Nnooo, I don't," you mumbled, your voice barely audible through the gag.

"Good girl," he purred. "You'll get used to it."

With a swift motion, he removed the shadow restraints from your arms, and you immediately attempted to fight back, you tried to hit him, but he easily dodged your blow. His grip iron-strong when he caught your hand. "Careful, pet," he cautioned, his voice a dangerous whisper. "My patience wears thin."

Using his powers, he summoned the shadow to immobilize you once more, pinning you against the wall, this time including your legs. You were rendered utterly helpless, trapped in his web of darkness.

"Now, let's begin," he said, his voice oozing with menace. You remained tied up, gagged, and entirely at his merciless mercy.

He took out a dagger from his belt and cut through your shirt and bra, leaving you exposed. "Oh my, that's a nice sight."

You let out a muffled scream, "You don't need clothes. They will only get in the way."

He began kissing your neck and sucking on your skin. "Mmf," You moaned softly as his lips trailed down your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. He cupped your breast and teased your nipple.

"Mmff No..."

He ignored your protests and continued to play with your nipples.

"You like that, don't you? I can feel how wet you are, darling." He whispered into your ear.

"Mmmff." You tried to deny, but he could hear your thoughts.

He smirked. "I bet if I put my fingers inside you right now, they'd slide right in. I bet you're dripping wet for me, aren't you, my sweet?"

"Mmf."

"You don't need to speak, little one," he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "Just relax. I know what you want."

His hand glided down your thigh, his touch sending electric sparks through your skin, until he slipped his fingers under the hem of your dress and traced the edge of your panties. "And it seems that your body agrees with me," he continued, "It's telling me that it's ready to submit to me."

You closed your eyes and tried to block him out. But he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were thinking.

"Come on, pet. Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see your beautiful eyes."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes and found him staring at you, his gaze darkened with hunger and desire.

"There you go. Such a good girl." He praised you.

He slid your panties to the side and his fingers found your pussy, already dripping wet. "Oh, you're so wet, pet. Do you want me that much? Do you want me to fuck you, hmm?"

He slid your panties to the side and cupped your pussy. "Fuck," he muttered as his fingers slipped between your folds, "You're already dripping for me."

You blushed furiously as he rubbed your clit in slow, gentle circles.

"Yes," he said, his voice deepening, "Your body wants me. It wants me to take you and make you mine."

His finger pressed against your entrance and then pushed into you, making you gasp. He curled it and began to massage your G-spot. You bit your lip and moaned, trying not to make too much noise. You tried to squirm away from him, but it was no use.

You clenched your fists, struggling to hold back the moan threatening to escape your lips. A soft whimper escaped your lips, and the Loki behind you laughed softly. "No. You're not getting away from me."

You whimpered as he thrust another finger into you, stretching you even further. He began pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, making you gasp and moan under the gagged cloth. His fingers worked their magic, sliding in and out of you, rubbing your G-spot with each stroke. He kept a steady rhythm, keeping you on the edge.

You could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, the sensation driving you mad. The Loki in front of you watched intently as he continued to pleasure you, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and amusement as you struggled to keep control. "Oh, little one," he said, "I love seeing you like this. So desperate. So needy. So fucking sexy." His other hand gripped your hips, keeping you in place.

"You're so wet," he murmured, "You're practically begging me to fuck you."

"Mmfff." You tried to ignore him, but he curled his fingers and stroked you just right, and your hips bucked involuntarily. You were quickly approaching your orgasm, and it was impossible to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

Loki leaned in and nipped at your neck, and you shivered as his breath caressed your skin. "But I won't. Not yet. First, I want to watch you come. I want to see your face when you orgasm. I want to hear the sounds you make when you come."

His fingers thrusting into your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. You were so close, and you knew that he could sense it. "Ah, yes. That's it. You're doing so well. Now, tell me... do you want to cum?" He pumped them faster, deeper.

You shook your head. You didn't want to come, you tried to resist, but you were too far gone. You felt the pressure building in your core, the pleasure was too much.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Then let's see how long you can last."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. He thrust a third finger into your pussy and continued his assault on your clit. He was fucking you with his fingers, and you were so close. You could feel the heat rising in your belly, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer. You shook your head at him begging him not to make you come.

"Come on pet, don't fight it, just let it happen. Give into the pleasure. Come for me."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. "Yes, that's it," he whispered, "Just a little bit longer, you're so close."

He was relentless, his fingers working your pussy expertly. "Nnnn." You tried to tell him that you weren't going to let him win, but you couldn't speak.

You could feel the pleasure building and you knew that he could sense it. He kept pumping his fingers and rubbing your clit, and you couldn't hold back any longer. Your pussy was so wet, his fingers were sliding in and out so easily. You felt the orgasm approaching, the pressure was building, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer.

"You're going to come, whether you want to or not. So, don't fight it, just let it happen."

"Mmmmmm"

"Yes. You can't stop it. I'm going to make you come."

He continued to thrust his fingers, his thumb circling your clit, the pressure building until you could take it no more. He removed the gagged from your mouth, "Let me hear your moans, pet."

You let out a loud cry, unable to contain it. "That's it. You're so close, I can feel it.” Your back arched and you cried out, his fingers and thumb pushing you over the edge. "Come for me, my sweet. Come for me. Now." He curled his fingers inside you and bit your neck.

You screamed and bucked as the orgasm took you, and he didn't let up. He continued to pump his fingers and rub your clit, pushing you further and further until you couldn't take it anymore. You thrashed about as the pleasure was too much, your orgasm overwhelming your senses.

Your body writhing against his fingers. Your release was so intense that it made your whole body shudder. He held you tightly, his fingers still moving in and out of your pussy, drawing out your orgasm.

"There we go," he said, smiling down at you. "Such a good girl. You're such a good girl for me, pet."

You were a panting, sweating, mess, and you were exhausted.

He kissed your forehead and pulled his fingers out of you. You were glad the shadow was there restraining you or you would collapse.

After you came down from your high, you realized what just happened. You spat at him, "Fuck you, Loki. You're disgusting."

"Disgusting?" He raised his eyebrows. "Now, why would you say that, little one? Was it not good for you? You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Get the fuck away from me." you spat, your voice filled with venom.

He laughed, "You don't get to tell me what to do, little one. I'm not done with you yet."

"You fucking monster," you screamed, "I'm not going to let you touch me."

He grinned and grabbed your hair, pulling you towards him. "Watch your mouth, pet. I don't like hearing you use foul language. Now, since I was so kind to give you such a nice orgasm, will you be a good girl and obey me without any fuss?"

You rolled your eyes. "Like hell I will!"

He smirked in response. "Since I've been rather kind to you," Loki began, his eyes roaming over your body, "I have a proposition for you."

Though you had little desire to hear anything he had to say, your curiosity got the best of you, compelling you to reluctantly listen.

"Do you want me to fuck you here, right now in this alley, or in our room where we will be alone, and no one will interrupt us." He said with a smirk.

Your throat tightened, both options he presented were equally horrifying. But, the last thing you wanted was for someone to find you two here, like this. "Neither.” you choked out.

"That wasn't an option, my sweet."

You glared at him, "You're vile," you hissed

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by your words. "You say the most hurtful things, pet."

"I'm not going to choose," you declared, "I'm not choosing anything. I'd rather die than have sex with you."

He looked amused. "Fine, then I will choose. You have a few seconds to think about it." He said as he took his jacket off, and dropped it to the ground.

"You're going to take me right here? You're an animal."

"It's your fault for refusing. If you choose the other option, I was going to be nice. I'll be rough if you insist."

"If you touch me, I'll kill you." You growled.

He laughed. "Oh, little one. It's not me you have to worry about."

Ignoring your warning, he reached forward, his touch cold against your skin, and ran his thumb along your lower lip. "Shame that I have to punish you. I'm sure you'll be a good girl after today."

You gritted your teeth and move your face away from his touch, "Don't touch me."

He ignored your demand, and began undoing his pants. He pulled his cock out, and started stroking it. You stared at his member and he was already rock hard. You hesitated, not wanting to touch him.

"Are you afraid, my sweet?"

You remained silent, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

He laughed, “There's no need to be scared. I won't hurt you. Unless you disobey me."

He moved closer, his proximity suffocating. With a swift, unwelcome touch, he reached out and stroked your cheek. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flinch away from his caress.

"Relax, darling. This will be pleasurable for the both of us." He said as he grabbed his cock and ran it against your slit.

You felt your wetness seep onto his cock.

"STOP!" you screamed, your voice breaking the tense atmosphere, forcing him to halt his actions and look up at you.

He smiled at you. "Do you want me to stop, pet?"

You nodded frantically, desperation clouding your eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Tell me," he purred, his tone dripping with cruelty, "why should I stop?"

You scrambled for an excuse, your mind racing. "Let's do it in your place then," you stammered, your words rushed. "Please? I don't want anyone to see." Desperation clung to your voice as you pleaded, hoping against hope that he would agree to your request.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, pet. You know that won't work."

He pressed his cock against your pussy again.

You felt his tip slip inside you. "PLEASE! I'll be good, just please stop."

He smiled. "I like the sound of that."

He sighed, "Very well, little one." He swiftly pulled up his pants, adjusted his shirt, and retrieved his jacket, freeing you in the process. You winced as you flexed your arms, the restraints having taken their toll.

With a snap of a finger, he put your clothes back on, and you felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest. You couldn't believe he stopped. He looked at you. "Remember what I said, pet. You don't speak about this to anyone. I'll know if you do. Understand?"

You nodded.

"Good girl," he affirmed.

"Come," he motioned for you to follow him, and for a moment, you considered fleeing again, knowing full well that it branded you a coward. But the terror of Loki's power held you in check.

You didn't get far before he seized you once more. "Enough!" he bellowed, sending you crashing to the ground. Your body felt numb, the pain overwhelming. You begged through the agony, "Please."

"You brought this on yourself, pet," Loki's tone was icy, disappointment etched in his features. "I was going to take care of you, give everything you desired, and all I asked in return was your love and trust. And you broke it."

"Please, Loki. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

He shook his head, "No, pet. There is no going back. You have to pay the price for what you've done," he stated firmly, his grip unyielding.

Loki wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, "Sweet dreams my pet."

And then, everything faded into darkness.

When you woke up, you were on the bed, naked. The room was dark, and there was no sign of Loki. At least right now your arms and legs weren’t bounded. But still he had kidnapped you. "Fucking asshole!" You cursed inside your head.

Then you heard footsteps approaching outside, you pretended to fall asleep, hoping that he'd leave. "I know you're awake, my sweet." He chuckled, "Did you really think you could trick me, darling? You're such a naughty girl, aren't you? Tsk tsk. Such a bad girl."

You tried to fool the god of mischief, what an idiot you were. You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you. He sat down next to you and began caressing your body. He ran his hand up and down your legs.

You slapped his hand away, you hated him. How dare he touch you like that! Loki grabbed your wrist, "Don't try to stop me, little one." He threatened, his grip was tight. It hurt. "No, stop." You whimpered. You tried to struggle free, but he was too strong.

"Oh no, no, no, you're not going anywhere." He said as he pinned you down on the bed. "Are you ready to behave now, my sweet?"

You refused to respond, instead, you glared at him.

Loki shook his head and chuckled. "You are so beautiful, my sweet.”

You were getting tired of him calling you sweet and darling. "Shut up, Loki. Don’t fucking call me that, you bastard!"

He gave you a stern look. "Behave."

"Or what?" You challenged.

Loki leaned down and pressed his lips to your ear. "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to have to punish you."

You glared up at him. "What, like you haven't already done that?"

Loki smirked, "Don't be a smartass, darling. I can make this a lot worse."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Loki gripped your hair tightly and tugged your head back. "Are you sure you want to challenge me?"

You looked up at him defiantly. "Do your worst." You then saw him grinned, you realized you had made a big mistake.

"As you wish, little one." Loki said with a wicked grin. He got off the bed and started taking his clothes off. You knew what he was going to do, and it scared you.

He took off his shirt and threw it aside. You were confused at first, until Loki lifted his other hand and started waving it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you don't try to resist."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, I don't want you getting away." Loki smirked. He then started moving his hand up and down your body.

You squirmed and tried to push his hand away, but they felt frozen. "Let me go, you sick bastard!"

Loki gave you a wicked grin. "No, I don't think I will"

Loki forced his lips against yours, you tried to resist, but it was useless. You couldn't move. You tried to turn your head, but it was no use.

Loki forced his tongue into your mouth. He explored every inch of your mouth, tasting you. You could taste his breath. It was sweet, with a hint of mint. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Stop!" You yelled, "Please stop, Loki! I don't want to do this!

Loki ignored you. He kept kissing you, forcing his tongue down your throat. "I know you like it, darling."

You shook your head. Loki broke the kiss and smiled. "You're such a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

“Why are you so impatient, my little pet?” Loki laughed. "Don’t worry, I’ll do it in a moment. Right now, I'm more concerned with teaching you a lesson."

You glared at him, you were so pissed off. He laughed again, “Such a pretty face, too.” He traced his finger along your jawline.

Then you watched Loki removed his pants, revealing his fully erect cock. He stroked himself slowly. You felt your body heat up. You couldn't believe it. He was making you hot.

"See something you like?" He grinned.

You blushed. You looked away. It had been awhile since you had sex with him or anyone else. You missed being fucked by him. You needed to feel his cock deep inside of you. But you knew this was wrong, you looked away from him.

"Look at me." He ordered.

You turned and looked at him. You watched as he continued to stroke his cock. "You betrayed me, Y/N." He climbed over you and straddled your hips, trapping your wrists with his hands, and pinned them above your head. "You hurt me. You have to be punished."

“You are hurting me too.”

“I don’t think so, pet. Deep down, you want this. You want me to force myself to you, you don’t think I know? I know your deepest darkest desire. The desire you try to deny. The desire for me to make you mine again. You want to be my pet again, don't you?"

He was right. You were afraid to admit it but you missed Loki. But you didn't want to admit it. You shook your head, “No! I don’t have such thing.” You knew it was a lie, deep down you wanted him to use you and force himself on you, forced you into submission, make you his again, like he had done many times before.

"Keep lying to yourself, pet. I know you more than you know yourself. Now, open your mouth and let me fuck it.”  He smirked and moved closer to you. His cock was inches away from your face. You moved your head away, but he grabbed your hair and pulled it. You winced in pain.

"Open up. Open wide and say ahh."

You refused to obey. "Don't be stubborn." You clenched your teeth together. "If you don't open your mouth, I'll fuck your throat. I'll make you gag and choke."

"You're sick."

"Maybe, but so are you, darling."

He grabbed your face, forced your mouth open. You kept them close together, "I'll fucking bite your dick off, I swear."

He was having none of it, he used his magic to make you couldn't move your jaw. Then he shoved his cock inside your mouth and forced his way in. He started to pump his hips and his cock went deep down your throat, hitting the back of your throat. He moaned, enjoying the feeling.

He pushed his cock deep into your throat, making you gag. You could feel his hard length against your tongue. His precum leaked onto your taste buds, sending shivers down your spine. He kept thrusting in and out of your mouth, deeper and deeper. Your eyes watered.

 You coughed, trying to catch your breath, but he was relentless. His hands gripped your hair tightly, his hips moved faster and harder, his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

You felt your body relax, your heart rate quickened, and your clit throbbed. You were getting turned on by this. You whimpered and felt a surge of excitement flow through your body. You couldn't believe it. You were excited at the thought of him taking you, forcing you, fucking you.

You were sick.

"This is all your fault." He said as he looked at you, enjoying the way your throat was stretched around him. "Such a good pet. Take it all, pet."

He grabbed your hair and forced his cock deeper into your mouth. You were struggling to breathe. He moaned louder as he felt his cock going deeper into your throat. He held his cock in your throat, watching you struggle to breathe. "Such a pretty face. I wonder how many people you've sucked off.”

You whimpered, feeling your body reacting to his words.

"Did you plan to suck that guy you were flirting with?" He thrusted his hips. You gagged and tears filled your eyes. "He could never make you feel this good." He moaned. His thrust became harder and deeper. You choked and gagged on his cock.

You cried, your body trembled. You were about to pass out, when he suddenly pulled his cock out and allowed you to breathe. You gasped, sucking in as much air as possible. You couldn't move, you were frozen. He then proceed to grab his cock and stroke it.

"Such a pretty sight, you are. And the view of your lips wrapped around my cock." He said, grinning. "Don't worry, my pet. I'm almost there. You're doing a great job. You're going to be rewarded for being so good for me. I'm going to give you what you want. What you need."

He grabbed your hair and slammed his cock deep again into your throat. Then his hand reached to your pussy. He put his finger in your pussy, you moaned as he touched your pussy. He smirked.  "That's a good girl, you are learning. Now, suck my cock."

You started sucking his cock. He started thrusting his cock deeper and harder into your throat. He moaned as you sucked his cock. He loved feeling your mouth on his cock.

"Mmmphh… stwop.” You tried to beg, but his cock was down your throat.

"Do not talk with your mouth full, darling. That is not polite."

You felt him tighten around your neck. His grip was firm.

"I am going to cum. Do not spit. Swallow every drop, and maybe I will reward you. But only if you're a good girl. Do you understand?"

"Mmmph." You tried to protest, but the god didn't listen. You couldn't do anything except suck his cock. Loki kept fucking your mouth until his seed spilled into your throat, you felt the warm liquid slide down your throat making you choke. Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed his seed. He pulled out and released your hands.

You coughed, and gasped for air. "Good girl. Very good girl." Loki patted your head.

You glared at him. You wanted him dead.

"Don't be like that, Y/N. You're supposed to be happy. This is what you wanted, remember? We're together again. Just like old times."

You looked away. "That was a long time ago."

Loki grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "But it's not too late. We can have it again. We can have everything. We just have to work together."

"Work together?" You scoffed, "How can we work together? You lied to me!”

“We can talk later, my love. Right now, I need to be inside you.” He stroked his cock, he was still hard even after he came earlier. He spread your legs apart and grabbed a hold of his cock, aiming it towards your wet pussy.

"Now I'm going to fuck you so hard until you pass out. Until I cum deep inside of you and make you mine again. Then when you wake up, I'll fuck you again, and again, and again."

You felt him press his cock against your pussy, his head slid between your folds and penetrated you. "No, Loki, please, I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that."  He stroked down his hard cock even after he just came, he was hard again. He then forced himself inside of you. You screamed in agony. He was too big.

"Oh, stop your whining." Loki chuckled. "You're such a baby. It doesn't hurt that much."

His cock was big that it stretched your open, he didn’t give you time to adjust. You screamed, "You fucking asshole!"

"Watch your mouth, darling. I'm not a fan of that language." Loki slapped your pussy, it was red and swollen from his previous assault. He kept thrusting his hips, his cock pounded you over and over. Your whole body ached from him.

He was holding your waist down with one hand and pumping his hips in and out of your pussy. He continued to thrust in and out of you. He took his time and made sure he hit the spot that would make you scream and beg for more. He knew what you wanted, he knew your body and what made you tick.

You were biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan for him.

"Why don't you let me hear those beautiful moans, pet?" Loki purred, leaning his face in close to yours. "Don't hold back, you know you want to enjoy this."

"No..."

Loki grinned and snapped his hips hard against yours. "I know what you like, and I know you like this. It's why I keep doing this." He smiled wickedly. Loki picked up the pace. His cock hit the spot inside of you. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed, just let it all out."

You bit your lip and gripped his sheets, trying not to make a sound. "Darling, you're so stubborn, you're going to hurt yourself." Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked on it, causing you to moan and look up at him.

"You're fucking psycho!"

Loki began pounding into you even harder. His hand gripped your throat, and you felt yourself grow weaker. fast. "Loki, please..." Your vision began to fade, and you started gasping for air.  “Stop…” Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you.

He squeezed them together and pounding his cock into you. You screamed and he slapped your pussy again. He fucked you harder than you'd ever been fucked before. You were sobbing, begging him to stop. Tears ran down your face but he didn't slow down. He kept fucking you harder than before. Your breasts were bouncing wildly as he pounded into you.

You felt him hit a spot inside of you that caused a surge of pleasure to flow through your body.  "That's it, darling." Loki moaned, slamming his hips harder against yours. "Come on, you know you want to."

You felt your orgasm building. You tried to fight the urge, but you couldn't help yourself. He kept pounding into you, his cock rubbing against your g-spot.

"Don’t fight it. You can't resist, so just give in." Loki said thrusting harder and harder, until you were both a moaning, writhing mess. Your walls clenched around his cock, and you arched your back. You moaned loudly as he fucked you harder and faster.

You couldn't fight it anymore, you screamed in pleasure, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

"Fuck, yes! Come for me! Milk my cock, pet"

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you. Loki didn't stop, he continued thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your body shook uncontrollably. You cried out again, screaming.

"Please, stop." You pleaded, panting.

Loki ignored you, he fucked you harder and harder, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you. "I'm going to fill you with my seed. You'll be leaking it out for days. Every time you sit down or move, you'll feel it dripping down your thighs. You'll be mine."

"Please, Loki! No! Pull out!" You begged, trying to push him off of you. But he was too strong. "Why are you doing this to me?" You cried.

"I'm not going to pull out." Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you. "After you betrayed me, this is the least you deserve. I'm going to make you pregnant. You'll have a little monster running around. You won’t ever leave me again.”

"No! Loki, stop!" You sobbed, crying out. "I'll do anything! Please don't cum in me."

"It's too late, pet." Loki ignored your pleas, he continued thrusting hard. He rubbed your clit, "Cum with me, my sweet." He was rubbing it harder, making it hard for you to keep up with his thrusts.

You shook your head. Loki growled. "Now."

You gasped, "No! No!" You cried out, trying to pull away. You couldn't fight it anymore. You moaned loudly. Your whole body spasmed with your orgasm, your walls clenching tightly around him.

Loki groaned. You felt him got bigger inside you. He let out a long moan. "Take my cum."  He spilled his hot seed inside you. It filled you, filling you up, some of it spilling out. You could feel it filling your womb, stretching your belly. It was so warm.

He continued to fuck you through his orgasm, pushing more of his cum into you. "No! Please stop!"

Loki laughed, his cock was still hard and pushed his cock back into your pussy. "Oh, but we're not done yet. I'm not finished with you yet." He pushed himself deeper inside you. He was still coming. "This is just the beginning."

"You're fucking insane."

"Yes, I know." Loki was still pumping his cock in and out of you. "I'm going to train your body. You're going to crave me, my cock, and my cum. And every time you see me, you're going to want me to fuck you. You'll need me."

"No!" You cried.

"Yes, yes, you will. Because I'm the only one who can satisfy you." He was thrusting harder, deeper, his pace increasing.

You were afraid he might never stop. And he never did.

It had felt like hours. You lost count on how many times you had orgasmed. It was too much. The room was spinning, the pain and pleasure becoming too much. You were so sensitive, every touch sending you over the edge.

“Loki, please stop. I’m begging you.” You were exhausted, spent, and sore. You couldn’t take it anymore. But you couldn’t stop him, he was too strong and too weak. He kept fucking you over and over again until you were almost at the point of passing out. But he made sure you never did by using his magic to keep you awake.

"Look at your beautiful, stretched pussy. My seed is already filling you."

You whimpered, you could feel it. You could feel the weight of his cum inside you. He never pull out. He kept coming, and his cock kept spurting more and more. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to have so much cum. He was fucking you again and again.

"You'll learn to love me. You'll learn to beg for me. You'll learn to come on command. You'll learn to obey me. You'll learn to pleasure me. You'll learn to worship me. Because that is how we are, my sweet."

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, he was done. He collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His cock remained buried inside your pussy, and you felt him softening inside you. Your pussy ached from the rough pounding he had given you.

"You are mine, my sweet. Now and forever." He said, giving you a possessive look.

You felt his cum slowly trickle out of you. Your belly was still swollen from the amount he had pumped into you. You had never felt so full. It was like you were a water balloon, and he had been filling you with water.

Loki kissed you deeply. You could barely fight him back, you were too weak. He smiled and ran his hand through your hair. "Now get some sleep, I'll be back to check on you later." Loki got up from the bed and walked away.

The door shut. You laid there, stunned and exhausted. You were still trying to process what had happened, but there was one thing you knew for sure. You were trapped. You were his prisoner.

He was not going to let you go. Ever.

"I hate you, Loki." You whispered.

And you knew he heard it.

E/N : I intentionally made her emotion sway back and forth, torn between desiring him yet hating his actions. They're both twisted in their own ways, perhaps that's why they complement each other.

Honestly, I'm not entirely content with how the story is going; I might rewrite or delete it later, I'm not sure. Nevertheless, thank you for reading!

Let me know if you enjoy dark fics too! I adore them and plan to write more.

[koolades-world]

Hi! I just thought it would be funny to request all the characters with an MC who drives like a maniac. The no-speed limit sign is their bestie at this point!

hi! sure thing! in honor of me earning my drivers license, I figured this would be fitting. not sure how long this will take to be posted, but i'm writing this on august 23th, the day i actually got my license lol

enjoy <3

Maniac Driver Mc

Lucifer

oh you're going to be the death of him

this old man will have a heart attack and it may or may not be because of you

but! he still loves you lol. just, maybe at least try to go a little slower when he's in the car haha

Mammon

he's probably so excited

another fellow speed demon! (haha get it? lol)

can and will invite you to do illegal street racing that you probably will get caught by lucifer doing

Levi

please, for his sake, be careful when he is in the car

being outside is hard enough for him bestie

unless you want him to turn into either jelly or a puree, try to tone it down, just a little haha

Satan

i cannot decide if he'd be judging you or encouraging you

either way, it's subtle

seems like the type to hand you notes that you didn't know he was taking about the ride and what you could improve

Asmo

he seems like he would enjoy it

plus, he can get tons of cute passenger princess photos!

as long as you take him to the stores you promised, he doesn't care how you get there

Beel

he would not care

if you like to go fast, you like to go fast

although do be mindful, he will be eating in the car and if you stop abruptly, the snacks will go flying everywhere. choose your battles lol

Belphie

let's be so real

he is asleep. car rides are ideal for napping

just don't take sharp turns or do anything to wake him up, and he will not care

Diavolo

he loves new experiences!

anything that might kill lucifer is something he's dying to try

and what better person to try it with then with someone lucifer can't say no to?

Barbatos

he might not look it

but he also tends to speed lol

since he's barb, he always knows exactly when to slow down and be careful and always lets you know when to do so as well

Simeon

he's very chill about it actually

he can usually be found in the back seat reading a book

if he's the one behind the wheel, he's a very safe driver and is the one people call a slow poke (see thirteen)

Luke

he's always asking you not to do it because he's afraid for your wellbeing

he gifts you a keychain for your car keys that he personally blessed

at the very least, you never speed when he's in the car because it's luke

Solomon

i'm very torn between him not knowing how to drive at all and also being a chaotic driver

if he can't drive he insist you teach him

if he's also an agent of chaos on the road, he's for sure timing you and enabling you lol

Mephisto

his dramatic ass is for sure the one gripping the handles overhead and gripping his chest like a mom teaching her kid to drive

to be fair he probably doesn’t have a license because he has a chauffeur

just tell him what you’re doing is totally legal and that you know better haha

Thirteen

she's excited for the ride

she is one-hundred percent the one encouraging your behavior

will also make fun of all of the people you pass on the road by calling them slow pokes lol

Raphael 

he just does not get it

why do you ignore the set rules for the road?

honestly, he accepts this fact pretty easily and while he could get you to stop, he's kind of interested in seeing where this might go

[lizardkingeliot]

Congrats on your freedom from the mess!

I'm having a craving to read a scene where Louis is defending Lestat to someone. I'm not particular about the context but I hope that we'll get some "that's my husband and only I can talk shit about him" energy from Louis in the show too. But I'd settle for a few hundred words from you! ❤️

Okay. So. When I started writing this I challenged myself to keep it under 500 words and... lmao. Well. It ended up being almost 1500. Because of course. But ANYWAY I hope you're here for some Rockstar Lestat and Photographer Louis because that's what this ended up being. The urge to turn this into a longer fic is STRONG but I'm resisting for now. After I finish my current wip I might come back to it and fill it out and pop it up on AO3. IDK... we'll see lol.

Anyway I'm sticking most of this under a cut. Thank you for this lovely prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

—

Louis emerged from the dressing room first. Leaned against the wall outside the door and started fiddling with his camera. Checking over the pictures he’d taken just moments ago. Lestat—a ring of vanity lights like a halo around the mirror behind him. Lestat—purple leather pants, lime green crop top, the word Slut scrawled in sparkly cursive on the chest. Lestat—golden hair gleaming in the artificial light. Eyes on the camera, on Louis where he stood a safe distance away beyond the lens. Pink mouth slightly parted just so, just so…

Lestat walked out not a minute after Louis and was instantly surrounded by a horde of people. His tour manager, his agent, Daniel Molloy, a handful of nondescript faces attached to bodies Louis didn’t know. Lestat scowled and waved them all away from him at once, muttering his annoyance under his breath in French.

Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back. And met Louis’ gaze across the distance. His eyes lined in smudgy black lighting up in exactly the way they’d been when Louis viewed him through the lens of his camera moments ago. Mouth quirking up in a secret smile meant for Louis and Louis alone.

Louis smiled back, couldn’t help it. Stomach doing some truly impressive acrobatics when Lestat turned away and disappeared in the direction of the stage. He was grateful for the wall for reminding his body to stay upright. He forced a breath, was just about to turn his eyes back to his camera when the muffled conversation two roadies were having over by the loading bay invaded his senses.

“Did you see what he’s wearing now?” Roadie Number One asked with a self-satisfied little laugh. The sound of it was instantly grating. It was such a pompously human sound. “For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Like I said before,” Roadie Number Two offered in a casual, gravelly tone. One hand on a flight case, the other fiddling with the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. “The whole fruit basket, that one. Talk about shoving it in your face.”

Louis tipped his head to one side. Watched them both with big unblinking eyes as they started moving down the hall in the direction of the stage. His pulse beating slow and steady inside him. Moving the blood through his veins at a calculating, almost predatory pace.

—

After the show, backstage was the usual chaos. A sea of people and their sounds. Lestat’s team, his band, his groupies. Equipment being rushed back out the way it had come in. And though Louis had been standing just off stage and watched with his own two eyes as Lestat made his exit following his second encore. Had snapped one final picture in the split second before Lestat passed by and their hands—very intentionally, on Lestat’s part at least—brushed together. Suddenly, Lestat was nowhere to be found.

Louis screwed the lens from his camera, tucked everything away in his case and slung the strap over his shoulder. The moment he lifted his head, he saw them. Roadie One and Roadie Two. And hunger grumbled deep inside him. And it dawned on Louis all at once that he’d been so busy tonight he hadn’t actually fed.

He could have just let it go. He should have. Human beings—what did they matter? But Lestat wasn’t around and the thought that he was off with some groupie getting his dick wet pissed him off just enough for the hunger to spur him forward. He moved without even thinking to, and in a blink he was standing in front of Roadie Number Two. Crowding him against the flight case he’d been hauling. So close their noses nearly touched.

“Hello,” Louis said. Roadie Two’s eyes went wide as two big moons. “I have a question for you—”

“Hey, man, what the f—”

Louis choked off the man’s voice with a thought at once. Vampiric power working like a hand around his throat.

“Don’t be rude when your elders are speaking.” Louis took a single calculated step back. Roadie Two was trembling in his black jeans. Louis didn’t even have to hold him in place. Frozen with terror, the man couldn’t move. And Louis grinned. “Now—my question. And I do think you of all people can help me with this one.”

Louis listened to the tangle of thoughts in his head. A litany of curses. An endless slew of fear and dark and what the fuck what the fuck. People were rushing all around them. Louis thought, distantly—maybe—that Daniel was saying his name.

“Do you happen to know where I might find a fruit basket in this city?”

Louis laughed, a dark and wobbling sound. The hunger had him by the belly. He had to fight against his fangs to keep them from popping out.

There were tears in Roadie Two’s wide moon eyes that didn’t blink. He found the strength to reach up with one hand and paw uselessly at his own throat. Thick rasping sounds falling out of it as he fought against the Dark Gift’s suppression of his breath.

Louis laughed again.

“Yeah,” Louis said, and tipped his head to one side. And watched the artery throb with blood on the side of the roadie’s thick neck. “That’s what I thought. Not so easy to get those smartass words of yours out now, is it? You know, next time maybe you should try sayin’ that shit to—”

“Louis.”

Lestat. Behind him. Heartbeat like a siren. Warm, gushing sound of life like a song inside his veins. Louis’ mind stumbled over itself for a fraction of a second and he lost his hold on Roadie Two’s throat. And the man crumbled down to his knees in a coughing fit in an instant.

“Louis,” Lestat said again. And Louis spun around. And—

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth. Golden hair skimming bare shoulders. At some point between the stage and right then, Lestat had lost his shirt.

“Lestat.” Louis straightened his neck, gripped the strap of his camera case just to have something to hold onto. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he knew Lestat could hear it. “Hey, uh, so—”

“Cheri, I know you’re hungry, but I believe it would be ill-advised to eat the roadies.”

Louis drew a breath, huffed it out, distantly aware that Roadie Two was half-crawling, half-running away behind him. “Wasn’t gonna eat him. Just—” He huffed another breath. “And please don’t call me—”

“You were sticking up for me.”

Smudged eyeliner. Blue eyes shining in those messy rings of black. Louis’ heartbeat was a kick pedal drum inside his chest.

“Just didn’t care for his tone, is all.” Louis tried for casual, but the words came out all wrong. Like suddenly he was the one being choked. “He said—”

“I know what he said, cheri.” One corner of Lestat’s mouth twitched, amused and annoyed all at once. “Excusez-moi—Louis.” Head tipped to one side. Eyes sweeping appraisingly over Louis’ face, down to his chest. Blue eyes limned in so much black. “They always say these things. The two of them. Like school boys. They cannot help that they are wildly attracted to me.”

At that—Louis instantly started to laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Smudged eyeliner. Leaning close. Lestat put his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Well, yes,” he said very quietly. Voice a husky rumble pouring from his throat. “That is what they tell me.”

Warm breath on Louis’ neck. Lestat pulled back, and all the people rushing around them suddenly melted away. And it was just the two of them. And there was a glint in Lestat’s eyes like he’d just won a game neither of them had even realized they were playing. Or that they’d both been playing with their whole chests, and now their chests were caving in. And the game was over.

And Lestat was clutching the prize with both hands.

And Louis was going to let him have it.

“Yeah, so—anyway.” Louis took a slow, deep breath. Slowly, slowly let it come rushing back out. He begged his heart to stop selling him out and to settle. “I’m starving. You wanna hunt?”

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth falling open with just the tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “I would love to hunt with you, cheri,” Lestat said.

[tldrthor]

Part II: The Princess (and the chaos she brings with her) - steve rogers x princess!reader

summary: the princess gets to grips with life in the avengers tower, the captain does his best to not allow his feelings to get in the way of acting normal. everything is nice... but for how long?

part 2 // it was an honour and a privilege, for his words to reach only her ear // word count 2k

you can find part one here and here's my masterlist <3

a/n: nothing much happens in this one but i needed to set the scene! hope you enjoy this short and fluffy fic x

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Steve felt a kind of giddiness he had never felt before. It was almost nauseating; somewhere between the greatest euphoria and the deepest of depressions. He felt himself unable to bring words to his lips, when Bucky knocked on his room door to ask him how he was holding up.

“This is fucking crazy, man.” Bucky had breathed out. It seemed the same cat had got his tongue.

Steve had breathed out a half-laugh. “Yeah, it’s definitely crazy.”

He felt delirious. Dizzy with every emotion he had ever, and will ever feel. He found himself staring at the clock as time ticked by, agonisingly slowly. He fought against every instinct he had to run to her, make sure she never left his sight again.

It had been nearly 80 years since they had last seen each other. What if she had moved on? What if he was too different for her now? What if she was different?

As they had talked, it felt the same. But the talk they had had wasn't quite enough for the captain. He fought against every instinct he had to charge into her room and demand answers to the thousand questions running through his head.

His best bet would be going for a run, clear his head, work off some energy. It was a nice day outside, and a weekend so most of the agents and personnel were off-base. He shrugged on some gym clothes and headed out. He found himself lingering, as he walked past her door, trying to fend off thoughts of charging in and blurting his deepest thoughts to her.

The sound of... struggling? He could hear her, with ragged breath and the sound of what he thought was someone bumping into furniture. His eyebrows furrowed as he went into avenger mode.

"Princess?" He knocked quickly on the door, listening as he did for further sounds. As he knocked, the noises stopped. It was only through his supersoldier hearing that he could still hear her ragged breaths.

A small, breathless voice came from behind the door. "I'm okay, I'm alright!"

The captain wasn't entirely sure what to do. "Do you need help with anything?"

There was silence for a moment. And then, the lock on the door turned and she stood, once more, in front of him. Now, she was more flushed, and her hair had fallen ever so slightly out of place. The captain still thought she was the most radiant being he had ever seen.

"I... I am sorry to ask, captain. I am so used to having handmaidens that I can't get my armour off by myself." She looked away as she said it, and Steve cursed himself as a blush spread it's way over his cheeks.

"I'll help!" He said, perhaps a little too much enthusiasm behind his words. He immediately pulled it back, "or I could get Natasha, if you want."

The princess smiled at him. "It's okay, I wouldn't want to bother Miss Romanoff, if you don't mind helping?" She held the door for him and he entered her chambers. If she had been on Alfheim, or Asgard for that matter, this would have caused great scandal. For a brief moment, regardless of the circumstances, she was grateful to be back on Midgard.

She lifted her arms to show him how the chestplate connected around her torso, and he began to undo the intricate mechanism stitching it together. They were both hyper-aware of their closeness in that moment, each fighting not to think about it too much.

"It's beautiful." Steve tried to cut the silence, but his voice came out as more of a whisper. "Your armour, I mean. The carvings." He cleared his throat.

She made eye contact with him, and he nearly audibly gulped. "Thank you." As the mechanisms finally gave way, she pulled the piece over her head, holding it in front of her. "It belonged to my grandmother, the last Queen of Alfheim. They say even the stars themselves bowed to her."

Steve didn't miss the sadness layered in her voice.

"I never knew anything about your family before. It's crazy that they're kings and queens." Steve confessed.

She placed a hand, lightly on his arm. She couldn't think of what to say in response to that, but the gesture was enough. She hung the armour in the wardrobe, then began to take off her jewelry starting with her jeweled tiara. As she pulled it from her hair, he audibly gasped.

With the way her tresses fell, and covered her ears, it was like the princess disappeared and was replaced with (y/n). His (y/n). The one he ejected from the plane to save, all those years ago. The one he had mourned since he came out of the ice.

She turned to him, smiling. "You look the same, you know." She continued, "As when we last saw each other."

Steve caught a glimpse of himself in her mirror. He didn't feel the same as back then. He had been so full of hope, so naïve. The modern world made it hard to be optimistic.

"I'm older, now. You haven't aged a day." He responded.

She chuckled. "Steven, you are the same boy who jumped on the grenade at Camp Lehigh, it doesn't matter how you've aged." The kindness of her words as she said his name moved him in a way that no one had in a long time. "My people age far slower than Midgardians, so physically aging is an honour. I hope that one day, I experience the blessings of the years."

"What... what age are you?"

"Are you quite certain you want to know?" She asked, a hint of a smirk on her lips. When he nodded after a moment's hesitation, she continued; "I am 578 years old."

His jaw nearly hit the floor in shock. He looked at her features intently, his mind clawing desperately for anything to say. She didn't look a day over 25, and hadn't since the 40's.

"That's... um, pretty old." He stuttered out. Well, that was not what he had meant to say.

Her melodic laugh reached his ears and he had to admit, he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Captain, that is not a very becoming thing to say to a lady," She giggled. "I am barely a quarter of the way through my life span."

"God, sorry I didn't mean it like that, just... It's all so strange."

"I know, Captain. It is a long time in comparisons to a Midgardians life. I hope that it does not disturb you too much."

In the silence of the room, Steve suddenly became aware of the distance between them, or rather, the lack thereof. She was so close he could almost feel her breath on her face, as her eyelashes fluttered, looking up at him.

Her irresistible eyes.

He could reach out and grab her, right now. It would be easy, romantic, passionate, wonderful. He wanted to do it, badly. To feel his hands on her waist, to wrap her in his arms. He wondered, briefly, if she would tangle her hands in his hair.

In the real world, he couldn't do it. They had been apart for nearly a century, and even when they knew each other, they hadn't gotten that far. He didn't know if she still... felt that way.

His head was spinning, everything seemed to be moving too quickly and too slowly at the same time. Mayday, mayday, mayday.

He cleared his throat and moved away. Well, it was more of a jump. So much for looking normal, he thought to himself.

"We should go for dinner, uh... people will be waiting." He examined her features. She smiled politely, but her eyes betrayed something else. Was that... disappointment he detected? He was probably wishful thinking.

"Of course, Captain. I will get changed into the clothes Natasha brought for me, and then we shall go." She elegantly picked up some clothes, and wandered to the bathroom.

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

Dinner was lively as ever. At Thor's request, everyone had joined the team in the dining room for some pizza. Steve and the Princess wandered in later than everybody else, but were welcomed with cheers and laughter. It was nice.

"Princess (y/n)!" Thor boomed, motioning his friends over to two empty seats beside him. "I believe you have met everyone bar the young master Parker, over here." He pointed towards a young brunet boy, sitting rather awkwardly at the corner of the large table.

He waved, whispering a barely audible "Hi."

"Hello, Master Parker. I am (y/n) of Alfheim."

"Yeah, I heard, um. It's Peter, not Master Parker. My name I mean. If you want to- if it's your tradition or whatever you can call me that too I just... um, most of the uh avengers call me Peter, I mean." He placed a hand over his face in what even the princess understood was teen angst.

"Peter, then." She smiled politely at the young, flailing boy.

"I call him bugboy, if that's any more appeasing to you." A familiar voice parted through the din of the many, many conversations being had around the table. The princess looked to see Bucky sitting across from them, next to the man called Sam.

She laughed politely, at his joke, understanding immediately that the young avenger certainly experienced a lot of jokes at his expense.

Her attention was diverted, once again, by Mr. Stark. "Have you ever had the Midgardian delicacy of pizza, your highness?" There was a hint of sarcasm to his deference, that was not unnoticed by (y/n).

"Tony, she lived in Brooklyn in the 40s. Of course she's had pizza." Steve spoke up for her, also noticing the way Tony laced disquiet with her titles. He was being overprotective over pizza, and even though he was aware of the fact, he couldn't stop himself.

"Actually, Captain, I never got around to trying it during my time here."

A silence befell the dining room.

"What?" The harsh words came from Bucky, but it was a sentiment echoed quickly by Cap, and then young Peter.

"How could you have lived in New York for several years, and not had pizza?" Steve laughed at the Princess, who sheepishly smiled.

"I honestly did not realise it was a food, and I lived mostly on army rations anyway..." She explained.

"Oh my god, she's never lived." Sam spoke, dead-pan.

Tony finally interrupted the cacophony. "Well then, ma'am, consider this evening an education."

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The evening was lovely. The conversation (and wine) flowed, never a dull moment. Thor and the Princess dazzled with tales of their worlds and the many battles they had faced. Steve and Bucky reminisced with the Princess about the times they had shared together.

As the evening grew quieter, the Princess found herself feeling safe, for the first time in a while. She was all too aware of Cap's arm slung over the back of her chair, dangerously close to being around her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat every time he leant down to her ear, to share something only with her. It was an honour and a privilege, for his words to reach only her ear.

For the last 80 years, she had felt like she was spinning out of control. With the war, and especially the last attack, things had been worse than ever. But now, she could get used to this.

She dared, as she laughed at one of Tony's jokes, to put her head on the Captain's shoulder. As she did, she happened to catch Bucky's eye - he smiled and winked.

Yeah, she could definitely get used to this.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't get the chance to.

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== TAGLIST ==

@vicmc624 @jvdgement @capswife @megluv1 @moviegurl2002 @aliciaasky @yiiiikesmish

i tagged everyone who said they wanted part 2, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist at any point! thanks so much for your support on the first part x

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Some more Optimus and Bumblebee thoughts <3

I've been working on an entirely different post about Megsy and Bee recently (it's gotten loooong), but I've been struck by some ideas for these two in the meantime. Part 3 of my ✨Adult✨ Bee and OP Found Family bc hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh brain rot. 1 & 2 bc you're not getting context here.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Father and Son. Best friends. Partners in Crime. Two peas in a pod. If lost please return to Optimus I am Optimus. If lost in jail please return to Optimus I am Optimus not posting bail again... I get us into trouble I make it worse get us out of trouble.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Imagine, I m a g i n e, the first time Bumblebee protected Optimus. Like real protect, like "Optimus will die if I don't fight here" protect. Imagine. We all know that Optimus is a real force to be reckoned with, do not fuck with him when he's angry. But hell hath seen no fury like a short kind man's wrath (the short is relative but you get it).

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Optimus has anxiety, Bumblebee has depression. Somehow they both help cure the other, just by existing.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Take the norm and flip it like a waterbottle. Bumblebee is the one to adopt Optimus. Is Optimus older than him? Irrelevant and useless information, Bumblebee is a father now.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Rando: Why is Bumblebee standing on your shoulders?

OP: He likes to be tall.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

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(I've had age swap stuff on the mind as of late, so enjoy.)

Older Bee is like an old cowboy, he's confident, sassy, not afraid of death (bc ~depression~), a wicked good shot, could drink bots twice his size under the table (make him 10 feet tall or 30 feet tall, either way it's funny), and could charm your socks clean off. Imagine a cowboy stereotype. That's older Bee.

Orion Pax, as we all know, is a tightly wound ball of Fight or Flight Anxiety. You don't know if he's gonna break into a dead sprint or flatten you with a right hook. Either way, please don't stress him out, he doesn't want to go to jail again, he has work tomorrow.

When you put the two together, somehow Orion has less anxiety. No one understands it. Bee is an agent of chaos, he gets into fist fights bc they're fun, he cheats in every card game he plays (that go fish game was wild), but for some reason Orion just relaxes around him. And he's done a lot more breaking and entering, which normally would be concerning but Bee's got his back if things go south, it's fine. Bumblebee actually starts putting effort into existing again (depression is a bitch) and starts doing things other than drinking. It's fun, he hasn't had this much fun in years. And he can absolutely vibe with being a dad. Yes, his son is already an adult; that just means he missed out on the hard shit and got to skip right to the fun bit.

My brain won't word for some reason, just take every scenario I've already laid out and swap it to this.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I was reading Prey by Yatzstar (Banger Babee and Dadimus one, by the way, short and sweet), and I thought, "What if: this, but big" and now we're here. Go give some love to the fic first; I'm just remixing the end, not plagiarizing. (Italics are copied from fic directly, I needed a starting point.)

For several long moments, there was silence.

Then in the darkness, something stirred. Twin points of blue appeared, blinking against the dust, and headlights flickered on to reveal an enormous crimson mech. And draped across his lap was a smaller yellow mech.

Optimus massaged his throat, his voice box aching. A sparking noise drags his attention downward. The yellow mech lets out a noise of pain as the wound in his side sparked again. Optimus's optics narrow in concern.

"I'm good, big-bot," Bumblebee says through gritted denta, "wire just slipped."

Optimus lets his servo hover above Bumblebee's side, waiting for permission. Bumblebee shifts to allow the larger bot access to his injury. Two exposed wires were nearly touching, electricity arcing between them. Optimus pinches one and gently pulls it away from the other, and Bumblebee sighs in relief. Optimus lets the wire go when he's sure it won't slip back.

The building around them shifts slightly and dust falls from the ceiling.

"Absolutely horrific noises, by the way, you should make them more often."

Optimus looks down at Bumblebee with a raised optic ridge. "My voice box would cease functioning if I did that more than once."

"Probably, but if it got reactions like that, I think it's worth it."

Optimus rolls his optics at Bumblebee's smirk, a small smile creeping onto his faceplate. "I believe we will be here a while, just until the coast is clear."

"You can tell me how you made those noises while we wait!"

"I am not telling you that."

"Aw, come on, it'd be funny!"

(Holy shit, I kept it short, it's a fucking miracle. And it's properly formated? What demon possessed me)

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Optimus's chaos is much subtler than Bee's. Quiet one-liners, dead pan responses, (Hey Optimus, you wanna see something funny? No?) And Yes, he does in fact do this stuff on purpose. he's not just a stoick monolith, he likes having fun. Does Bumblebee encourage it? Yes absolutely why wouldn't he. It fucking hysterical. The best one they've done so far is gaslight several people that Optimus knew while he was Orion into thinking they are actually related. Yes he is my son, yes your math is correct he was born when I worked at Iacon. What do you mean you don't remember him he was 100% there you must be misremembering, I would get that checked out. They usually do this to Megatron for some reason.

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I can not be asked to elaborate. Y'all are smart, figure it out yourself.

(the cheat, btw)

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One day, random fucking day in the week, Optimus was looking through some old photos. Photos of him and Megatron. Why? Couldn't fucking tell you, maybe he wanted to make himself feel bad, who fucking knows. But he was looking, and he was in his feelings. He wasn't crying, he had done his crying years ago, but he was feeling bad. and he just keeps looking at himself in these photos; how happy he was, how unaware of the shit that was about to go down, and just- hurts inside. Later that night, he's in a bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He thinks about the old photos of him and how little he's changed. Barely anything has changed, he's still got the same haircut, the same style of clothes, the same everything. This needs to change. But not yet (the anxiety is ~spiking~).

Eventually, Optimus is in a drug store staring at the hair dye. He is considering just stealing it at this point because buying it feels like admitting something, and Optimus is Not Readytm to admit shit. He is very normal about his feelings, don't you know. And he can't decide which colour to get. He is having a C r i s i s. Eventually he syces himself up and just gets a red and a blue dye. He then proceeds to shove the dye under his bathroom sink and refuses to think about it. For several weeks. He's so normal guys, I promise-

Bumblebee dyes his hair bright fucking yellow. What, did you think his highlighter yellow hair colour was natural? Get real, he works hard to keep it this obnoxiously bright. He has to touch up the colour every once in a while, and every time, he offers to do anyone's hair as well if they bring their own dye. He's been doing it himself for years. One night, after getting back from a long mission. It's kind of late, most of the base is in their rooms probably sleeping, and Bee is winding down by touching up his roots. Optimus nervously approaches with his red and blue dye in hand. Bumblebee notices his approach and pauses. Bee waits for Optimus to say something (he doesn't). They stand there staring at each other in awkward silence. Bumblebee asks if Optimus wants to dye his hair. Thank god Bumblebee is a mind reader.

Bumblebee channels his inner hairdresser and begins bleaching Optimus's hair. Yes, he is doing the voice. Optimus doesn't say anything the entire time, he just looks at his lap. Bumblebee doesn't ask why Optimus wants to dye his hair, because Bee is a homie, and homies don't need to ask; they just know. Homies also know how to deal with you when you go non-verbal; Bumblebee grabs the boxes and uses them to ask how Optimus wants the colours to be. Optimus gives a thumbs up to red on top and blue around the sides. Ooh, good choice, honey, now I hope you don't care about this shirt too much. Optimus walks out of the bathroom with a brand new head of hair and some black towels to put on his pillows ("If you don't take the towels, you will wake up with beautiful new lilac pillowcases in the morning. And don't wear light colours for like a week. Now go sleep, it's past your bedtime.") Optimus says a quiet thank you and scurries away, triumphant in his month-and-a-half long quest.

The next morning is uneventful. There are a few double takes when people notice their leader's new plumage and a few compliments here and there, but no one asks why. When Optimus looks at his reflection, he can't help but smile a bit. Bumblebee manages to snatch a few selfies with him, saying they are "Primary Colour Duo" now.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A bunch of shitty things I made in powerpoint bc I'm unstoppable

[pascallatte]

Payback

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: a behind the scene moment, filmed by Pedro himself. A closer look at the chaos that happens in between takes.

Date: Nov 2016

Warning/s: none just pure old fluff

A/N: Yeahhhhh, why does it feel so long since I've posted something?? Also, Twitter fics will be posted a day after the main fic is posted (will post more info soon). Anyways, here I am again with a new fic, hope you enjoy this like you did with my past ones!! Happy reading.

The set of narcos on and off screen can be described as…chaotic. It may be because of the cast themselves. The teasing, between Pedro and you, is something that isn’t new. And with Pedro posting on Instagram another one of those videos you and him, while preparing for the second season, fans can think that their game still hasn’t been set straight. This leads us to this, to which fans say the Normalcy of the relationship between you and Pedro.

Caption

@yourusername, always gives me a hard time while shooting, it’s payback time.❤️ #NarcosSeason2 #Netflix 

As soon as the video started, it blinded whoever was watching because of the intense light that was given by the sun that day. Pedro, who was recording, panned the phone around to catch a small behind-the-scenes look. Clearing his throat he flips the camera to show himself, fully clothed as the hardcore agent, Javier Pena.

“Hello, I was given the chance to go on break while they,” points to you and Boyd behind him, who was talking to one of the producers, “shoot some more things. While waiting, I’m just going to sit in this chair and eat what I can.” He gets comfortable on his designated make-up chair reaching for some snacks before popping them in his mouth. 

“Why eat what I can? Its because-, “ flips the phone to you and zooms in on your red sweat-covered face, which actually still looked good despite being under the sun for almost the whole day,”-‘cause, ducky over there would come here, soon, and take all these-these snacks, especially these small cheese filled biscuits. She likes them.” He whispers to himself or rather the camera, during the last part.

The phone almost slips from his hands as he tries to zoom in for a closer view, which he gets. You and Boyd were seen smiling to the crew as you walked in his direction, presumably already given the signal for you to be able to take a break. Still far, he follows your move as you walk towards him looking straight past the camera at him, smiling and waving. Unconsciously he whispers to himself, “Ah tan bonita, bebe.” So pretty, baby.

You were stopped just a few feet away from him by a staff member, allowing him to hide the phone while still being able to record the whole thing. Placing it down in front of him and flips to see Pedro leaning on the armrest. Turning to look at you, with a look that tells that he's waiting for you to look at him as he gives an adoring look towards your direction. 

“Hola Pedrito,” you said in a soft tired voice. Your voice was heard first receiving a smile from Pedro as you circle around his chair and hug him from behind, whispering to him as he looked at you nodding. The camera was then fixed to see the two of you, you hugging Pedro from behind, a small peck placed on his cheek. You were seen smiling at him before you take a sip from the drink that he has offered you. 

Just noticing the camera, you turn your head to him, gesturing to the phone that he’d set up. As you stood straight, taking his drink with you. Raising a brow, giving him a questioning look, “¿qué estás haciendo?” what are you doing?

Grinning up at you, he subtlely reached for your hand, making sure it wasn’t seen on tape, “Te estoy grabando.” I'm recording you. 

“¿Desde cuando?” a nervous chuckle escaped you, fighting the panicked look that was about to escape you, knowing what this was all about now. Since when?

He laughs at your expression, reaching up for his drink and responding with a “Desde antes de que llamaran a un descanso.” Making you raise the drink-filled cup away from him. Since before they called for a break.

Setting the cup somewhere out of the frame, you came back to look at him suddenly slapping his thighs and walking away mumbling, “Ayayay Pedro.”

An amused “Why?!” was heard from him before the video ended. And if that wasn't enough, it was followed by another one.

You were now sitting next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, still enjoying the break given to you. In the entirety of the video, you were seen reaching into the same bags of chips or bowls of candies that he reaches for, getting the same thing he already has. And not only the food but also the drinks.

Besides you copying every bite or drink he does, you also copy his gestures. From the eyebrow-raising to adjusting himself in his seat, the hair flips, and the most iconic, as you call it, brushing-of-the-mustache.

It wasn’t that Pedro wasn’t aware of your antics, he just thought that it was a coincidence. So when he sees you do the gesture on your invisible moustache as well as drinking from a cup, he knows that you were on to something. And he’s going to stop it before it even happens.

Pedro calls your name out of the blue, unaware that he already knows, and calls out his name too.

“Y/n.”

“Pedro.”

He stares at you. Long enough to make you falter and tilt your head in confusion. Still making eye contact he takes a sip, in which you copy (obviously).

He grunts at what seems like a confirmation to him as he was seen nodding his head. Placing his cup down in front of the phone camera, he leans closer to you.

“Stop copying me.”

Letting out a soft laugh, “What? I’m not.” You feigned innocence backing up as he leans in closer. You look to your left at the camera, shaking your head.

You were only able to hear a short “Okay,” before you were pulled to the side as Pedro’s arm softly pulls you to him. Now laughing, you try to move away by hitting his torso and pulling his arm. But you just stayed in place, sadly for you.

“You can’t copy me now, can’t you?” He teases as he looks down at you, who was huffing out a breath hands on the forearm around your neck.

“Isn’t this abuse?” You lightly said, jabbing his chest. Causing him to loosen his hold a bit, allowing you to look at him. And to your surprise, you were closer than what you’d imagined, almost nose to nose.

“Nope,” he whispers before tightening his hold on now your shoulders, how it got there is something you don’t have a clue on. Squeezing you tightly, Pedro leans back on his chair making the two of you topple down, laughs and wheezes were heard before the phone was taken by Pedro to show you on the floor still laughing your hair covering your face.

The short video ended with a very…funny, or you'd like to say "a disgrace of a shot," close-up of your face all red from the laughing.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina @namgification @mmkkzz (bolded blog/s: I can't seem to find you guys' accounts but I'll still tag in case it works)

[silent-sanctum]

I hope you're doing fine mijin🤩💗....

Can I request a fic where the stone ocean group survives and jotaro meets his wife(the reader) or ex wife that's upto you

Aha! A 2-for-1 special! Also, hiya @jotarosimpforever and to you too anon 👋 I'm doing fine thank you! Sorry it took this long to answer your requests, I'm currently on vacation so I was busy doing stuff 🫡 But here it is! A post-Stone Ocean fic featuring domestic times with our favorite DILF 6taro 😘 Hope you enjoy ♡

Way Home - Part 6! Jotaro x Reader

word count: 3.3k

“Breaking news: The recent events people termed as the “Shifting Skies Phenomenon” comes to an abrupt halt, resulting in mass casualty midst the confusion of countless civilians worldwide”

The scene was in complete chaos just the way it was for the past few hours. Where it was due to destruction as the heavens changed hues, from burning autumn to midnight void and back in a blink of the eye, now everything and everyone were in complete loss of control, emergency respondents dispatched to numerous vehicular accidents and spontaneous locations with crowds sporting spontaneous injuries.

Where others wouldn’t know what else to brand this phenomenon but “otherworldly”, you knew it as a catastrophic Stand attack.

And you’d come to know these information because of none other than your own husband- A solitary individual who opted to keep his responsibilities a secret from the people he loved, to sacrifice his happiness and suffer a life of “kill-or-be-killed” if it meant giving his family the normal life he could never have.

If it weren’t for circumstances that got yourself involved in one of these Stand encounters, you wouldn’t find yourself falling into the rabbit hole that was learning the nature of Stands, and eventually taking up a managerial role in an exclusive private organization as one of their agents. If it weren’t for that eventful day, you wouldn’t be able to meet Jotaro.

That stoic, abrasive, yet loving man…

Images of him smiling at you with fondness glazing his sharp blue eyes flashed in your mind as you imagined the same man charging head first into the battlefield to save and protect his and your only daughter from this grand scale threat.

And with the sky and the Earth’s gravity returning back to its usual state, you should be relieved knowing the enemy was defeated.

But without being there to witness how it ended, you gave into overthinking, imagining the repercussions that were dealt to achieve the cost of such victory.

As if snapping back to reality, you found yourself running through a plethora of bustling Speedwagon Foundation employees, almost crazed and frantic. The organization was just as rushed and busy as the rest of the world was with one half of the Foundation attempting to get shit under control by getting in-contact with non-government networks for aid and support, and the other half accommodating injured civilians to help reduce the local hospitals from overcrowding.

And just as what’s written in paper, you’ve received information that a chopper had just arrived with 2 members of the Joestar family onboard, injured from a fatal fight. You wasted not even a split second to bolt from the safety of your room and here in the private foundation’s building.

You rounded a corner, pushing past a couple more of people until you were met with a signage that read “Medical Wing”. You’ve studied the place’s layout enough times since Jotaro first brought you here during your orientation. While the place crowded with panicked and wounded civilians, you knew that the Foundation had exclusive areas and services reserved for the convenience of the Joestar bloodline.

Frustrated, you were desperate enough to seek the first nurse you could see and ask where her family was, but you’d find out that wouldn’t happen. Your hurried steps led you to the emergency room and instead of a random nurse, your attention landed on a teenage girl with messy space buns and torn clothing sitting on one of the benches lining the hallway leading to the operating room.

With one arm in a cast and her waist bandaged, the young girl had her free hand curled into a fist, head bowed as she struggled to hold back her sobs.

At the sight of her, your eyes welled up with tears. “Jolyne…”

In an instant, she jerked her head upright at the sound of her name. It took her a couple of seconds before she saw you standing a few feet away from her. Like mother and daughter, Jolyne’s face crumpled into one of sadness, the tears that she held back now rolling down her cheeks. “Eomma-”

You crossed whatever distance was between you and your child and brought her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m really sorry mom.”

With ease, you withdrew enough for you to do another quick scan over her body. “Are you hurt bad?” You grasped her shoulders with a hand, the other reaching up to cup her wet cheeks. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Your questions only sent Jolyne into another sob, breaking into tears the second you showed your extreme concerns. “I-I’m fine, but appa-”

You paused. “What… What happened to him?”

“He protected me, my friends, b-but…” She furiously swiped at her eyes despite her sobs. “He’s injured the most. He was bleeding everywhere and now-”

You kept yourself as calm as possible, even if you were on the brink of collapsing yourself. “Where is he?” Jolyne pointed to the double doors leading to the operating room.

Your heart caved in at the thought of your husband laying unconscious being worked on by surgeons and nurses to preserve his life. With a heavy and shaky sigh, you nodded as you willed yourself to not cry in front of your daughter.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” Jolyne cried. “I’m sorry for letting that stupid accident with that asshole happen that led to dad going through all this bullshit for me-”

You quieted her as you pulled her into another hug, softly caressing her head. “It’s not your fault, pearl,” you said with a whisper. She continued to sob as she buried her face on your shoulder. “Your father knows that too.”

Gently, you led your daughter to one of the benches and sat her down with you beside her. Considering you’d thought the worst before arriving at the Foundation, you looked at the closed double doors with a newfound sense of reassurance. Another sigh.

“Let’s just wait and hope for the best.”

---

The consistent beeping of his vitals echoed throughout the dimmed room and you were left alone with Jotaro, still unconscious with half of his face heavily bandaged together with his throat, an oxygen mask fit on his nose and mouth.

Jolyne visited minutes earlier and told you that she’d be checking with how her other friends were doing.

An hour ago, you and Jolyne stood up immediately as soon as the surgeon stepped through the swinging doors. To everyone’s relief, they managed to stabilize him from his critical state.

According to him, your husband had a pre-existing heart condition that caused his pulse rate to beat at irregular, rapid intervals. Combined with the knowledge of him having to exert excessive strength despite waking up from a comatose state and the heavy amount of stress piling up the past few months, his body had chosen to shut down the second his adrenaline depleted.

Thinking about that again made you scoff through your tears. “You were always an impulsive idiot…” Saying those words caused your eyes to swell again and sniffle.

But what’s done was done. The doctors did what they could and all you can do was to sit beside him, holding his hand with both of yours, praying that he’d recover faster, enough for him to wake up and calm your worrying heart.

Without realizing, you ended up falling asleep still sat on your chair by his bed. You didn’t know how long time has passed in your slumber and you couldn’t be bothered to find out. All that mattered right now was staying by your husband’s side, letting him know, in spirit perhaps, that he wasn’t alone and that you were with him now.

In a way you couldn’t perceive, you somehow felt like he was comforting you as well. A comforting chill would brush against your cheeks, hair, shoulders, or hands and you welcomed the sensation like an old friend.

Eventually, time would pass from mere hours to days and throughout it all, you continued to stay where you were- always making sure to watch over him with persisting hope.

Today marked the 15th day since his admission in the Foundation’s infirmary ward. His fresh bandages still wrapped around the half of his face and throat. His assistive oxygenation was removed the week prior once his vitals stabilized within normal range.

By now, you stayed so much in the medical room that your responsibilities started to catch up as evident with the numerous phone calls and text messages alerting you from your pocket. You figured you’d answer a few and explain the circumstances surrounding you and your family.

That time, you stood by the window hoping to receive better signal. You were in the middle of arguing with a non-compliant employee that worked under your supervision, and through their whining in the speaker, you picked up the sheets shifting behind you.

On that cue, you turned around with supposed foolish hope but in clear daylight, there he was- stirring into consciousness, brows furrowing and scrunching as his eye slowly opened.

You never hung up on someone this fast before but you dropped whatever conversation you had and rushed over to Jotaro’s side, immediately reaching to grasp his hand. It took him a bit to adjust to the natural light, but he lolled his head to you and locked eye contact with you.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Jotaro-ssi?” With a weak baritone voice, he croaked back your name with instant familiarity. Your eyes welled with new tears. Right then and there, he grunted as he struggled to prop himself upright. “W-What are you doing? You just woke up. You’re supposed to rest!”

At this point, you didn’t realize you started crying when you light-heartedly scolded him. You gripped his hand tight with frustration and relief, teardrops spilling onto your skin. He’s awake. Thank god he’s awake. “Do you know how much of an idiot you are?! I told you you shouldn’t jump into dangerous situations so recklessly! And now look at you! You should be taking your time and recover lying down and here you are forcing yourself to sit! You really are an idiot-”

“I missed you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and whatever ramble you had left trailed off into the thin air. Jotaro sat there patiently, watching you wistfully with hooded eyes. In your hand, he turned his palm upwards and interlocked his fingers with yours. He had that usual air of stoicism in his expression, but there was no mistaking the wet sheen glossing over his aquamarine eyes.

That was all it took for you to break into a sob as you gently wrapped your arms around him in a soft embrace. You felt him tuck his face against the crook of your neck, his tears pooling on your skin in silence. “Next time, tell me at least. Alright?”

“Mm…”

“Don’t scare me like that again, you hear?”

“I’m sorry…”

“You ass.”

---

It’s been 6 months since then and after the chaos had settled across the nation, the Kujos returned to their seaside villa, settling in for the time being to adjust to the new life after the time phenomenon.

Slowly but surely, every member of the family began to live their lives the way they wanted to- Jolyne would often leave the house to hang out with her best friend Ermes and potential boyfriend Anasui, one day bringing home a kid in baseball uniform named Emporio waiting to be adopted into the family, you returned to work to help the other agents in the Foundation, and Jotaro begun to resume teaching in university, choosing to take a break from field research to give him time to rest.

And considering the stress of the whole Stand ordeal they had dealt with since they were 17, you could get used to a mundane life like this.

The early morning sun beamed a warm orange, filtered through the curtains before it could touch both you and your husband. You opened your eyes to find yourself side-lying on his arm to face a still-sleeping Jotaro, tucked bare-chested underneath the sheets with his face mushed against the pillows

You huffed and snuggled closer, nuzzling to bury your nose on the crook of his neck. With a feather-light touch, you raised an index finger to gingerly trace the faded scar across his throat, the shallow dents across his collarbone, the scar on his left shoulder, and the one on his abdomen. One-by-one, you took the time to feel the skin of each in contrast to the rest. “You’ve been through so much…”

He stirred possibly from your tiny motions and soon enough, the arm you lied on curled in to pull you into his hold.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked up to see your husband glance at you with sleep-ridden eyes. You propped yourself on his chest and with your chin planted on your overlapped hands flat on his pecs, you whispered out a simple, intentionally-cute “Good morning~”

Jotaro smiled back. “Morning.”

“Break day?”

He nodded.

Life never felt so ordinary after what had happened but you could get used to this. Where every moment in this new era, they could live out the rest of their lives as a normal couple with a normal family.

And what’s a better way to start their new lives but with the domesticity of a newlywed pair.

Both you and Jotaro started the day accomplishing your morning routines- you in the bathroom washing up, he on the balcony to simply soak in the early morning sun. You made your way to the dining area where he stood by waiting for you with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. You took one, returned the favor with a chaste peck on his cheek, and went over to cook breakfast for the family.

On cue with the smell of bacon and eggs permeating throughout the house, two pairs of footsteps bounded down the stairs and barged into the area.

“Well good morning to you too Jolyne,” you glanced at her companion with a smile. “Emporio.”

“Going out again?” Jotaro said, glancing at the duo. “This early?”

“Ermes is gonna go shopping for the new line of clothes that got released yesterday. She invited me and Emporio over saying it’s going to be ‘her treat’, but I know she’s lying,” Jolyne said, picking up a toast from her plate and another to offer her adopted brother.

“Is that pink-haired guy going?”

“His name’s Anasui dad and no, he’s not going,” she puffed her chest. “It’s girl’s day out today.” You and Jotaro looked at the blond boy beside her. “He’s not tagging along. I’m just dropping off Emporio at the nearby bookstore on the way out.”

“And I can find my way back no problem,” Emporio said as the teenager slowly pulled him with her to the door. “I won’t take too long.”

Jotaro still had his doubts from where he was on his seat, but knowing your little girl was able to survive a life of imprisonment and was able to get around the harsh facility, you smiled at her. “Alright. Be back by 9!”

“I will!”

Once the duo were out of sight, you and Jotaro were left alone to themselves. “Nothing like seeing your kids all grown up, huh?” You said as you took a bite of your eggs. He hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “But that just means we have the day to ourselves.”

At that, your husband couldn’t help but smile.

And just as you said, the rest of today consisted of simply staying indoors and “hanging-out” with each other in a life of old-couple domesticity. You cooked the meals and he washed the dishes. You did the laundry and he helped in folding them. You dusted the shelves and he vacuumed the floors. You picked today’s playlist to listen while doing chores and he chose what movie to watch.

Then there were instances in-between chores where either of you can’t help but hover close to one another, seeking each other’s touch and affections. May it be when you’re cooking and Jotaro passes by stealing a piece of sliced vegetable, you sneaking behind to pat his ass when he’s drying the plates, him momentarily resting his chin on your head as you wait for the washing machine to finish, him offering you a glass of water in the middle of dusting, or ending up in a never-ending banter over genres of media.

By the time they finished everything, including the short time freshening up, the afternoon began its transition to night as the skies changed its hue from blue to orange.

You shared one look with your husband and with one wistful stare, he rose a hand to you and you held it. With no worries plaguing your mind, you and Jotaro slowly walked down the stairs to the coast, hand-in-hand. A gentle breeze blew a strand of hair across your face and before you could, he tucked it behind your ear.

Both of you walked across the sand until you stopped a few meters away from the gentle waves.

Jotaro took the initiative to break apart from you, only to step behind and engulf your body with his long coat with his hands still in its pockets. You smiled and leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes as you do so.

For a few minutes, the couple simply stood by, basking in the ambiance- the refreshing sea breeze against your skin, the soothing crash of waves, the birds chirping above. The sea was your comfort place after all, and it was his too. Despite it being months later, you cherished every calm walk such as this as if it was the last.

You’ve never felt at peace this much. It was so nice.

“23 years…” You glanced up at Jotaro when he spoke. “For 23 years of us knowing each other, finally… Finally we can just live like this.”

You chuckled. “Makes it seem like we’ve just been married and this is our honeymoon even though it’s been years.”

“We’ve been fighting the world for most of our lives. Is it strange that until now, I’m still not used to this kind of ‘quiet’? As if I’m cautious that someone could appear at any moment?”

You shook your head, your gaze drifting to the horizon as you thought of your next words. “It’s not. It’ll take some time for us to adjust to this new normal. For all our habitual anxiety to disappear. Hell, it might not go away entirely.”

“But I can assure you this-”

You stepped out of his coat and turned to face him. From this angle, you looked at Jotaro with a smile bearing all the gooey fondness you had in your heart. Gingerly, you rose a hand to his face and with tender care, traced the vertical scar lining the right side of his face. From the top of his brow, down to his blind eye, until your fingers stopped at the bold line of his jaw.

Only then, your hand returned to cup his cheek with your thumb stroking the smooth line of his scar. “Whatever may happens next, I’ll be there with you. Work, people, lingering Stand users… I’ll stay by your side, hm?”

With hooded eyes, Jotaro leaned against your palm and laid his hand over yours. “I can’t say much to change your mind anyways.” He huffed. “You were always so stubborn.”

You chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting on to your tiptoes, you planted a soft kiss over his cheek, nose, and his lips last, to which you lingered on for a second longer. Pulling away, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face on his chest.

“Our lives are finally ours, starlight.”

You closed your eyes as you felt him tuck his chin on top of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, and a hand caressing the back of your head.

“Then let’s live them together, sunshine.”

[lizhaoyu]

Nightowl's Birthday Special: Shadows and Snow

(A/N: Welcome to my Birthday Special Fanfiction~ How are you guys doing? My birthday was on August 10! I know, I'm months late. But I hope you guys still enjoy this fanfiction nonetheless.)

(I gave the reader ice abilities, and Iso some shadow abilities because imagining Iso with shadow abilities makes me cum. I know. It will probably make you too.)

GN!Reader x Iso

TW: Obsession (I love the obsession trope. It's my birthday special, so I decided to make it my favorite trope. I made the reader SUPER COOL and SUPER NONCHALANT at first because why not.)

The streets were alive with chaos. Explosions shook the ground, and gunfire echoed in every corner. The enemy had unleashed their most dangerous weapon, and the mission seemed doomed.

Amid the chaos, you moved like a ghost. Your ice-coated boots barely made a sound through the broken remains of a building, your eyes scanning every shadow.

Suddenly, a movement caught your attention. A figure darted through the smoke, fast and fluid. But something was off. The way they stumbled. You grip your Vandal tighter and creep forward.

Just as you were about to turn a corner, you heard a groan. You peer through the smoke and debris and see him—Iso. The notorious agent, known for his ability to manipulate shadows and disappear at will, was on his knees, bleeding from a deep gash on his side.

You froze. You heard about him. The lone wolf. The assassin who never worked with anyone. But right now, Iso didn't look invincible. He looked human. And vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you rush to his side. You crouch next to him, your hands glowing faintly with ice energy as you press them to his wound, slowing the bleeding.

Iso's eyes snapped open, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun, but his vision blurred as he recognized the figure kneeling beside him.

"It's you..." he rasped, barely able to form words.

"Stay still," you command, your voice cold but steady as your icy powers worked to freeze the blood long enough for him to heal. "You're lucky I found you."

You ignore the comment, focusing on stabilizing him. Iso watched you work, fascinated by the contrast of your delicate hands and the deadly power you wield.

Something was mesmerizing about your calm under pressure. As you work, the world seems to fade away in Iso's eyes. He found himself staring, the pain in his side forgotten for a moment.

You glanced at him. "You'll live, but you owe me one."

Iso chuckled, though it was cut short by the pain. "I don't... like owing people."

"You'll get over it." You scoff, standing up.

-

The mission was somehow completed. Both you and Iso had made it out alive, though barely. Days later, back at base, Iso couldn't get you out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you — the way your icy powers had flowed through your hands with such precision, the way you had saved him without hesitation.

It gnawed at him. He wasn't used to needing anyone, let alone being saved by someone.

He found himself wandering the halls of the base, looking for you. Obsessing over his and your encounter, replaying it over and over again. He knew he should be focusing on his recovery, on the next mission, but you had become a fixation.

He wanted to understand — this mysterious person who had appeared in his life at his most vulnerable moment.

When he finally found you, you were in the training room, perfecting your aim. Your breath was steady, your movements fluid as you fired shot after shot with pinpoint accuracy. Iso watched from the shadows, his haze never leaving you.

"You always watch from the dark, or are you planning on saying something this time?" Your voice broke the silence, your eyes never leaving your target.

Iso smirked, stepping into the light. "You noticed."

"I always notice," You replied coolly, finally turning to face him. "What do you want?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't used to wanting anything from anyone. But this... this was different.

"You saved me," he said after a pause, his voice low. "I don't forget things like that."

You tilt your head slightly, your expression unreadable. "You're welcome."

There was a moment of silence. Iso, normally quick with a retort, found himself at a loss for words. His obsession with you was growing by the minute, and he didn't understand it. All he knew was that he needed to be near you. To figure you out. To see if the ice-cold interior you showed to the world was real, or if there was something more beneath it.

You sense his inner turmoil, narrowing your eyes. "You're not used to people helping you, are you?"

Iso clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "No."

"Then stop following me around," You say bluntly, turning back to your target. "I'm not one of your shadows."

Your words stung, but Iso wasn't deterred. Instead, they fueled his obsession. He wanted to know why you had saved him, why you had chosen to help someone like him.

And more than that, he wanted to understand your identity behind the ice.

-

Over the next few weeks, Iso's fixation on you only deepened. He found excuses to train with you, to be in the same missions, always watching you, always drawn to the cold precision in which you operated. You intrigued him in a way no one ever had, and that both frustrated and thrilled him.

You, for your part, remained as distant as ever, though you couldn't deny the strange pull you felt towards Iso. He was reckless, unpredictable, and everything you usually despised in a teammate. Yet, there was something about the way he looked at you, the intensity in his gaze, that made you pause.

It wasn't long before Iso's obsession became undeniable, even to him.

One night, after a particularly grueling mission, Iso cornered you in the empty hallways of the base. His eyes, dark and intense, more into yours as he finally voiced the thoughts that had been consuming him.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed, his voice rough. "You saved me. And now... I can't stay away."

Your heart raced, though your expression remained calm. "You're confusing gratitude with something else."

"No," Iso growled, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's more than that."

You met his gaze, ice meeting shadow, and for the first time, you didn't have a quick reply. The tension between them crackled, and the lines between the mission and obsession blurred.

Iso's expression darkened, his hand gently brushing your arm. "I don't want to conquer you. I just want... to understand."

You pulled away, your eyes cold and conflicted. "Then stop trying so hard."

But as you walked away, Iso knew it was too late. He was already too deep. And somehow, he sensed that beneath your icy walls, you were just as trapped in this dangerous game as he was.

-

The tension between you and Iso grew thicker with each passing day, yet something in you had begun to shift. Where once Iso's constant presence had felt suffocating, now it was... familiar. You could sense him before he entered a room, always lurking in the shadows, waiting, watching.

It was unnerving, yes, but there was a strange comfort in his obsession.

You had always been alone, used to standing apart from the others. Your ice powers isolated you, both physically and emotionally. Most of your teammates respected you, but none dared to come too close.

Until Iso.

At first, you tolerated his fixation, thinking it would pass. But now you begin to wonder if, in some twisted way, Iso understood you. He wasn't afraid of the cold, the distance. He wasn't put off by your silence or the walls you kept around yourself.

Instead, he seemed drawn to it, captivated by your very detachment.

It wasn't long before you stopped pushing him away.

-

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you were sitting in the quiet of your room, your mind replaying the events of the day. You had barely noticed Iso slipping into the room, as silent as a shadow, until he was standing in front of you.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, though your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his dark, intense gaze. You knew you should tell him to leave, set boundaries, and stop this before it spiraled further.

But something inside you couldn't. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the mission or the loneliness that had been creeping into your heart for far too long.

"You're obsessed with me," you say simply, but without accusation.

Iso didn't deny it. "I am."

"And you're not going to stop, are you?"

He shook his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "No."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him. The old you—the you that had thrived on isolation—would have iced him out long ago. But something about Iso's unwavering devotion had worn you down. Maybe it was the intensity, the way he never faltered in his obsession.

Or maybe it was that part of you, the part that you tried so hard to keep frozen, that longed for connection.

"You're a fool," you said softly.

Iso knelt in front of you, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe. But I'm your fool."

You felt a small, almost imperceptible crack in the ice around your heart. You should have stopped this—should have pulled away before it became something darker, something dangerous.

But instead, you let him stay. His presence was suffocating, yes, but it was also strangely comforting. He was there, always there, and for once, you didn't feel completely alone.

You didn't speak as Iso reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against your cold skin. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine, though you kept your face composed.

"I can't stay away from you," Iso whispered, his voice raw with need. "I don't want to."

Your eyes flicked to his, your usual icy exterior melting just a fraction. "Then don't."

For the first time, you let him in. Just a little. It wasn't love, not yet, but it was something—something that tugged at the cold, hard edges of your soul. Iso's obsession was dark, unhealthy even, but there was a part of you that welcomed it, needed it. Maybe you had been in the cold for too long.

Iso smiled, a rare softness in his features as he realized what just happened. You had accepted him, accepted his obsession. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "I'll always be here."

"I know," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For better or for worse, you had let Iso in. You knew it wouldn't be easy, knowing that his fixation on you was more dangerous than he let on. But for now, you had let yourself sink into the darkness of it, letting the shadows close in around you both.

For the first time in a long time, you weren't entirely alone.

-

(A/N: How was this? Thank you for the support, everyone! Obsession is one of my favorite tropes, and I hope you guys like this one too.)

[gluedwithgold]

Agent of Chaos AU lineup Pt 1: Cult of Chaos

This is the MAIN main cast of the AoC AU (Yes Leshy is in the main cast but he isn't visibly present most of the time). Agares, Valefar, Amdusias, and Barbatos are the last remaining followers of Leshy before his imprisonment, I like to call them the Og four. After Fawn took on the crown and role of chaos god, these four became their babysitters and have been helping Fawn rebuild the cult of chaos.

Agares is the oldest out of the four and was Leshy's first truly devoted follower. The imprisonment of his god hit Agares hard, he has become a lot more closed off towards the others and ESPECIALLY dismissive towards Fawn, seeing them as a false idol and trying to replace his precious Leshy.

Valefar is the mom of the group (and my personal favorite), she is the glue that keeps the group together as well as keeps their cult together. Originally she was a follower of Heket but left the old faith to join Leshy. Valefar is a strong, confident woman and I reaaally enjoy drawing her!

Amdusias has no braincells. Their head is completely empty and their character in this Au is entirely based on my own experience with them while playing cotl. Am always has a smile on their face and is always ready to go along with whatever shenanigans Fawn comes up with.

Barbatos is silent, being almost completely mute and speaks either through sign language or through the chattering of their head teeth. No one really knows where Barb came from but they are rocking with us so we are rocking with them. Barb and Am are besties and it's usually Barbs job to make sure Am and Fawn don't do anything tooo stupid and reckless.

And lastly, Fawn. Harbinger of chaos and vessel of the green crown. They are the definition of a wild child and the perfect successor to Leshy! I am a big fan of the "cute but dangerous" characters and being a young deer, Fawn is often underestimated and isn't perceived to be a threat by others. Thats all I'm going to say about them right now...

Some notes I didnt know how else to incorporate:

Witness Agares, He/him, 8'ft tall, Old man, Demonic bug

Valefar, She/her, 7'2ft tall, Adult, Bag worm

Amdusias, They/them, 5'7ft tall, Young adult, Chaser worm

Barbatos, They/them, 5'3ft tall, Young adult, Bobbit worm

Fawn, They/them, 4'ft tall, A child/pre-teen, Fallow deer

(When I find the proper credit for Fawn's pose I will put it here. I love Pinterest but HATE how pretty much no one is ever credited!)

Character lineups:

Cult of Chaos Pt 1 (here)

Court of The Red Crown Pt 1

Court of The Red Crown Pt 2

[alrightyfruits]

my theories of what will happen (spoilers/leaks below the cut, don't read if you don't want to be spoiled)

rio/death and her dynamic with agatha - some known facts about death from the comics that I find intriguing (taken from here):

death cannot die

death can also reverse that passage and return a being to life, but that rarely happens

unlimited ability to manipulate reality, time, space, matter, energy, or magic for any purpose

deaths relationship with thanos in the comics:

death lured thanos to the dark side, encouraged him from an early age to kill. she became his 'confidante', being the only one to know of what he was doing

thanos fell for death, but death rejected him. however, their bond grew. she tried to convince thanos that he enjoyed doing these horrible things, which he admitted

eventually, death reciprocates these feelings

why this applies to my theory:

I think they've mixed it up for the show, making agatha the focus for death instead of thanos

like thanos, agatha craved the power, and went to the extremes to gain more, to the point where she killed her own mother (like thanos did) for her power

I think that rio/death is mesmerised by agatha, by how far she will go for her own gain. I do think however, like thanos in the comics, she encouraged this darkness in her

I believe they had a relationship, and even had a child (which I'm gonna headcannon for now she gave to agatha with her powers)

death continued to watch in awe as agatha craved more and more power, plotting together to get the darkhold

they went down the witches road together with a coven, and got to the end of the road

there was the choice to take what they wanted most (the darkhold) but whoever was bargaining with them (I think mephisto) wanted nicholas to be his agent

I think that the trade was rejected by agatha, but death didn't intervene.

I think that death always knew the outcome of this, and knew she couldn't change the course. she knew that if they went on the road, there would be a trade, something she didn't tell agatha. but, as death, she couldn't intervene as it goes against her rules.

so despite the rejection, mephisto does the trade anyway, destroying agatha. agatha and death inevitably separate, explaining why agatha is so full of anger with her.

death still longs for agatha, and when agatha goes off the rails after losing her son, agatha craves the power, causing more death and destruction, bringing death back into the picture regularly.

Which brings me to my final part of the theory: Nicholas Scratch

he became an agent of mephisto, mephisto wanted him due to his powers. after all, he's the son of the most powerful dark witch (before scarlett witch) and death (if my theory is right)

he will be teens boyfriend. (I know this sounds unhinged but hear me out)

he was sent to keep an eye on teen (billy) and agatha. remember, if correct, billy is wiccan, son of scarlett witch, making him extremely powerful. to further add to my theory, boyf has been cast and is due to appear.

could mephisto want teen to be his agent of chaos too? using boyf as the one to encourage him?

could mephisto himself have put the spell on billy so agatha can't figure him out?

anyway that's what I'm feeling will go down, we'll have to see lol

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 7

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6

----------SIX MONTHS LATER-----------

Mornings were the most enjoyable portion of the day in your home. It was calm and tranquil, which was unusual for the couple given the chaos of raising Kai.

You and Jake enjoyed the morning since your new schedules meant you didn't have to worry about work or Kai, whom you loved deeply. Those few hours you may spend together and enjoy a tranquil time in each other's arms

It was early in the morning, with sunlight streaming through the windows, when you felt Jake's massive arms weight on your waist and his nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck.

"Good morning, love," he whispered in his scratchy morning voice, drawing you against his bare chest.

“Good morning… ooh I see our big friend is also joining us this morning” your lips curled into the famous Seresin smirk that Jake thought you while feeling his hard cock against your panty covered ass.

“Can't stop it when I'm sleeping next to a goddess ” he slid his hand under your night gown tugging against the rim of your panties to get access to your slick folds.

“Jakey, what are you doing?” you giggled as he slowly lowered you panties.

“Giving my goddess the affection her needy ass needs. It’s been a while since our last trip downtown ” he says in his morning rasp as he leaves butterfly kisses down the side of your neck.

"It's only seven a.m., and he won't be up until nine, I can tell you that," he pulls you in closer, pressing his hardon into your ass.

"But.." you protested, but your body had already given in to him, allowing him to take control.

He silenced you before sliding his fingers inside your moist and massaging your clit in a circular manner. You moaned as he placed light kisses on the nape of your neck. "Does that feel good, mama?" he teases against your ear, his fingers moist with your sticky as he takes his time pleasing you.

"Mmmhmm," you murmured gently, your body lighting up at his touch. He slips two fingers into your heat and draws circles on your swelling bud with his thumb. Your hand returned to run your fingers through his hair, taking a grip of it as you pulled your hips back as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you at a regular rhythm, which felt nice but wasn't enough for you.

"Please, Jake, fuck…." you said in a frantic whisper. He had won you over, but he was destroying you.

"What do you need baby?" You can hear the sneer in his mocking tone. "I need you, I want you inside me," you said, as Jake quickly pushed you onto your back and removed your pants.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll take care of you," he says, raising your nightdress above your head.

He bends down to savour your lips, gasping as your tongue swirls with his. He kisses your breast and swirls your peaks around his tongue. Your hand reaches down and pushes his boxers to release his member.

He continues to suck on your tits as you wrap your fingers around his thick shaft, giving him a few strokes before lining him up with your entrance. He slips in smoothly, sighing quietly as his long, thick length fills your tightness.

"Fuck, darling" Jake murmured quietly into your ear, moving his hips into yours slowly and forcefully, making you tremble. His body was wonderfully moulded to yours. You tightened your legs around his hips, bringing him closer as he drove further into you.

"Fuck, Jakey, so close, oh!" you groaned, falling back as you achieved your peak. Jake was near as well, increasing up his tempo as your walls pulsated with the sensation of your high, making him chuckle at how you squirmed beneath him. You were both so caught up in each other's delight that you didn't notice your bedroom door was open.

"Mommy, Jakey?" Your son's tiny voice appears from thin air as you and Jake quickly pull up the covers for a bit of cleavage. Your little son is standing in your door frame, leaning a bit forward as Jake asks him what's up.

"I'm hungry…" Him and Jake have been getting along amazingly for the past few months but yet you still can't get over how shy your son manages to get at times. Jake knows how shy and antisocial Kai can truly get and says.

"Hey bud, give me a minute and I'll be down in the kitchen okay?" Kai to that, full of energy nods his head and runs off down the halls as you where about to get up but Jake quickly pushes you down and gets on top of you, kissing down your neck.

"I'll go take care off him, you rest, I bet I tired you out." He plants one more kiss on your lips and gets up grabbing some underwear and sweatpants beside the bed. "Jake you don't hav-" you've said that line already and many times before, and stops you in your tracks as he grabs a t-shirt and leaves the bedroom to take care of your son.

You lie down on the sofa mattress while staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you got so lucky. You've fallen for an agent that cares for you and your son and protects you no matter what. He cares for your son and how the young boy is doing. Overall he's just a gentleman.

You slowly rise out of bed, picking up your cleavage and pyjamas at the side. You slip on the top and bottom, swiftly walking over to the table where your phone starts to vibrate. You don't hesitate to pick up the phone even though it's an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello Madame Chevalier."

Current taglist:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@rosiahills22

@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@emma8895eb

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@a-beaverhausen

@itsmytimetoodream

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 25: Wondering If I Just Lost The Love Of My Life

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After your conversation with Frank, you start spiraling, and you find yourself at Jimmy's house, looking desperately for answers. Michael isn't too happy about that.

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, snooping around, snakes, allusions to child abuse & PTSD, Michael is pissed (and maybe a bit mean), rough grabbing of the arm (Is that a warning?), fighting, crying, semi-break up

Word Count: 8.6k

A/n: WOHOO I'M BACK!! Anyway, this chapter is only the beginning of this angst plot line, so... Don't hate me.

Tick, tick, tick…

One hour turns into two. Two hours turned into three. You’re alone, stuck in a house that isn’t yours, holding pictures of your sister who you haven’t seen in years in your hands because the man you chose to fall in love with has a family set out to destroy you; and for what? Because they aren’t happy with an adult man’s decisions?

Your life feels like it was written by a sadistic author; far more sadistic than yourself. You can’t keep up anymore.

Just a few months ago, you were somewhat happy working your ass off for some money at the Butterfly Effect. You made the process of brewing coffee for customers your life, and you enjoyed it. You fled your home to chase your dream of being a writer. What else are you supposed to do with your degree, anyway? And you were on a good path, saving money and trying to find an agent, but then Michael walked into your life. 

You don’t want to say that he ruined everything. You love him. You love him more than you have ever loved anyone, which is horrifying in itself, but you can’t deny that your life may have been a little easier if he hadn’t come into the shop that morning. If you hadn’t allowed yourself to get attached. Now, you’re involved with a family who is swimming against the flow of legality—and what scares you most about all of this are the thoughts you keep having that perhaps the Kinsellas could help you in a way not even the police ever could. 

You’re pressed against the wall next to the dining table, and your lungs keep forgetting that they are supposed to supply your body with life-sustaining oxygen. Every now and then, your eyes drift to the pictures in your hands. A tear rolls down your cheek, landing on the paper. It magnifies the size of your father’s face, and the memories that hit you at full force leave you clawing at the wood of the nearest chair. 

You were doing so well. You were an awkward barista with a safe future to look forward to. Now, you’re a barista using up all of her sick days because she isn’t allowed to leave the house of her Irish boyfriend—who just so happens to be part of an organized crime family. It sounds like the plot of a bad novel, but to you, it is very much real. 

Time was on your side until it wasn’t, and you have reached a point where desperation seems too kind of a word to explain what you’re feeling. Raw, unbridled anger fills your veins; the need to take the next plane out of Dublin is all-consuming, but you can’t be irrational. Not now. Michael was right about that part. 

You can’t help who you fall in love with, you know as much. Michael is damaged, but he’s yours. He is so human, you wish you could wrap him up and shield him from the world forever. From his family. From the pain. From the uncertainty. You wish you could grab him, your bags, and his daughter and run far away from this city. But those are wishes that seem too far away to even grasp.

If you have to get involved to prevent the worst from happening, you don’t have much of a choice but to do so. You only have one more thing left to lose, and she means the world to you. Breaking the rules—the law—seems like the lesser evil compared to waiting for the hourglass to run out of sand.

With shaky fingers, you dial the number you have dialed a few days ago. It’s still in your caller list. 

The line clicks, and the woman at Scotland Yard’s front desk answers again. It’s the same as last time. “Uh, hi,” you stammer into the speaker. “I called a few days ago, but I haven’t received an answer yet. I need to speak to Inspector Jones. It’s urgent. Would you mind connecting me with his office?”

Silence follows. Either she is taking a very pregnant pause to tell you something completely opposite of what you want to hear, or she is checking something in her system. You do hope it is the latter option. But of course, luck is still not on your side. 

The woman utters your name in the lowest tone possible. “Inspector Jones told me to inform you that he does not want to take your call,” she says. “He put you on his, uh, no-call list. I’m sorry, Miss. I wish I had better news.”

Her apology doesn’t bring back the hope he so mercilessly crushed in his bare hands and left it there, dying on the side of the road. Her apology doesn’t bring back your sister or supply you with the information on the case only Richard Jones has. He used to be so helpful when it happened. He told you that you could always call him. 

The question that nags you is, what changed? You haven’t called him in years, and now he suddenly acts like you’re the plague personified? It doesn’t sit right with you, but as soon as you’re on the no-call list, there is no way you can get through to him. 

You don’t wish her goodbye. You don’t tell her, ‘Oh no, it’s alright,’ because it isn’t alright. You hang up without another word, your phone slipping from your hand onto the floor. 

Swallowing a sob, you decide to pull yourself together. Michael keeps his laptop in the living room—though you suppose not always. You flop down on the couch with a huff. Of course, the device is password-protected. A picture on one of his shelves catches your eye, and you reach for it. Part of you is screaming to stop because looking at a picture of his daughter feels like an invasion of privacy, but you can’t listen to the left side of your brain. You turn it around, in search of the right combination of numbers. 

Anna’s birthday. It sounds so obvious—too obvious for a man as careful as Michael—but as soon as you type the numbers into the bar and hit enter, his laptop unlocks. 

“So predictable,” you mutter.

Instead of finding his desktop though, you stare right at an open folder you are sure is not meant for your eyes. It is also protected by a password, which you can tell by the little lock following the icon, but Michael must have forgotten to close it.

You should close the folder, open a browser, and do what you intended to do—write an email to forego the no-call list and guilt-trip Inspector Jones into finding the balls to contact you back. It is a desperate attempt that might get you a restraining order, but you have to try. For that, Michael would surely not be mad at you. If you start snooping though…

Your eyes have a mind of their own, following an instinct as old as time. You can’t help yourself. You tilt the screen back, and you take a closer look. 

The idea is so maddeningly risky your stomach churns at the thought of the possible consequences of your actions, but who else is going to tell you the truth if you don’t find out yourself? Michael doesn’t want to drag you into his mess as you’re dealing with your own, and while you get that, you are so far beyond common sense that you need to know what the man you love is involved in. You need to know what his family is involved in. If you don’t, you’re sure curiosity might actually kill you. 

You tried to avoid getting caught up in the dangers of the Kinsella family; you should have known that trying and succeeding hardly ever go hand-in-hand when it comes to your mess of a life.

You know Michael. You know how careful he is when it comes to dealing with delicate matters. He told you he didn’t want to get swept up in his family’s bullshit again, but as you look at what’s in front of you, you’re not so sure he told you the truth. 

The file contains mostly recollections of the family business. Drugs, weapons, larceny—not that it would ever change the way you feel about him, even if he did lie to you. This is not the worst you have seen, and it surely won’t be the last piece of dramatic information that will ever pass before your eyes. 

What catches your attention is the mention of Jamie, the record of his death, and a stolen autopsy report. And among all of that, you find a name Michael and Jimmy threw at each other’s heads the other day. Your hand still hurts just thinking about it. 

A loud thud echoes through the house when you forcefully shut the laptop. Every nerve in your body is burning itself alive. Your soul can’t withstand the storm of your emotions. The truth hits you. Around you, the world is falling apart, and you are unable to move anywhere but further into the chaos. 

Michael came into the café months ago because he was in desperate need of a reprieve—he was the butterfly that flapped its wings over in Asia—and now you are on the verge of getting caught up in something that you will never be able to get out of again; it is a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

Destiny and karma are very real phenomena, but so is the Butterfly Effect. Instead of innocent coffee though, you are staring into the face of disaster, and you have no idea what to do. 

An idea pops into your head. You shouldn’t seek out trouble. You really, really should not, but not even five minutes later, the door to Michael’s home falls shut behind you as you take determined steps next door. Not across the street, not to your car but next door.

The realization that Michael might never forgive you for putting yourself in this position moves to the back of your mind. You promised him not to do anything stupid while he was gone, but you knew from the start that you would never be able to keep that promise. 

Your feet are rooted to the ground as you ring the doorbell. At first, you receive no response. Just when you figured that you must have misinterpreted the movements in the neighboring home that you caught through the bedroom window earlier this morning, the gate opens, and you snap out of the endless spiral of your thoughts.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jimmy asks, his eyes trailing over your disheveled frame on his doorstep. 

Your eyes are red and swollen, and your outfit consists of a pair of Michael’s sweatpants and a shirt, but you weren’t planning on winning a fashion contest anyway. Jimmy deserves to see how miserable you are. Maybe then he will let you in.

He raises his eyebrows. “What? Came to hit my wife again? Last time wasn’t enough for ya?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, trying to hold contact with his dark eyes. “I need to talk to you,” you state matter-of-factly.

He eyes you again. “You look like shit.”

“Then I look better than I feel.”

“Hm. Does Michael know yer here?”

You expected him to snap at you—to lecture you—but that moment never comes.

You swallow thickly, then shake your head. “I’m here for answers,” you say. “And I feel like out of everyone in this family, you’re the only one who’ll be honest with me.”

“Why d’ya think I’d do that?” Jimmy asks.

“‘Cause you don’t like that I’m fucking your brother. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you couldn’t care less about what happens to me, which means that you also don’t feel the need to protect me or my delicate feelings.”

His lips curl into a smirk. As different as they are when it comes to their behavior, it is obvious that Jimmy and Michael are related. 

“I’m so sick and tired of not knowing. Not understanding. Not…not being in control.” Your lip quivers, and you bite down on it for a moment. “You didn’t act on Frank’s offer to threaten someone you don’t even know, so a twisted part of me feels like I can trust you. I won’t apologize for falling in love with your brother because despite what you all believe, he is an incredible man and he deserves the world. But loving him put my sister’s life at stake, and I need to know what I’m getting myself into before I lose her too. I–I just...I need five minutes. Please. And then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

Against all odds, Jimmy steps aside, motioning for you to enter. The house is as luxurious as you expected. High walls, big windows, and cool tones. The nature of your visit, however, only fills you with a sense of uneasiness. 

You close the door behind you and follow Jimmy down the hallway. You wouldn’t dare push your luck by saying something uncalled for.

Now that Jamie’s dead, you understand why Michael always seems so stuck in thought. The stakes are higher. You try to find a sliver of understanding for why Birdy was so cautious with you and asked you all the questions that you saw as a personal attack. She wanted to protect you, and maybe that is true, but she let Frank’s actions slide for a little too long and you don’t know if you can forgive her for that.

She ended up attacking you personally even if that was never her intention, and she let her brother attack everything you hold dear by trying to protect her own family, and that is not something you can let slide.

Jimmy walks up to a set of stairs that lead into the basement. You’re hesitant at first, standing at the top of the steps and staring down at him with narrow eyes. “Are you going to kill me?” you bluntly ask. 

He rolls his eyes. “Unarmed,” he says. “You can check me. I’m not carryin’.”

“What if there are guns down there?”

“There are, but I’m not gonna use ‘em to hurt ya. Michael would cut off my head and feed it to the dogs.”

You huff, but you eventually cave and follow him down the stairs. You hear him mumble something about you being complicated, and maybe you are, but can anyone blame you? You feel like you just walked into the lion’s den. Perhaps you are insane. 

You function on a very determined autopilot that wants you to do things you would never have done a few weeks ago, and you have no choice but to follow or else you will bang your head against the wall; Michael really shouldn’t have left you alone. 

The basement resembles a second living room. A leather couch stands against the wall to the right, and Jimmy has a collection of free weights to choose from to work out. There is even a pool table and a fridge you suppose holds liquor only. It must be the family’s layer for when they get together and discuss whatever a family like them has to discuss. 

Looking further, you notice the terrarium in the middle of the room. It’s gigantic. You step a little closer. The yellow anaconda is easy to spot. You don’t doubt it could strangle you if you put it around your neck. It is surely thick enough to crush your windpipe in an instant.

“Drink?” Jimmy asks from somewhere behind you.

You shake your head. “I’m good.”

He hums. You can hear the sound of ice cubes hitting a glass, and he pours whiskey over it. 

“You like snakes?”

You look at him, and then back at the snake. “I find them fascinating,” you state. 

“They’re fascinatin’ creatures, alright,” he says. “You wanna hold her?”

You don’t miss a beat, “Absolutely not.”

“Okay.”

You stand there in silence for a while, just watching the anaconda move her large body around her transparent living quarters. She sticks out her tongue. If you could talk to animals, you wonder what she would tell you. What has she witnessed in this room? The snake knows all the answers to the questions you are asking yourself.

“Why Michael?” Jimmy breaks the silence.

“He’s a good man,” you answer. It doesn’t require much thought. “I told you. He’s a much better man than you give him credit for.”

“A good man has no place here.”

“Who are you to judge that?”

He scoffs. “You have any idea what yer gettin’ yourself into?” 

“I knew from the moment I found out who he was. That doesn’t change how I feel about him.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“If you’re going to tell me that it’s my fault that I got caught up in all of this, save it. I’m well aware of that.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I love him!” your voice echoes in the spacious basement. “I love Michael with all my heart. So much it hurts. I would do anything for him because you failed him over and over again, and he deserves so much better than you useless lot.”

Taken aback by the force of your words without actively yelling at him, Jimmy lowers his glass. He stares at you with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment in his eyes, and you’ve seen that look in Michael’s eyes one too many times. You want to smash something, but that would only make matters worse, and you really didn’t come to cause a scene.

Jimmy infuriates you in a way not many men have managed. You want to hit him, give him a shiner that will rival the one his wife is probably carrying, but realistically, you don’t stand much of a chance against this man. He is strong. He could feed you to his anaconda if he wanted to. Even if Michael would behead him, he would do anything to save himself. He is the epitome of selfishness, and you refuse to stoop low enough to be on his level.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice again. “But I’m not just here because I love Michael. I’m here because your uncle decided that he had to let out his disdain for me on an innocent child,” you say.

“I’m not okay with that either,” Jimmy cuts in. “I don’t have control over Frank’s actions. I lost my son–”

“I’m aware, and I am so sorry for your loss, I am. I know how it feels to lose a child because my father killed my little sister and while she wasn’t my biological daughter, I was the one who raised her. And I raised Maya too. So, even if I left, even if I broke Michael’s heart and gave you what you so desperately want, my sister would still be in danger. My father would still be running free. And I’d still have no choice but to stay here because thanks to you, I am in danger too and Michael refuses to let me leave.”

A sigh leaves his parted lips, and he empties his glass. 

“This isn’t about me, Jimmy. It never has been. Not for me, at least. This is about Maya as much as your insecurities are about Michael. Except that Maya is a human being who has nothing to do with any of this. Not with Michael, not with you, and not with your godforsaken family. You don’t have to remind me how awful of a human being I am—I’m well aware of that myself, trust me, but I won’t stop trying to get answers until I have found a way to make sure she’s okay. That she’s safe. That I can get her back and end this once and for all because Frank didn’t leave me a fucking choice.”

You pull the pictures out of your coat. “He came to the house earlier. Gave me those. He said he told his men to leave her alone, but who’s to say that he didn’t already do irreversible damage?” you say. “I don’t know why Michael being happy is such a huge inconvenience to you, but I don’t care. I care about my family. Now, you can either help me or not, but don’t act like you have any right whatsoever to lecture me. You don’t even fucking know me.”

Jimmy takes the photographs. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he stares down at them. A drop of condensation from his glass drops on the paper, the same spot your tears dried into.

Your chest still heaves with every breath you take. “Jimmy,” you growl. The silence drills into your skull. 

When he finally opens his mouth, his voice resembles a steady tune. “I don’t stand behind Frank,” he says. “Not on this. He shouldn’t have done it.”

“I am well aware of that, thank you.”

“None of us knew yer story. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For Frank, for Birdy—hell, I’m even sorry fer how Amanda treated you. If I’d known…”

“Would you’ve stopped her?” you counter. 

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me.”

“There are ways to get rid of someone without puttin’ anyone in unnecessary danger. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

His expression is set in stone. You can’t determine whether or not he’s lying to you.

“Did Michael offer ya his help?” Jimmy asks then. “Regarding your, uh, father.”

You blink a few times, wondering if he really just asked you that. But you swallow your doubts, straighten your shoulders, and you nod. “Yeah, he did,” you say.

“Offered t’put a protective detail on her? Kill the bastard?”

“Something along those lines.”

“Then why hasn’t he?”

“Because death would be too kind for that man.”

The faintest smirk starts playing on his lips. “Can’t blame ya,” he states. 

“Of course not,” you retort. “I won’t stoop to my father’s level. He deserves to be put in prison for the rest of his life. A bullet to his head would end his suffering, and I refuse to let him down that easily.”

“Is that why you came here?”

You shake your head again. “I need answers.”

“Why wouldn’t Michael give them to ya?” Jimmy cocks an eyebrow. “He’s fuckin’ obsessed.”

“He may love me, but he has a protective instinct that makes it almost impossible for me to get the whole truth out of him,” you explain. “Michael wasn’t there when Frank came over. Perhaps because he knew Michael wouldn’t be there. He caught me off guard. I was vulnerable, and he used that against me.”

He tilts his head. “What did he say?”

“Just that he put an end to what he started. But I can’t believe that, now can I? He’d already started it.”

“You’re a lot smarter than I thought.”

Your lips part in a bitter scoff. “I found some things on Michael’s laptop,” you tell him. “I need to understand what I got myself into here. Maybe find some common ground. In my mind, after everything that went down at Birdy’s house, you’re the least untrustworthy, and while we may not be the best of friends, I can’t limit myself to what Michael thinks is right. Take it as a compliment or don’t, but I’m desperate here.”

He murmurs your name as he makes his way over to the open bottle of whiskey to pour himself another glass. His steps are careful.

You are well aware that you should tread carefully, and Jimmy seems to be on the same page as you that this is a bad idea, but you were desperate and you saw no other choice. You would have crawled up the walls of Michael’s empty house if you had waited, staring at the bullet holes in the walls and wondering if you would end up dead at the end of this the same way his wife did; or if you’d merely lose everything you’ve ever loved and be left with nothing else left to give.

“Who’s Eamon?” you blurt out. 

Jimmy stops dead in his tracks. You hit a nerve. Seemingly with a sledgehammer, too.

“Because from what I heard and what Michael has on him, he’s a perilous man.”

“Fuck!” Jimmy curses under his breath.

“Please, I just want to know. What is Michael caught up in?”

“We’re all caught up in it.” The tone of his voice has changed and switched to a more dangerous octave, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Eamon—Eamon fuckin’ Cunningham had my son killed, and Michael thinks he’s too good to help us get back at him because of Anna. That’s what.”

Your eyes soften. “I’m sorry, I—”

“He’s our supplier. Drugs. If ya really wanna know. Changed his business model. Wants us t’be his bitches. He’s a power-hungry bastard, that one. I didn’t wanna cave, but then Jamie—and Frank—”

With an animalistic growl that resembles a string of curses, he wipes the small table before him clean. The contents shatter on the ground, scattering millions of pieces of glass around the basement floor. You flinch.

The echo of his shout remains stuck to the walls. One of the shards scratches your forearm—not nearly enough to draw blood—before hitting the ground. The force causes the bottle to implode, and the crystal glasses break beyond repair the second they hit the ground.

You want to tell him that Michael doesn’t owe him anything. You want to tell Jimmy that none of this is Michael’s fault, but you have enough empathy to know when to speak and when to just be silent.

Grief is an unpredictable monster.

Jimmy takes a deep breath, then turns back around to face you. “I dunno what I can tell ya, but this family isn’t safe for someone like you,” he says. It sounds as though he actually cares, but you see right through him this time. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you answer, trying to pick your words with an incredible amount of care; don’t raise your voice, don’t shout at him, just tell him what’s on your mind in a way that is respectful and he might not lash out at you. “But Michael is fresh out of prison, trying to find himself a place in this world. I understand why he said that he can’t help you execute whatever revenge you have planned for whoever did this to your son. And I understand that this business you’re in is dangerous for every party involved, but that doesn’t deter me.”

Across the room, he meets your eyes. 

“I knew what I was getting myself into from the start,” you emphasize. “Michael promised me I’d be safe, and I trust him with my life, but now your family put my sister in danger, and we have to find a way to put an end to this mess because I refuse to let your little family dispute ruin my life. Michael can’t help me as he promised when he can’t manage to separate himself from you. Finding that file proved to me that he may have said that he’s done, but he isn’t, so I might as well accept that I’m not getting out of this either.”

He exhales, wiping his sticky hands on his trousers. “I underestimated ya,” he says. “But I suppose that’s what happens when your father’s a bastard.”

You shrug. “I just can’t run when you’re my only hope.”

Jimmy chuckles. “If we’re your only hope, I feel bad for ya.”

“Believe me, I feel plenty bad for myself already, but if I’d waited and told Michael about my plans, he wouldn’t have let me come here, and I still wouldn’t be much smarter than I was this morning.”

“Would you do somethin’ for us then? If we helped ya?” he asks. 

One hand washes the other, right?

The words for an answer get taken out of your mouth by the sound of the front door slamming shut. 

“Where is she?” Michael’s voice breaks through the ceiling. 

Your eyes widen. You have heard him feral before—when he was holding the gun to Frank’s head and threatened him, his voice lowering, barely above a whisper but every word as forceful as the next. His silent anger is the most dangerous form. It did something to you to see the man you love so livid because he saw your life at stake. 

You weren’t scared of him, you couldn’t possibly be, but the thought alone spikes the adrenaline in your veins, and your mind screams for you to run. It is the kind of effect he wants to have on people when he is angry; it is the type of effect he has on everyone because one looks at his fuming self and anyone would want to cower in the corner and cry. And maybe it makes your thighs clench just a little because no amount of fury could take away from how attractive this man is. But that is not the first thought that crosses your mind now.

The stairs creak with every heavy step Michael takes into the basement, and you hold your breath. Fuck. 

Jimmy stares at the mess on the floor, then back at you. You wonder if he’s scared that he might be the next in front of Michael’s gun. He surely didn’t hesitate when it came to Frank. Who knows if he would draw the line at his brother, but from what you have gathered from their relationship, there is a chance he won’t. 

“Jimmy,” is the first word on his lips when he makes it downstairs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and his fists clench at his sides. The cuddly teddy bear you said goodbye to this morning has disappeared completely under an iron veil. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Michael sneers. 

Your first instinct is to step between him and his brother. Only then does he seem to take a look at you. You meet his brown eyes, your palms extended to press against his chest. 

“Easy,” you murmur. You don’t see the need to snap at him. 

He takes you in, his clothes hugging your curves just right, and in an instant, his large hands are cupping your face. “You alright?” he asks, and the fury is gone for a moment as he checks you for injuries. As though he truly believes that his brother would hurt you. 

You nod. “I’m fine, I promise. I—”

Michael cuts you off. He pulls you to his side, almost behind himself, glaring at Jimmy. “Why’s she here with ya, huh?” Again, his demeanor changes. “She didn’t do anythin’! Frank put her life in danger, and you still treat her like a fuckin’ intruder?”

“Hold up, Michael. No,” Jimmy says. His shoulders broaden as he takes a step forward. “I didn’t–”

“Yes, ya fuckin’ did,” Michael interrupts him. “If you hurt or threatened her in any way, I swear to God—”

“No!” you raise your voice slightly, only enough to catch his attention. His head whips toward you. “He didn’t ask me here,” you confess. “I came here to talk to him, not the other way around. Jimmy…he didn’t do anything. I’m okay, baby. Please.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your words, and he slumps. He turns to you, his hand on your bicep, and he asks, breathlessly, “You what?”

The emotions in his eyes are a whirlwind that burns through the guilt in your stomach. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I had to.”

“Had to what?”

“Come here. Frank came over, and he gave me the pictures he was planning to use to blackmail me, telling me about how he told his men to back off, but—”

Michael snatches them from Jimmy’s hands, his knuckles white with how hard he is gripping them. 

“I was going crazy,” you say. “I called Scotland Yard, but Inspector Jones put me on his no-call list, so I thought I would write him an email. I was going to use your laptop, but you…you must’ve forgot to close one of the folders, and I accidentally started scrolling, and—”

“Jesus!” He shakes his head. “And you went t’ Jimmy about that?”

“I didn’t have a choice, okay? You said you didn’t want to get involved in anything illegal again, for Anna’s sake, but you lied to me. I don’t blame you. I know I’m not getting out of this, and I don’t want to because you mean the world to me, so I thought I could talk to Jimmy and we could find a compromise. After Frank…I didn’t think there was time to be rational about this. I’m sorry, Michael. I know you told me to sit tight, but I had to.”

“Five hours,” he growls. “You couldn’t wait five hours?”

Jimmy pipes up. “She was curious about Eamon,” he says. “I gave her the answers she was lookin’ for because you wouldn’t.”

Michael’s grip on your arm tightens, and it stings. You try to free yourself, but he won’t let you. 

“Whatever you two discussed,” he snarls, “It’s off the table.”

You glare at him. “What?” 

His fingers dig into your sensitive flesh. “Off the table, pet. You’re not gettin’ involved with this family.”

“What do you mean, I’m not getting involved with this family? I already am!”

“The fuck you are.” He drags you toward the door. 

“Michael,” you choke out, “you’re hurting me.”

You have never seen him like this, and you never would have thought he would grab you like this. 

He loosens his grip, but it’s still not enough to free you from his grasp. “I’m sorry,” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

You scoff. He may be sorry for hurting you, which you know was unintentional because he often underestimates his power, but he isn’t sorry for treating you like a child because he is still pulling you toward the stairs. 

“Michael,” Jimmy stops him. “Maybe we could talk ‘bout this?”

“No. You can get fucked!”

“Jesus,” you snap at him. 

“Home,” Michael tells you. “Now.”

His house isn’t even home to you, but you don’t have a choice. And as you make your way next door again, a feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. A feeling that makes you sick. 

Are you actually scared of him? Meeting his eyes once the door is closed behind you though, you can’t stop imagining your father in front of you, and it makes your heart race up to your throat.

Michael raises his hand to his forehead, the other resting on his hip. “Fuck!” He doesn’t say it to you. He would never. 

He is trying to get rid of his anger to have a normal conversation—to talk this through because he doesn’t understand why you would put yourself at risk like that—but your brain doesn’t function the way it did this morning. To you, he is cursing at nothing but you.  

You see his hand out of the corner of your eye, and you flinch. Your entire body recoils, and the air changes. He seems to realize what he did almost instantly. You hug your arms around yourself, avoiding his eyes, hoping you won’t cry, but the tears are treacherous as they start to pave their way forward. It burns.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice is soft again. His hand is gone, but oh, you can’t open yourself up to him again. “My love, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.” He takes a step forward. 

He didn’t, and he still isn’t thinking, it seems. You take a step back. He is suffocating you. 

“I’m not angry,” he tries again. “I just wanna understand…”

You swallow thickly. “I explained it to you,” the words flow out in a monotone line. 

“Why Jimmy? Why?”

“If I’d asked you, would you have told me the truth?” You meet his eyes, and it hits him like a strike of lightning. “If I’d asked you about the folder, about what the fuck is going on, would you have answered or would you have tried to keep me out of it?” you ask again. 

Michael gnaws at his bottom lip. “I told ya we’d find a way. We’d make a plan,” he says.

He is diverting. He can’t give you the answer you asked of him, and somehow that breaks your heart. It drills a sharp knife through your ribs, causing you to bleed out in front of him. 

“There is no other way,” you argue.

“There is always another way.”

“Not in this case, there isn't.”

“I cannot have you doing dirty work for my family. Fuckin’ Christ!” The whisper turns into a desperate plea, “Why can’t you see that?”

You wipe your cheeks with a furious index finger. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you fucked me.”

“Sorry?” He is taken aback by your tone of voice.

“You made me fall in love with you, knowing that being with you would put me in danger,” you cry. “I’ve always been okay with it, but you have to stop coddling me like I’m a child. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”

“This isn’t fair,” he says. “I’m just tryin’ to keep ya safe.“

“But I’m not the only one who matters.”

“You’re the only one who matters to me!”

The silence that washes over you is charged to the maximum. Michael’s words echo in your mind. 

“I know you love your sister,” he murmurs, “but you promised not to make any rash decisions.”

“I know,” you reply coolly.

“You should’ve waited. You should’ve talked t’me.” Michael shakes his head.

You sniffle. You can’t look at him. “So you own me now, huh?” 

“No, that’s not—”

“You say you want to protect me, to keep me safe, but has it ever crossed your mind, even for a second, that I don’t want to be saved?”

His chest heaves with the breath he inhales. His hands remain on his hips. He fiddles with the fabric of his sweater—he always does it when he’s nervous, or when he’s fuming. You watch his body language and read it like an open book, but there is a distance between you. You thought maybe he would be a little pissed, but this behavior is worse. It tears your soul apart, piece by piece.

Again, he inhales, and he exhales again. “You’re reckless,” he states. Somehow though, he makes it sound like an accusation. 

“So what?” you retort.

“So what? Are you even listening to yerself?”

“Don’t snap at me.”

“I’m not—” he clenches his jaw. “Trust me, if I snapped at ya, it would sound a lot different. I’m just tryin’ to figure you out ‘cause I can’t fuckin’ read ya right now.”

You offer a sarcastic hum. You don’t have to think far to find the words. They are right there on the tip of your tongue. “Maya’s living with a monster who would raise hell if he found out the truth. The same monster who tortured me. The same monster who murdered my sister. Now, I feel like I’m being followed everywhere I go,” you say. “The family of the man I love would rather see me fall than accept me. I can’t go back to London. I can’t go home. I can’t…I can’t even go back to work.”

You sniffle again. “Brewing coffee used to be my life. I was working toward being something more. Someone more. I was writing, I was being creative, and I was somewhat happy. I had a plan, you understand?” With every word out of your mouth, your voice rises to new volumes. “I had a plan to get my revenge eventually and move on, but now...now my life is whatever this shit is, and I hate it. Okay? I hate it.”

You’re not angry; you’re broken, but saying it out loud won’t move mountains, and when the last word passes your lips, still nothing has changed. It won’t change. You can pray, you can beg, and you can scream at the sky in hopes that someone—anyone—will hear you, but it is a losing game. Life is a losing game.

Michael whimpers in the back of his throat. “Don’t,” he begs.

“I hate—” You stare up at the ceiling. The tears taste salty on your tongue. 

“Stop it.”

“I hate it here, Mikey.”

God, he knows that you only call him that when you feel like you have reached a dead end, but this time, he can’t save you; he, himself, has reached a dead end that he can’t escape from, and the ocean between you is far too broad to cross. You sob, and he wants to sob with you. 

“I hate what my life has become,” you cry softly. Your soft cries are the most painful to listen to. “And I hate that loving you hurts so fucking much I can’t breathe.”

This conversation feels oddly familiar. As if you have had it before. As if it is a daily occurrence as your demons fight against each other for dominance.

“I wish I could change that,” Michael whispers back to you. He is so far away, yet you still hear him perfectly.

You shudder. “Make me hate you, you mean?”

“No, not that. Although yes, sometimes.”

“I wish I could hate you sometimes, too,” the admission rolls off your tongue like a bullet from a gun. 

He nods. His eyes never leave your fragile frame, barely holding on by a thread. “I wish I could take it all away from ya,” he says. “The fear, the pain... And I wish it were easier to protect those you love. But I dunno how. And I dunno how t’be…better.”

A better man, he wanted to say. Better for you, better for Anna, and better for anyone else. Michael feels unworthy of your love. He had hope; for a few days, he had hope, but hope never lasts long with him. It always dies because everything he touches eventually withers like a fragile flower. He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t know how.

You sniffle, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be better. I just need you to understand,” you say.

“I do,” Michael insists. “I do understand.”

“I’m glad you do, but I don’t. I need a chance at ruining the life of the man who caused so much damage I don’t even know what has become of me. I want to ruin his life the same way he ruined mine. I want to put him away for the rest of his miserable life so maybe my mother can get the help she refused to get when I last gave her the chance, and provide my sister with a normal life. That’s what I need.”

But what you need and can have are two different pairs of shoes. 

After a deep breath that lasts several seconds and allows the silence to stretch into a pregnant pause, you find your words again to continue. “The file I have on Ellie’s death is circumstantial, we both know that,” you say. “It won’t be enough. We won’t be enough—” Your voice cracks. “A security detail or killing my father won’t fix this. You telling me you love me won’t fix this. And saying ‘we will figure this out’ while you keep a folder on your family’s dealings that might as well also impact me now that Frank has painted a target on my back from me won’t fix this.”

He says your name in a way that sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine. 

“I just couldn’t wait!” It is unlike you to yell, but you have reached your limit. 

Again, Michael curses, running a hand over his face and through his beard.

You lean back against the wall, defeated beyond relief. “What do you want from me, Michael?” you plead. “Because I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.” 

“C’mon,” he breathes, “I never said that.”

“No, but it certainly feels that way.”

“I don’t want to lose ya, alright? That’s all I’ve got.” He sounds like a broken record. “I…I just found out that I probably have no chance at gettin’ Anna back, even after all I did, and I can’t…I just can’t…” 

The urge to reach out and take him into your arms is overwhelming. Tears glisten in his eyes now, and his body is quivering with agony. He’s holding back. He’s trying not to show you just how scared and in pain he truly is, but he can’t hide the truth from you.

On any other day, you would have crossed the room and hugged him with the promise of never letting him go, but can’t bring yourself up to get any closer because he is not the only one close to falling apart.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp out.

“I can’t lose you too,” Michael whispers. “If I get involved again with my family—if I choose to fight—that’s another story. I am who I am, and I can’t change that, but yer not; you’re everything to me. And I won’t put the goodness of yer heart at risk. I can’t—”

You silence him with your hand. “I am not Anna.”

“I know, but—”

“I am not Anna,” you repeat. “I can’t replace her. I won’t replace her. I am not a consolation prize, and I am not yours to command.”

Your steps are heavy as you reach for your bag. “No,” he grunts. He reaches for your arm again, but you elude him.

“Don’t touch me.”

You’re not even sure if this can be called fighting. You were arguing until you weren’t. It’s a quiet storm, but it causes the most damage.

The door is calling for you. You can’t stay here. You feel like you’re drowning—like he is taking all the air out of your lungs. You can’t stand here and argue and fight, and you definitely can’t stay and be quiet with him. That hurts a lot more than being yelled at. Silent anger kills, and you’re not sure if you can come back from this. 

How did you get here? When he left this morning, he kissed you. Now, there seem to be a million worlds standing between you, and you can’t find common ground. You’re floating in space, and Michael can’t haul you back, but perhaps that is not the problem. The problem is that you don’t want to be hauled back. 

His hand finds your waist, and he pulls you against him. “You’re not leaving,” he says. The gruff sound of his voice used to be your favorite.

“Let me go,” you murmur.

Michael shakes his head. You suck in a sharp breath when he presses his forehead to yours. He smells of whiskey and rum. Did he have a drink on his way here? Did he drown his sorrows in liquor and God knows what else? You don’t want to think about how miserable he is. You don’t want to think about what could happen. You just don’t want to think at all. 

“Please,” he begs. “Talk t’me.”

For a moment, you bask in the feeling of his skin against yours, but when it starts to hurt, you have to pull back. “I have nothing left to say.”

The arrow hits him straight through the heart. 

“I’m sleeping in my bed tonight.” You throw your bag over your shoulder, and you turn away so he won’t see you cry. “We’re no good for each other right now.”

He scoffs. It is a bitter sound that laces the air like a toxin. “We’ve never been good for each other.” 

You ignore the sting his words leave behind. “Then maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving,” you say.

The sound of the wall breaking under the weight of his fist is the last thing you hear before you step out into the cold evening air.

Your cheeks are wet with tears, but you don’t look back. You get into your car; you don’t even take another look at the house. You turn on the engine, and you pull out of the parking lot.

Michael’s house and the rest of the Kinsellas disappear behind you, your sobs echoing in the small space of your car. You might have to do this on your own, after all, and with that comes the realization that you might have just lost the love of your life, too. 

The question is just, was it worth it?

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight

[bi-hop]

my thoughts on rgu ep 2

and we're back to watching rgu! my thoughts so far can be found here.

it's funny and cute how those girls fawn over utena. no further thoughts, I just enjoy when that happens in yuri

I was so fucking worried that Wakaba wouldn't want to talk to Utena anymore after All That. I think Utena did the duel for a good reason but it's not like Wakaba asked her to. but nope, that wasn't the point of all that. it's okay, girl, you're better than Saionji's abusive ass anyway

... is the student council a doomsday cult?

you'd think for a group trying to 'bring revolution to the world' or whatever, they'd be more comfortable with a chaos agent added to their game LMAOOO anyway I'm pretending I understand what the fuck is going on with the letters but I don't <3

current working theory: End of the World is a supernatural force guiding them to achieve ends on the material plane. source? I have none. do not tell me what's going on or I will scream at the top of my lungs and embarrass us all

I had the feeling Anthy would be in the dorm but her writing her name underneath Utena's because her placement was an afterthought is... cute... kinda heartwrenching...

also is Anthy meant to look like a housewife? they're really hammering home the patriarchal nature of engagement and marriage here, and we haven't even gotten to another duel

speaking of their situation... while Anthy being like "you dress like a boy because you like to and I do the role as a Rose Bride because I like to" is an interesting conversation to have, I don't know if I believe it. I'm not claiming Utena's reasoning for dressing the way she does is false, I just also don't think it's the full story considering how she was also inspired to dress a certain way by a figure in her past. As for Anthy though, I do think it's false. I think she certainly believes what she's saying but the idea that she just naturally enjoys being subservient (cooking, cleaning) and being an object (more on that later) does not seem organic or 'true' to her.

my girlfriend wants a Chu-Chu plushie... ruh roh

okay back to the duels. I was already thinking she'd object to further duels because the one she partook in was exclusively for the benefit of Wakaba and she has no interest in the power plays over the Rose Bride. she doesn't even know about what they're fighting for, right? so why would she care

god, Saionji is such an abusive ex. I mean, obviously, but wow. I do think the situation is worsened by the fact that the duels confer a sense of ownership over Anthy, but the entitlement... the way he feels like she's betrayed him when he's the one who lost while also having THE ADVANTAGE? rotating him calling her shameless... Saionji-senpai vs Utena-sama... hm

I honestly didn't really notice the castle at the top of the sky when I was watching episode 1, so now the dialogue about entering it makes sense lmao

Utena claiming not to care about Anthy's situation but then immediately getting into the Sword of Dios rite and subconsciously moving to protect the rose even at the potential risk to her... yeah okay. Even Saionji calls her out on it lmao

final thoughts on the way Anthy is rendered an object to be possessed and owned but the way Saionji literally talks about her and the Sword of Dios in the same breath as 'glory' rather than, you know, Anthy being a person he cares for says it all. Her worth is only in the sense of possessing the power of Dios (whatever that means)

... is the prince Dios??? is he dead? what the fuck.

.... is Dios End of the World?!??!!? I'm so confused

Next episode is a ball episode and I'm excited for that one. I love balls, I love intrigue, I love messes.

This episode was good though, even if the pace felt different than the first episode. I think my central interest so far in the series is unraveling the mystery of what the fuck is going on at this school (the student council being powerful enough to make kids vanish is so funny btw), but I'm also deeply invested in Anthy. her passivity in the face of everything is alarming and I just want to understand it. how much of it is facade? how much of it is genuine conditioning? I want to know!!!

[icedragonlizard]

I very much like my headcanons of all the villain-turned-dream-friends still being very flawed people one way or another.

I'd say that they could all be considered morally grey to various degrees. Some may be nicer than others, but overall I wouldn't really call any of them saints. None of them are irredeemably evil, and Kirby is friends with every single one of them, but they're all still flawed. And Kirby is basically their 'parole officer' as he keeps them all in check.

This post got quite long as I wrote everything I wanted, so I'm gonna post a 'Keep reading tag' down below.

Feel free to click on it if you'd like to see my interpretations on the flaws of some Kirby characters! I'll be covering Marx, Dark Meta Knight, Daroach, Magolor, Taranza, Susie and the mage sisters here.

Marx may be on Kirby's good side now as he's not looking to attempt conquest on Popstar again, but he's still essentially an agent of chaos. He's loud, he's obnoxious, he's widely known to be a prankster, and he loves getting a rise out of people. He enjoys causing scenes purely for the sake of it. And his sense of humor isn't exactly good at having tact, as he'll make jokes out of things that most others wouldn't dare do. He can be considered the most insufferable one out of the bunch.

But there are good qualities to him, too. Some people legitimately think he's the funniest guy alive, so there's that. Marx loves attention in general, regardless if it's bad or good attention, and so he gets delighted if someone likes him and enjoys his antics. He loves it when people decide to join him on mischief. If you're his friend, he'll often give you stuff to laugh about and you're likely to find yourself having fun with him. If he likes you enough, he'll even stand up for you if someone else antagonizes you. His friends are literally his homies.

He's still quite the wild creature, though. It requires a lot of patience and a lax/chill attitude to be able to put up with Marx. It's not uncommon for him to find ways to instigate chaos in Star Allies gatherings. But he CAN be forced to behave, albeit not always easily. Kirby and Magolor are the ones that can most easily get him to listen.

Dark Meta Knight is still a standoffish jerk with a temperament. He's rude, brutal, and isn't at all afraid to say things that might run shivers down people's spines. He's prone to violence if he feels even the least bit agitated. He's also a rather detached person that does not care to make friends with most of the other star allies, and is quite a big hater for the ones that get on his nerves. He has a bad habit of being too blunt about wishing death or general ill-will for people he hates.

Not just that, but I headcanon that Dark Mind is technically still alive as a neutralized little fragment that desperately needs assistance. DMK hasn't given up trying to bring DM back to its former glory, and is still devoted enough to do what DM asks of him to do. It's not actually as frightening as it sounds, though. Trying to bring DM back to its former glory may be impossible due to how much it'd take, so that threat may not warrant much concern, but DMK still strives for it.

But DMK can be kept in check at times by a few others in the cast. I headcanon that DMK is friends with Daroach, Adeleine, Ribbon and Kirby, and he does care about what they think of him. But I hc those are the only friends he has in the cast, as he's the dream friend with the least amount of friends. He doesn't care about anyone else. He's also willing to do art stuff with Adeleine, and will protect his friends from danger. But overall, DMK is still a ruthless son-of-a-gun.

Daroach has a notably kind-hearted side to him, but he's also absolutely still a thief. Some people are ticked off by his persistent thievery. He likes the challenge of breaking into certain areas and to see what's he capable of successfully stealing. This can get especially irritating for some if he's brought the entire squeak squad with him for these instances. Daroach also has a trollish/smug side to him, as he thinks it's funny to get reactions out of people as he steals from them.

He does have standards, though. There are people that Daroach will NOT steal from. This includes Kirby, Adeleine, the entirety of Ripple Star (he'd feel bad to rob from that planet) and he also respects Meta Knight enough to never steal anything from the Halberd. He's also a softy around Kirby. And there's times in the day where Daroach decides to be chill and not steal anything. He can be quite a laidback bro if he's your friend. He has a big sense of humor and if you don't mind him pulling lighthearted fast ones on you, he'll gladly do that.

But he's still our resident thief! Hahaha. And he often has a rather shady demeanor that might make some people put their guards up.

Magolor did make a well known apology and created an amusement park to back it up, but I headcanon he's still very much a flawed person. Much like his buddy Marx, Magolor is a mischievous prankster that likes getting a rise out of people at times, although he's much more tactful than the jester in this regard. There's other problems with Magolor, like how he often says awkward things that make it evident he doesn't have the best understanding of social cues. He also has a tendency to insert himself into things, due to still having a bit of an ego, and he can sometimes be a blatantly obvious suck-up.

It's also arguably somewhat flawed morality-wise on Magolor's behalf to have made all the masks he did for Merry Magoland. He had great intentions with that, as he wanted to honor many people with that, but he made a lot of them without permission. And it ended up being pretty awkward for some people to see the masks. Thankfully, it didn't elicit any reactions bad enough for Magolor to lose any friends, but he arguably should've gotten many people's permission first.

Magolor is still buds with Kirby despite his current flaws, though. And he actually cares about being liked and cares about making people have fun, and so he makes sure that he has standards accordingly for that. He also just has very weird ways of going on about trying to be a better person than what he was before. But regardless, he's trying!

Taranza may be mourning the death of his beloved queen, but as a matter of fact I do not headcanon him to be a complete softboy! Once enough time passed for him to start properly recovering from his loss, he's eventually started coming back to being a snobby rich-theater kid type of guy like he was before. He can be very bizarrely smug and confident at times. He has an iconic devious smile. He makes webs at people's homes with often trollish messages. Don't be surprised if he sneakily rearranges the stuff in your home without you looking.

And believe it or not, he also has a secretly vengeful and vindictive side to him. He'd love to torment and beat up everyone that picks on him. And because it was a dimensional mirror that corrupted his queen, he heavily resents the mirror world and talks smack about its inhabitants. Honestly if he saw a dimensional mirror again he'd love to break it and smash it to pieces. He also legit wants DMK to die.

But overall, Taranza is no serious bad guy anymore. He does have a definite nice and caring side to him. He's really grateful to all of his friends that have helped him out with his grief (especially Susie, who understands him better than anyone else does) and he'd panic like frick when one of his friends gets hurt. He doesn't want to lose any of his current friends, the last thing he needs is MORE things to grieve over. He's also glad to show people about flora. He's also still just a silly-ass rich theater guy that can be quite a big, dramatic handful.

Susie, while no longer the terrifying colonizer she once was, is still very much a corporate-minded woman with a lot of unhinged stuff going on with her. The HWC's practices are substantially improved in her rule compared to what it was in her dad's rule, but she still makes corny business decisions at times. She has a notable stubborn streak, and is often a bit too blunt and formal to people she isn't close enough to be friends with. She's also feisty and a bit too ruthless when it comes to combat, as it may require others to calm her down. And like Magolor, she gets awkward at times with her low understanding of social cues.

She's also still a mad-scientist at heart, although she's mostly stopped mechanizing people (except for those that explicitly WANT it) and has largely shifted to applying her mad-scientist desires on inanimate objects such as toys and accessories. I headcanon that Susie has an entire hobby of making super-detailed custom furbies as I wrote a post about it. But despite the improved shift, she often gets way ahead of herself when experimenting on inanimate objects to the point that the final result of her creations are pretty darn freaky and unnerving to some people. She really loves doing it, though! And the unhinged level of detail to her creations can be hilarious to some.

Susie does have friends that she cares about, and she lets them reign her in as she doesn't want to disappoint them. And despite usually being rather cold, she's not entirely without her kind moments. Susie is at her nicest when interacting with Taranza and Kirby, and she has other friends like Magolor and the mage sisters that she can be great with. Her friends are the one thing that help motivate her to get better. But despite that, Susie is still absolutely a big handful in terms of flaws. She's still a vindictive, standoffish, corporate mad-scientist that's ballsy enough to constantly snap back during confrontations!

The Mage Sisters are still chaotic menaces. They're exceptionally grateful to Kirby and co. for saving them and Hyness in HiAD, and so they definitely ain't doing that Void Termina crap again, but these women still engage in absurdly violent and bombastic activities. They love to destroy random buildings for no real reason other than just for kicks and giggles. They cackle like hyenas when they cause mischief.

Francisca is perhaps the most obviously flawed mage sister, as she literally keeps her frozen trophy collection and even tries to expand it! That's a bruh moment. It doesn't exactly help that she's close buddies with Marx as those two will just make some absolutely absurd hijinks together. Her relatively quiet nature can also be rather unnerving. It's not all bad, though, as she can be genuinely sweet to people that she cares about. And she's kind enough to give you free water with her soda gun if you'd like that, but overall she's an extraordinary freak.

Flamberge is the nicest of the three mage sisters, but she still has her fair share of chaos as she loves causing big booms with her fire abilities. She can be considered a daredevil with that sort of thing. Another notable flaw with her is that she lets Francisca get away with anything. She will NEVER hold her psychotic blue sister accountable. And there's of course her temperament, but she's surprisingly chill a lot of the time and is really only angry if given an actual reason to be.

Zan Partizanne can be quite rude with excessive name-calling, as she has a mentality of "it goes both ways" when her name can't be said right. If you can't say her name right, then she'll make it even by giving you some unhinged nickname. She also has a guilty pleasure of starting playful bickering matches with people purely for fun. That being said, she's something of a leader alongside Hyness at the Jambandran base and is always glad to help guide people around the place, but she can overall be quite a standoffish and feisty person.

The mage sisters do care about trying to be better, though. They want to make Kirby proud as he's essentially their little hero. They're still incredibly unhinged people by virtue of being raised in a literal cult, though, and they still love to start ruckuses and cause chaos. With the amount of mischief they cause with their weapons, it may be wise to keep some distance as to not get caught in their weapons' range.

-----

That's basically everything I got. All these characters are still very flawed people to me. They're all redeemable to various extents, but yeah. I like to think that they all need occasional slaps on the wrists by Kirby. He's their 'parole officer' like I said at the beginning of the post. He keeps them in check. And it works as they all respect him!

But despite sometimes slapping them on the wrists, Kirby does care about all these people. He's friends with all of them. He cheers them on as they progress in life. When they do good things, he's proud of them! He also can't help but feel sorry for the more traumatized ones.

Kirby has remarkable tolerance. He can basically be friends with bad people, lol. He always has faith and sees the good in people. He's the perfect little guy to motivate people to get better. He can keep someone in check from doing bad things, and is merciful enough to always give them a second chance. Man, thank this universe for Kirby!

Thanks for reading if you did. See you for the next one.