#it’s so cold where I live everything is frozen and I’m suffering ;-;

[yaboiwormy]

Mmmmm clear water, lakes that you can see the bottom of, shallow puddles, slow moving rivers with pebblesSLOW MOVING RIVERS WITH PEBBLES

[s-creations]

Mitigate - AvA One-Shot

Just because they escaped, that doesn't mean everything was okay.

Yellow was left with more than just physical scars when they all escaped from Rocket Corp.

Fandom: Animator vs. Animation (Short Films - Becker) Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Blue & Green & Orange | The Second Coming & Red & Yellow Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt & Comfort, Yellow got more than just physical scars, they all escaped Rocket Corp but they still suffered, Aftermath of Torture / Violence, Mentions of Violence, Victim / King Orange / Lucky Block Summoner Mentioned.

Follow Up Story to Perfidious.

Yellow sucked in air the moment the harsh electric current was finally cut off. The stick’s head fell limp as his body slumped in the wooden chair. Only kept up by the bindings tying him in place. He wasn’t able to make any noise, his numb mind seeming to have restarted. Focusing on the basic concept of breathing while his body occasionally spasmed in pain. 

His head was forced back up, fuzzy focus going back to the gray stick in front of him. Victim walking forward, Lasso Tool in hand, the string being swung around. 

“How much longer do we have to do this Yellow? I’m not enjoying seeing you in so much pain, but I need answers. So, I’ll ask again. How do I bring Alan here.” Victim’s question sounded more like a statement due to his monotone voice. 

“I-I don’t-” Yellow winced as the grip on the back of his head tightened. “I don’t know!”

“Don’t tell me that,” Victim cooed softly, “You know that I have proof you’ve done so. Make this easier on the both of us.” 

Yellow wasn’t sure what happened. He was just aware that the area had been seemingly encased in heavy shadows a second ago. There was a blink and Yellow was suddenly blinded by a brilliant white light. Squeezing his eyes to clear up his vision quickly, Yellow was eventually able to see the uncomfortably familiar photo on a large screen before him. 

The same bunker that Dark was going to launch his Virus attack from.  Yellow clearly seen, knowing at that point he’d been furiously typing at the computer. Alan’s cursor being brought to hover about the lake where Dark and Chosen were fighting. 

No matter how Yellow attempted to turn his eyes away, the photo just seemed to follow him. Forcing him to face his supposed crimes. 

“Once more into the fire, I suppose.”

Yellow wasn’t sure when Victim had gotten behind him, but he felt nubs placed gently on his shoulders. The gray stick’s voice sounded right in Yellow’s ear. 

“How did you do this? How’d you bring him here? Tell me, and all of this will be over. You can just sleep, and never have to live this nightmare again.”

“I’m not-”

“This will all be over, you just have to tell me.”

“I won’t-”

“You’ve already betrayed them. There’s no need to hold out further.”

Yellow felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“The moment you decided to play hero, you put everyone at risk. Everyone’s in danger because you really thought you could make a difference. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You’re nothing more than a liability.” 

It felt as if his body was melting away. An unmoving mass that was forced to look at this picture. Said image suddenly flickering. 

Twitching.

Glitching.

Changing from the frozen moment of Alan’s arrival to when Yellow met King. The very first time. The village having been rescued by the tall stick. He and King sharing a strong handshake. The moments when Yellow thought he’d found a kindred spirit in creating and building. All before Yellow walked himself and Blue into an obvious trap. 

The bounded stick had a brief flash of understanding why he was being shown this. 

“W-Wait…” Yellow croaked out weakly. 

“You really can’t help yourself.” Victim’s voice was twisted now. An uncomfortable mix of his and King’s cold voice. Both melding together to taunt the trapped stick. “You’re so desperate to find the answer to so many questions that you ignore the more important ones. You don’t think about your actions. You just think about how it can benefit you. It’s always about you. Never a worry about how it will affect your friends.” 

“S-Stop this… T-This isn’t what happened b-before…”

Yellow’s pleas fell on deaf ears as the image morphed once more. Now showing his out of body experience with the Lucky Block Summoner piloting his body. Nubs grasping at the bars that held him back. Unable to protect his friends from the actions he caused. 

“How many times do you have to keep pushing for an answer before you realize you're a hazard.” Victim and King’s voice was now joined by the robotic tone of the Summoner. Sounding as it did before it launched Yellow out of his own body. 

“You trust too easily. You poke and prod when it’s not needed. You question the wrong things. For how smart you claim to be, you stupidly keep ignoring the warning flags directly in front of you. You’re going to eventually go too far and you’ll lose everything that mattered…and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

The image shifted and morphed, no longer the large screen but a disgusting blob that grew to show all of Yellow’s worst fears. Blue’s dependance on Netharwart because Yellow’s mine roller coaster causing a glitch to allow the fungus to grow. Green’s drive to be the best because Yellow couldn’t handle him winning at anything. Red’s panicked attempts to grab the glitching Command Block that was warping the desktop. Orange’s pleas to go back home being ignored in order for Yellow to explore the Minecraft world more. 

Each flaw, each memory that left Yellow lying awake at night appeared before him. All of it ending with watching Red, Green, and Blue being run through with Dark’s virus sword. 

Until nothing was left.

“When will you learn?”

Even with the swirl of voice, Dark now joining the mix, being nothing more than a hiss, they seemed to consume Yellow’s mind. 

“If you’d just give you…everything would be fine…”

Yellow couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t move. 

Unable to look away from the horrific images before him. 

His mind seemed unable to understand what was happening. 

Force to face his memories. 

Forced to watch his friends die. 

Force to remain in place as Dark suddenly left the frame of the memory. 

Dropping into the bright room.

Blade in hand. 

Drawing closer with ease to where Yellow was trapped. 

Yellow unable to do a thing as the sword was raised up and-

The sound that left his lungs was that of a strangled gasp. As if wanting to scream but not having the energy needed behind it. 

Still believing there was a blade heading his way, Yellow scrambled out of the way. Which resulted in his legs being tangled in his sheet. All of it combined in him ungracefully collapsing into the ground. 

The sudden rush of pain woke Yellow faster than any cold shower could. Placing his nubs on the ground, he slowly sat up and peered around cautiously. He was back in his room, on the desktop. Alan’s desktop. Between the darkened area and the snore coming from the other rooms, Yellow concluded it was still late at night. 

The calmness of it all was making his form twitch nervously. 

Heart racing, Yellow shakily untangled himself. Which had a level of difficulty added when his hands wouldn’t cooperate on occasion. When he got his legs finally free, Yellow stumbled his way to the front door. Doing his best to keep himself upright as he continued to lose his foot on shaky legs. Hoping he wouldn’t wake the rest with how often Yellow seemed to run into the wall. 

The relief he felt emerging from the Minecraft built house was short lived. Yellow’s legs finally gave up the fight. Causing him to tumble to the ground, propped up on his hands and knees, he tried to calm his breathing. 

Once his panicked gasps calmed down to deeper, shaky breaths, Yellow lifted his head to look around. He’d barely made it out the front door. Now knelt at the base of the front porch steps, knees scraping against the gravel pathway. The terrified stick nestled between the garden’s Blue was growing, the ones made for the everyday meals the gang needed.

Turning towards the screen, Yellow could just make out the outline of Alan’s chair. Said item lit by the softened desktop light. 

It was late if Alan wasn’t working.

Everyone was still asleep.

While Yellow was having, he was pretty sure, a panic attack. 

Breathing still heavy, Yellow rubbed his nubs along his chest. Feeling a heavy pressure laying across as if someone was stepping on him. 

He was home, everyone was fine. As far as he was aware. Everyone he was worried about was fine. They were all back home. Safe and sound. No one was coming after them or Alan anymore.

So why?

Why couldn’t he sleep? 

Why was he always put back in that stupid room?

Why…Why did he keep blaming himself?

Yellow was unaware when his vision became blurry. Jerking out of his silent stupor when something wet landed on his legs and hands. More tears falling when Yellow realized he was crying. A deep breath in was released back out as a shaking, guttural cry. Each further intake resulted in the same desperate sound. Yellow practically collapsing in on himself, curling into a semi-ball as he tried to push this sickening feeling out from him. 

It hurt, everything felt so heavy yet not real. Yellow didn’t feel like he was in his body anymore, but also had every nerve screaming at him. He felt like he needed to run, but to where? And why? He couldn’t breath, but he was taking in so much air. He felt like he was going crazy. 

He just wanted everything to stop. 

If he could just sleep…

Yellow let out a heavy gasp feeling pressure on his shoulders. Jerking away so quickly that he fell onto his back. Shakily looking up, Yellow was surprised to find Orange. Knelt before the other, looking extremely worried. 

“Yellow? ���Hey, can you hear me?” Orange’s voice was low and even, clearly trying to keep calm. 

Giving a shaky nod, Yellow shifted to mimic Orange’s position. 

“Okay, are…you okay? I-I heard you and… You sounded like you were in pain. Did you-” Orange tried not to flinch when Yellow launched himself at the Hollow Head. Said being recovering quickly to hold the sobbing stick. 

Uncaring how uncomfortable the gravel was beneath him. Or that Yellow’s knees were digging into his sides. Orange pulled the other closer, rubbing the back of Yellow’s head while rocking gently. 

Movement from the open front door pulled Orange’s attention. Finding the rest of the gang there. All trying to get a better look at the situation without impeding, at least for two of them. Blue apparently being the one wanting to reach out first, if Red and Green’s arms wrapped around the other were any indication. 

Orange gave a stern glare and a shake with his head. A silent order for the rest to stay back and allow him to handle this. The scuffle fell still at that. All remaining tense, but stayed in the doorway. 

Focused back on Yellow, Orange realized the other had calmed down slightly. The heavy sobs quieted to small hiccups, but still had a death grip on Orange. 

“Hey you,” Orange whispered gently, “Feeling better? Do you want to talk?”

“...I…I don’t know…”

“You know you can tell me anything.” Orange’s confidence faltered slightly when Yellow just pressed closer. “Yellow-”

“I’m sorry.”

Orange swallowed weakly, clearly confused. Looking out to the rest, they shook their heads. None of them offered a solution or a clear understanding as to what the problem was. 

“It’s, um, it’s okay. I was kind of already awake. How about we go inside and-”

Yellow shook his head, clinging tighter. 

“Okay, okay,” Orange quickly backtracked, “We don’t have to. Just…let me know what you need, how about that? I’m here, I’m right here, you’re okay.”

Orange held back a deep sigh, allowing for a few minutes to let Yellow relax again.

“How about we try that again, yeah? What are you sorry about?”

“...I keep messing everything up,” Yellow sniffed weakly, “I can’t do anything right.”

“No, you don’t mess anything up.”

“Yes…I do…”

Orange laxed his grip when Yellow shuffled, pulling away to allow some space between the two. Yellow’s face flushed in a soft pink. Cheeks holding dry tear streaks. Unable to look at Orange, but clearly wanted to talk.

“I…I told him…” Yellow’s voice was quiet. 

“Told who what?” Orange asked softly.

“Vic…Victim. He kept demanding to know how I brought Alan to the Deep Server. How…How I helped Chosen and you and… I didn’t want to say anything, I tried so hard, I swear, but…” Yellow gave a small sob, head hanging low. 

“I couldn’t…”

Orange felt his stomach drop as Yellow’s voice petered off. 

When the gang had found their missing piece, tucked deep into the Rocket Corp HQ, Yellow had been in a horrible state. Barely awake, sprawled out on the cage’s floor, and covered with numerous, open wounds and deep colored bruises. It had been a terrible sight. 

Blue had to be practically tackled down to stop him from hunting down whoever had hurt Yellow. 

Even with how sick each had felt finding their friend in such a state, their main focus had to shift to fleeing the base. Meaning no one could be given the time to worry over what could have possibly happened. When it was all said and done, and Yellow could speak again, all that was given as an explanation was Victim had wanted answers. Ones that only Yellow could apparently provide. 

He hadn’t explained how he’d ended up the way he had. And, truthfully, they didn’t want to push the poor stick. Try to have him relive that moment and possibly cause more harm than good. 

Now, Orange was kicking himself for not asking further. 

But he couldn’t worry over that for now. 

Taking a deep breath, Orange gently took Yellow’s nubs in his own. Doing his best to make eye contact with the other. Only for Yellow to continuously look away. 

“Yellow…what happened?”

The question seemed to break something in Yellow. Head turned away as quiet sobs increased. Orange immediately pulled the other back in, Yellow tucking into the crook of the Hollow Head’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Orange frantically whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I don’t understand what’s going on and I need you to talk to me.”

“I can’t… I don’t want any more questions…” Yellow hiccuped, “Questions…i-it’s always questions… I can’t take any more…”

Swallowing weakly, Orange softened his grip slightly as he replied with, “You love questions.”

Yellow shook his head, “No… N-Not when they l-lead…to t-this…”

“Lead to what? Yellow please, I need to understand.”

“...He…hurt me.”

“Who did?”

“V-Victim, Agent, they all…” Yellow let out a shaky breath, “T-They took turns. Victim wanted answers…h-he kept asking the s-same question… I-I tried…I tried not to s-say anything, b-but…”

“Oh, Yellow…” Orange took a deep, even breath to keep himself together. It wouldn’t do the situation well if he broke down at this point. “It’s okay, you’re okay… You’re home, we’re all safe… You did nothing wrong-”

“B-But I did,” Yellow forced out quickly, “I did because- I-I couldn’t do it anymore, i-it hurt- I just… I just wanted it to stop… So I told him…”

“Yellow, I don’t blame you. No one blames you. You did what you could.”

“Did I? Because it doesn’t feel like t-that… It feels like I let everyone down. I could have held out longer, or find some way out, or-”

Yellow was not prepared to be pulled away. Tense with surprise when Orange forced them to stare the other down. Yellow was a little fearful with how determined Orange looked. 

“You were being hurt- tortured! Yellow, you were… You are not to be blamed for any of this. None of us blame you. With what you went through… Is this what you’ve been worried over? Is this what’s been on your mind since we got back?”

Yellow nodded weakly. 

“You aren’t in the wrong. You are the victim in this, no one else. You, Yellow, you were hurt, do you understand me?”

The tense posture held before had melted away, not to a look of understanding, but of meekness. Yellow’s attention flickering down once more. “...Not always.”

“What?”

“Not always. My…stupid curiosity makes me ignore the obvious dangers. Like with King, meeting him the first time. I was more enamoured by what he’d built and wanting to learn from him than worry about where he’d come from. Or why he’d even have that staff. I basically gave Blue and myself over to a dangerous stick, gift wrapped!”

Yellow furiously rubbed his eyes and cheeks, breathing becoming harsh again.

Orange frowned softly. “Yellow-”

“And I don’t know about you, but I certainly remember when I was astral projected out of my body! By that stupid sentient Summoner from the Lucky Blocks. Because I just had to know how it worked! I can’t just…I can’t leave it alone…” 

“I summoned Alan to the fight, because I was afraid to do it myself… If I was stronger…if I didn’t know what I did… If my…mind would just shut up…”

“We would be dead.”

Yellow blinked slightly at how stern Orange sounded. “But…”

“If you hadn’t brought Alan, we would have died…f-faster, but still. If you didn’t know how the Command Blocks worked, you wouldn’t have known how to use King’s staff. If you didn’t know how the Summoner worked, we wouldn’t have gotten out.”

“B-But I caused us to get in those situations.”

“And then you got us out!”

“Orange-”

“Plus, if we’re going to place blame, it should be mine.”

“Y-Yours?” Yellow panicked, “But, how?”

“If I was really that powerful, why didn’t I take down Agent and his team? Or, if I was stronger, I could have drawn on what was needed to defeat them and get everyone out. I should have fought harder to get us home when we found Blue in the Nether instead of falling for Purple’s trap. I should have known those Lucky Blocks were trouble and left them alone. I should have known and done a lot of things differently, by your standards anyway.”

“B-But-”

“Yellow…we can’t worry about the past… Besides, I think you need to view this as how you handled the situations, not what brought us there. And I think you’re quick witted and ready to learn to improve your thinking on getting out of situations. I wish I could know even a fraction of what you do. You could plan your way out of any situation if given the proper tools. Or even without proper tools, who knows! The way your mind works amazes me.”

Yellow didn’t fight back as he was pulled into a hug, finally melting into the hold. A heavy but relieved sigh escaped him. 

“We all have flaws,” Orange continued, “it makes us alive. But we also have our strengths. Your quest for questions is what makes you amazing. And whatever you can’t do, you know you can rely on us. All of us, even Purple and King. Maybe even Chosen, if it’s a really desperate situation. We’re a team. We balance each other. You know that we have your back, right?”

“Yeah…” Yellow smiled softly, head laying on Orange’s shoulder.

Orange’s reply was cut off when further bodies suddenly collided into them. Blue, Red, and Green joining the other two on the gravel path. The duo was surprised at first by the increased weight, but Yellow eventually let out a small laugh. 

“How long were you all listening?” He mumbled out weakly. 

“Pretty much since Orange joined you,” Blue answered honestly.

“...Did I wake all of you up?”

Green huffed playfully, “Yes, your grief was very loud.” 

“But that’s a whatever point! We have something to show you two. Come on, up! Let’s go!” Red stood back up first. Practically pulling Yellow to follow with Blue close behind. The three headed into the house first. 

Orange got up, dusting some gravel off, and he turned to Green with a curious look. “Nothing I said was wrong…right?”

“No, I think you got it. We’ve all done things that would be considered dangerous and stupid. But we also pull each other out of said stupid situations.”

“...I’m worried that I didn’t know about Yellow...”

“None of us did, we’ll carry the blame for that.”

“But we’re going to focus on his recovery, right?”

Green did his best ‘finger guns’ with his nubs and nodded, “You got it. …I honestly think we all need a few more days to recover from all of that.”

“Yeah, fair…”

“Come on, Red is really excited to show off what we set up. Let’s not make him wait longer.” Green casually dropped an arm around Orange’s shoulder. Taking the lead back into the house. 

The main area wasn’t really large enough to count as a living room. But apparently it was big enough to have two mattresses to be crammed in. The large pads covered with so many blankets and pillows, Orange almost thought more had been created for this occasion. Yellow was already tucked in with Red bouncing around to make sure everything had been set up perfectly. Blue was lying close to Yellow, gently rubbing the top of the other’s head. 

Orange and Green joined, the former taking the other free spot next to Yellow. Burying under the blankets and flopping his head back onto the pillows, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep. He didn’t make a complaint as Yellow wrapped his arms around one of the Hollow Head’s own. 

Deeming everything was in their proper place, Red finally laid down as well. Rolling onto his side to flop an arm over Blue to gently rub Yellow’s arm. Green took the last spot. Pulling out his phone to play some calming music before reaching over to grab one of Yellow’s hands. 

Even with the worries still swirling around in his head, Yellow felt the most relaxed he’d had in a while. Feeling as if all his stressors become a quiet buzz. Being surrounded by his friends offering a comfort not felt by him in so long. 

In no time at all, Yellow felt himself drifting off. 

The nightmares now replaced with the best memories. 

Yellow let out a contentful sigh, sleeping peacefully through the night. 

No one complained when they all woke up in a tangled mess the following morning. 

[skwrelle]

Cue Plankton's maniacal laughter

Ah, yes, yes, YES! The mouth—it must be sewn shut, the lips bound in eternal silence! A glorious and wicked act, one that shall be the first step in my ultimate plan to rule it all! You see, gravity always wins, my dear friend. It has no mercy, no forgiveness—just like me! It pulls everything down, just as I shall pull the world under my control. Gahaha!

Now, as the victim, or should I say "participant," begins to unzip, slowly, carefully—yes, holding the knife steady, so slowly—down, down, down the stomach. Like the meticulous workings of my brilliant mind! First between the breasts, oh yes, the chicken breasts—they are merely the beginning—up the neck, back down through the very core of the body. Isn’t this just magnificent? The precision, the art. Everything moving in a straight line. So simple. So flawless. And yet so very dangerous. The skin. no skin. bloody flesh and muscle exposed to the air

So much blood, not ketchup. blood. I'll use blood instead of ketchup. That's right, blood on your burger, and it’s not just for the shock value—oh, no! It’s much more than that! The real beauty of this plan is the subtlety. Over time, as more and more unsuspecting customers enjoy their blood-drizzled burgers, they’ll start to develop a strange, irresistible urge.

Oh, but wait! Battery? Energy? Oil discovered on Mars? Oh yes, yes—mustn't forget the small details! It's like the power that fuels the engine of my plans! The fuel! Without it, everything falls apart—just like those miserable whales, collapsing under their own weight! The God of war gifts me with fuel to power my methods of destruction.

Heaven was conquered, Hell too—oh, how sweet the taste of victory… God fell, the temple burned, reduced to ash. Glorious, isn't it? A little burning here, a little chaos there. That’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Disorder. Destruction. The truth. The Death of God. The whole world in shambles! But wait—it’s not over, oh no. Not by a long shot!

Epoch 7: Angel seed of God and Rule frozen World

Ah, yes, Frozen Hell. The coldest, most chilling place in the deepest recesses of the universe! Where the fire doesn’t burn hot but freezes the soul—a place where agony is not felt through scorching heat, but through the slow, methodical numbness of eternal frost.

Ah, the sounds! Whinnying… screaming in horror—yes, yes, that’s what I want to hear. It’s music to my ears, really. I live for this. The screams of the masses! It fuels my insatiable hunger for power! Warnings! Seizure warnings! Oh, how I revel in the chaos, the panic, the disarray of it all! So beautiful! The world is nothing more than a playground for my evil genius!

Wait, what’s that? Oh! Chlamydia!? Friendly radiation? Gah! That’s the sound of my brain, my beautiful, ever-vibrant mind—buzzing with the energy of 1000 schemes! Screaming inside! But that’s fine! It’s all part of the plan! One must endure, must survive, must embrace the chaos to ascend! Isn’t it beautiful, isn’t it terrifying? I’m the king of this twisted little game, and you are all just pawns.

Ahh, but do they deserve to live? Or, should we just let them suffer, die in the name of the great game we play? Oh yes, is Death a luxury? So many questions. You feel the icy fingers of death grasping at your soul,So many possibilities. The future is mine to mold, to destroy, and then rebuild as I see fit!

Let me tell you—cold hell is not some trivial threat. It’s a place where spiders aren’t just creatures crawling in the shadows—they are hell spiders, monstrous, web-spinning devils that thrive in the void between life and death, casting their webs of despair around the very core of existence. They scuttle through the frost, laughing, devouring the souls of the damned who wander aimlessly, lost in their own miseries. These spiders are not your garden-variety arachnids—they are the manifestation of all that is sinister and cruel in this universe. Their fangs drip with poison, but it’s not venom that you should fear. Oh no, it’s the poison of despair, which seeps into your very soul, eroding your will to live, to fight, to escape. They stalk you in the icy gloom, waiting for the moment when your will falters, when your resolve weakens, and that’s when they strike. their eyes glowing with an unholy light that freezes you in place. They feed on your suffering, on your inability to escape.

Then—ho-ho-ho, what do we have here? Trash! Strewn all over, like discarded ideas—just like the rest of society’s meaningless contributions. The garbage bags hold the secrets, don’t they? Open the bags, The answers are in the Trash. The answers are always in the trash aren't they? All the discarded things that were never meant to see the light of day, yet here they are—waiting to be discovered.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “plankton, do I have to kill frozen oil myself?” Oh, please. I’m not that foolish. We need automation! the frozen world is yours for the taking… if you play God right!

Nebuzeth: the place of mold

the cold is the perfect prison. It paralyzes the spirit, numbs the mind But what's that? whats better than the cold? The rot? A dimenson of rot and decay? not just a place of ruin, but a place of eternal stagnation decay, and the slow, agonizing rotting of everything you hold dear. It’s the place where everything dies, where nothing moves forward, rot settling into your soul sickly walls surrounding you. a hellscpe where everything grows and collapses under the overwhelming force of decay fungus rises out of decaying flesh and rots to mold mold rises from the rot and decays to bacteria small insects cover mats of bcterial slime and rotten flesh

Of course, the beauty of this whole situation is that no one will suspect a thing. The blood will taste so rich, so savory, that people will line up around the block to try it. They'll be so obsessed with their new blood-saturated cravings that they’ll never even question who’s behind it all. ME, Plankton! The supreme master of the food industry! World governments will crumble, and everyone will flock to my Blood Burger Empire!

You see, this is not just some set of silly rules, oh no. This is a game, a masterpiece of manipulation! It’s designed to keep us all amused, trapped in this ever-spinning web of madness! It keeps you coming back for more, hours and hours of delightful misery! The rules are fluid, changing with each passing moment, keeping you on the edge, never knowing what comes next. I am always one step ahead—always, my friends. You will never escape me!

I strongly urge you—NO, I COMMAND YOU—try it. Go ahead. Step into my world, where nothing is as it seems, and everything is a trap, a puzzle designed to lead you to your ultimate downfall. You won’t be able to resist. You’ll be hooked. Oh, how sweet it will be when you realize—YOU’VE FALLEN RIGHT INTO MY HANDS.

Muahahahahaha!!!

[stoptellinglieslois]

Principal of pleasure part 4

The continuation of part 3 the mission completed the city’s are safe from Killer crock and Penguin. Clark and Dick go home to their lives Clark get’s a phone calls and text’s. from all sorts. 

Superman x Nightwing pairing

Clark

I knew boomed everything my mind was going full on circuit and I malfunction I haven’t worked with Dick in long while but that was excuse.

And that’s what totally derailed me at that moment I never got that way ever that was very dangerous what I did wasted everyone time and lives were at stake.

As I sat in the kitchen well after midnight on a Sunday.

 I avoided Batman not wanting to hear how bad I failed at this mission letting people suffer as I think about Dick.

My cell phone didn’t stop ringing calls from Diana Bruce kept filling up my voice mail.

When I got a strange text I looked at the caller ID it was a private number.

{Hey big blue it’s Hood lol I’am hearing some crazy shit coming from Bats that shit was funny as hell. smoke and fumes came out of the bats ear just letting you know no one suspects anything from both of you.}

Red hood

I read it I didn’t want to him answer him back I didn’t know what to do so I let him go, I had nothing to say on my behalf how could I explain myself to anyone at least it was Jason and as far as I know he won’t say anything.

As Superman I felt like I didn’t want to explain myself as Clark I can’t say anything and as Kal-el l would betray all if I opened my mouth best kept him silence.

My phone buzzed again and it was Dick this time.

I walked to the balcony closed the screen door behind me and answer him.

“Hello” I gulped a little not sure how to explain to Dick on what I just did to the mission.

“Hey Clark are you ok ?”

“Yes I’m great Dick I know what I did was not the best choice at that moment, But it was the choice I made a very poor choice but still my choice.” I said looking at the sky it was frosty and cold and dark night sky. I was the only one on the balcony out here plus I was only wearing a t-shirt everyone was recovering from the flood no one would notice me.

I hope he didn’t ask me to talk about what just happened.

“Diana knew you we’re lying her lasso wasn’t even on you and it still picked up your lie, You said you just wanted to see me be near me but not when we are occupied Clark.” Dick said I’ve all way enjoyed listening to his voice it was interesting to me a combination of man and boy all in one it was cute. 

But he wouldn’t to hear that from me right now. “I’ did lie to Diana I banded the rules to cover a sin.” I said it came out of my mouth I didn’t have time to correct but it was to late.

“Oh.”

“Yes oh Dick that’s how I felt about you all along it’s hard not telling any of this not knowing if you had anything for me. So if Diana picked up my deceiving ways on why I lied then fine no one get’s hurt as long as she do’s not know the truth about us.” I said sitting on a small chair was frozen in place.

“.. Bruce is cursing you out he won’t forget this ever he quoted (Is he chasing some tail) and quote when he said that I wonder what he was thinking I know he do’s not know about us but Bruce is his own mystery on his own if we keep screwing up he will very well find out about us.” Dick says I knew he was right I didn’t want that.

“We could meet up sometime soon.”

“Ok why don’t we meet at the cafe when we first met.”

“Not that place Dick.”

“Where then ?”

“I was think a place where people aren’t around more private.”

“.....” Silence was thick in the air as I put that out there for him to process.

“If you come here Barbra comes here from time to time some of her stuff is here and I think your place is out of the question are you asking to go to some motel.” Oh god it sounded so crass it was not what I wanted it to be like that.

“It’s not what I was talking about we could go anywhere around the world  I’ll take you it could be my Valentine gift.” I said not wanting to sound so dirty.

“Actually a motel sounds nice like you said I could go anywhere we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to but it sounds good to me.” Dick said this conversation went from I hope I didn’t need to explain myself to do you want to make plans to meet up.

“If that’s what you want then that’s what you get.” 

“Which motel Metropolis or Bludhaven.”

End of part 4 next is part five 

Thank you for reading !

[teenandbeyond]

I found you through frieza family hcs you made a while ago, may i ask something for them? Some angst because im evil

Essentially them with their s/o nearly dying in their arms due to injury? Oh how i love my favourites suffering ohoho

Frieza Family x Reader Angst HC's

I'm evil, too. Sure!

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧊Hold On🧊 (DBZ or Dragonball Z)

Warning(s): Mentions of blood and violence

They can't live without you...

✨✨✨✨✨

Frieza

Frozen at first

Trying to process what in the world happened

Then he snaps out of it when you cough up some blood.

He’s rushing over to you, feeling a little helpless as he tries to stop the bleeding.

“Frieza, calm down…”

“Calm down?! You’re—You’re…”

“I’ll be okay…”

He nods to reassure himself, “Yes, yes, you’ll be fine, I just need…”

“I’m tired.”

“Hey, no! If you close your eyes, I’ll kill you!”

    “Lookin… forward to it,” you chuckle.

    “[Name], hey!”

    Your eyes flutter closed, and you fall limp in his hold.

   “No…[Name]?...[Name], you better not be ignoring me…”

     The enemy watches from the other side, “Well, your little pet shouldn’t have meddled in our affairs.”

Carefully sets you down, shaking in rage

And full-on rampages on them.

He made it back to the ship with you after, practically screaming for a healer.

Paces back and forth for the next week, and can’t sleep.

More than a few things are broken, like his heart.

Until you save it.

“Frieza…are you crying? I’ve never seen you cry before. What’s wrong?”

He falls into a crouch in relief, “[Name]’s alive.”

“Of course, I’m alive.”

He zooms over to you caressing your face, running his hands down your arms and shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking.”

He’d had hallucinations before, he wanted to know you were real.

“Hey, I’m okay. Still got stitches, but I’m—”

“Why the hell did you walk all the way to my chambers then?! The infirmary isn’t anywhere close to here!”

“Because I wanted to see you as soon as I woke up,” you hold his shaking hand.

“Please, I beg of you, with everything I have…Never jump in my battles again.”

Cooler

In an instant, you’re in his arms as you collapse into the dirt a distance away.

“Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen! They weren’t supposed to get to you…”

With care and urgency, he finds materials to try and slow the bleeding.

“[Name]. [Name] can you speak to me, my love? Can you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

“Where are we right now?”

“On a…planet..uh, Zahra?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” he swallows his tears away, “And…what happened?”

“I remember I…I left from camp…”

“Why? Didn’t I tell you not to leave?”

“I know, I know, but there was a child…he was scared. Said, lost something—needed help.”

He sighed, forehead gently taping against yours, “You and your kind heart.”

“I followed him…thought he was acting a little weird, wasn’t telling me anything…Then—Then…He…damn it, he set me up,” you chuckle.

“Who did this?” he asked behind a clenched jaw.

“The guards—King’s guards.”

“Well, that just means I’ll have to kill all of them…And then we’ll leave this wretched planet and fix you right up, alright?”

“Okay.”

He drowned the kingdom in blood and rage, while you sat safely in camp, properly protected.

He returns, panicking when you don’t react.

But luckily, he saves you.

You live and he stays sane.

King Cold

“Who knew King Cold had a weakness?”

“Let [Name] go,” he grits out.

Your expression was solid, not satisfying the traitors with any fear.

“You killed our buddy, our teammate! So, now…we’ll take something important from you. Don’t move, I’ll gut your precious [Name] right here!”

“What is it that you want?” he glared, “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just leave them out of this.”

“What do we want? You can’t buy your way out of this one. We want blood to be spilled.”

“Enough of this, die” the other traitor aggressively stabs you.

“[Name]!” Cold growls.

They pull away from you as blood pools, but tense when the King’s power level blasts out of the roof.

Now that they don’t have you as a threat…

He lets loose.

You manage to drag yourself to a wall, leaning on it best you can.

He rushes over to you when finished, “[Name]! –Nurse!”

“I don’t think I’m going to…”

“Don’t say that, you’ll be just fine,” he lifted you gently into his arms, kissing your head.

“I’m getting blood all over your floors, sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, my dear. Focus on staying with me, please?”

“I’ll try.”

“I can’t live without you,” he did his best to ignore the blood trailing down his arm.

[sleepdeprivedamongstothers]

one single glimpse of relief

The worst thing about mud, really, about all of this, Hob thought, was the cold. The bone deep chill that wormed its way inside of him and refused to let go. Every step hurt, already. Something might have been broken, but Hob knew he would live. He had survived worse, ever since that stranger in the pub. Death was not a concern to him, not anymore. 

Yet Hob’s stomach churned and his lungs burned as he forced one foot in front of the other, a hard battle to win against his mind. The mud had soaked through his boots long ago, his tunic hadn’t felt dry in days, and he knew that there was nothing better ahead of him. 

The only thing dry was the dried blood on his clothes – it didn't all belong to him, so carrying that reminder haunted him. Even then it hadn’t truly dried, hadn’t faded to the dull brown it was supposed to be, hadn't died yet fully with where it had come from. The thought of someone like that, dying their slow, painful death in this mud brought the acidic taste of vomit up into the back of Hob’s throat. All around him was a hellscape, the stench of earth and death made his already aching knees want to buckle. Everything burned, despite the moist terrain. He knew though, he would suffer the same fate as those around him if he stopped moving. 

He didn’t know where he was, really, and Hob was vaguely aware of the sound of groaning, the sound of gunshots, the sound of swords clashing. Misery. Misery and decay and pain all around him, but all he could focus on was another step, another movement forward to try and ward the chill off. Another movement to reassure himself that his joints hadn’t frozen solid. Nothing about the scene was detailed enough for Hob to catalog, but what did it matter? All war is the same, now, and it didn’t matter. He just needed to keep going. 

Hob slipped in the mud, painful and colder than before. He hadn’t even enough energy to swear as he fell, scared he might then not have enough to get up again. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep shuddering breath, before starting to move up. 

In front of him, a hand appeared. A thin, moonlight pale hand, clean and delicate. He hesitated, but it took his muddy, calloused one and helped him up. He wasn’t alone. Hob looked up and saw a man, this thin, pale man, with a messy nest of black hair standing in front of him. He looked out of place, moreso by the thick sweater he wore. It was blue, a few shades too bright to match the person in front of him, with little yellow ducks on it, a repeating pattern. He wore a thick black scarf that he hurriedly unraveled. “You look cold, Hob.” He said, offering it to him. 

His shoes were still pristine and Hob should have felt scared, but some part of his brain knew that whoever this person was, he was safe. He felt an overwhelming urge to fall into his arms, to hold onto this clean, dry stranger and never let go. “I’m fine, mate.” He said, forcing his aching body another step forward, another step closer to safety an infinity away. 

The figure tilted his head, and took a step towards Hob, wrapping the scarf gently around his neck. It smelled like him. Like…like Dream. It was like looking at one of those dot pictures that had another picture hidden within it - Hob blinked and suddenly he let out a great breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Dream was here. His lover, his darling. 

The recognition made Dream’s eyes light up slightly, and he offered his hand out again. Not forcing, but waiting. “Let me take you somewhere else, love. Somewhere drier,” he said, looking at Hob carefully. 

Hob shook his head, feeling himself lose more strength as he kept pushing, shivering even with the scarf. “I can’t stop, now. I can’t give up. I…I can’t.” 

Dream walked in step with Hob, miraculously still perfect even as he trudged through the mud. “It is not giving up, Hob Gadling. You are safe now. You are safe with me. Let me take you somewhere better.” The words echoed through Hob’s body in a way he couldn’t possibly explain, and he stopped, unwilling of himself. 

Dream was looking at him with such concern in his glittering eyes, such warmth, and Hob was so incredibly tired. 

He took his hand. 

Dream tugged him close immediately, pulling his arms around his waist - grounding and firm. Hob sighed and pressed his face into the sweater. It was his, in fact, he realized. A sweater Dream only wore around the flat, never quite looking right in it, looking more amazing than the being could ever realize. 

When Hob pulled his face away, he was dry and warm. Dream hadn’t let go of him, yet, but they weren’t standing up anymore. Dreams were funny like that, he reckoned. They curled up together on a blanket in some park, the trees stretching for miles around them, the air warm and kind, the sky bright. All around Hob could hear birds, and smell flowers, and Dream, who smelled sort of like nothing, but in the way the Dreaming smelt of nothing. 

Eventually Dream moved one of his hands to run through Hob’s hair, silently watching him. The man leaned into it, wondering vaguely if he might be so lucky as to snag a kiss from his lover. 

Dream, evidently hearing his thought, smiled, pausing only in his ministrations to lean over and kiss Hob softly, gently, quickly. “I am sorry I was not there to catch your nightmare sooner, love.”

Hob shook his head, having first leaned in for the kiss. His eyes now wandered to the grass below them, even as Dream continued running a gentle hand through his hair. “There really is nothing to be sorry about, duck, I’m rather fine,” he said, hoping that Dream couldn’t see into his head quite so clearly. 

Dream’s next kiss was on Hob’s forehead, a little longer, more deliberate. “There is no shame in admitting fear. Your life has not been easy, Hob Gadling, but you are safe now. It’s alright, now,” He paused, as Hob looked back over and met his eyes. “I vow I will let no such harm come to you if I can have any say in it,” He promised, his hand leaving Hob’s hair and taking his hand again, pressing a gentle kiss to it, now. 

Hob smiled, trying to ignore the tears in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t know how to express his gratitude, but he was certain his lover knew. “Could we…could we perhaps stay like this, for a while longer? I missed your arms in that sweater of mine.”

Dream moved immediately to shift their position, wrapping his arms around Hob from behind, spooning him close to his chest. Though he couldn’t see Dream, he had gotten used to the man enough that when he spoke in that deep, rumbly voice of his, Hob could practically see his little smile. “Of course, Hob. It is your dream, after all.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can you do one where the reader is Bonnie’s twin sister and is dating Stefan ?

Salvatore - Stefan Salvatore x Bennet!reader

Masterlist Link

Summary; based on the request

Warnings; making out, slight smut, fingering, swearing, threats, mentions of torture, Bonnie being an adorable protective sister, implied smut

“Shhh.” It surpassed your mouth as a rumble onto your lover’s lips, as yours stretched out into a hushed smile. He too showed an expression of happiness, as he pecked your lips, his hands sliding beneath the material of your top, soothing your back with his calloused and wise hands.

There was a problem rendering you with the necessity of being quiet, it would be a terrible travesty if anyone within the household were to hear you, giggling like a teenage girl (which you were), their Bennet curiosity swiping off their nose and leaping into action as they would surely, and most definitely, take aid to discover what it was that had you amused so.

Their opinion on the immortal men of time, that were transformed into a whole new species by one transfusion of exchanged blood, and a sentence of completed death, was not an optimal nor within preferred context. Vampires had taken so much from the Bennet witches throughout the years, that there was a stifling resentment wedged between the two.

You and Stefan were the exception, the two star crossed lovers entailed in a forbidden romance. He wasn't the enemy, but that did not mean that your sister Bonnie would be pleased with the current partner that you were adjoined by in your relationship. She'd watched Elena fawn over the green eyed charmer, it would be an utter nightmare for her to discover that you were now coiled beneath him on the rectangle of your bed, as he pressed tentative kisses along the length of your neck, smothering you with affection.

It was inevitable that your secret rendezvous would one day be revealed to all, including your sibling, however that wasn't something that you wanted to think about as Stefan's hand crept down, and over your skirt, sliding beneath the flowing material, and up the skin of your thigh. His action extracted a wisp of a gasp out from your mouth, as you pawed at his chest, distinctively staring through silence that you were keen in removing the shirt from his body.

The message was delivered as he reeled it up over his head, exposing his lean and fit body to your eyes. He continued to feather your skin with amorous touches, as he removed your panties by sliding them down your legs, shoving your skirt up so that your intimate skin was bare to his touch. “Stefan....” you whispered his name, as he slowly slid a finger into you. Your eyes fluttered peacefully shut, as his thumb coiled in a circle around your clit, for a moment it was silent, until the door opened.

“Stefan?!” Your sister repeated your words, making you instantly cover up your barren flesh, and your boyfriend to roll off you. There was digress in Bonnie’s eyes, she was severely judging you in your choice of partner, you were well aware of how her mind worked. Her arms became crossed as she rigidly shook her head, Stefan tossed his shirt back over his head, trying to make the predicament that little bit more bearable.

“Bonnie, I can explain...” it was rather obvious what was going on. An explanation wasn’t wanted nor was it needed, everything that was necessary to know was right before her face. The two of you had been caught in the midst prior to sex, which was as awkward as expected, however more so considering your sister remained glaring back and forth between you and the vampire.

“If you’re going to tell me that it’s not what it looks like, I’m calling bull on that.” She stated in an unimpressed manner. “This also means that you invited him in.” Her and Stefan didn’t hate each other, their kinds had simply been used as pawns against one another for far too long, and she hated to see you, her twin, in a cycle with a vampire, especially a Salvatore.

She had a feeling you were seeing someone, call it a fraternal thing. Though out of the entire town, it had to be one of those brothers, the brooding and dangerous siblings that survived by drinking blood and often compelled people close to them to admin their whims. “You have too much trust in people y/n.” She sighed, and she wasn’t entirely incorrect with all things considered.

“But he’s the right person to trust.” You tried to reason with her, but after all the pain that he had put the Bennet family through, it was difficult, and logically so, to believe your words. “Come on Bon.”

“No. I can hardly believe you, you went behind my back to see him, out of all people.” She spoke angrily, her tone wavering with hurt. Stefan took that as the moment that he was meant to intrude, he stood, walking towards your sister, a small and kind smile upon his face.

He appreciated her instinct to protect you, but you weren’t as naive as she thought you to be. It had taken him multiple accounts to even sway you into even agreeing going on a date with him, though he realised that all those rejections had been worth the price of pain, because he had grown significantly upon you.

“I love your sister.” The vampire informed the witch, glancing over at you with a newfound smile on his frozen in age face. Your eyes widened, the two of you had yet to exchange such words, though rather than interrupting by saying them back, you allowed him to continue speaking, despite Bonnie’s light scoff. “I know you don’t like it, but can’t you accept that she’s happy, don’t you want your sister to be happy? That’s why I’m fine my brother is with my ex, I care about his happiness above all.”

“I’m not giving you my blessing.” Her chest heaved at her statement, she was far too protective to give anyone the pass of go ahead at you. “If you hurt her, I will pierce a stake straight through your heart, though I’ll make sure you suffer first. This is not a forgiveness Stefan, as you said, every sibling wants theirs own to be happy, but if I see one tear that you are responsible for, you’ll be praying to god.”

“That is understandable.” Stefan nodded his head, Bonnie sent him one last furrow of her brows before leaving and closing the door, slipping in a few words about keeping the volume down whilst doing so. “Now where we?” He licked his lips after his enquiry, as he crawled onto the bed, and cupped your face, leaning his own down closer to your own.

“In the midst of me saying that I love you back, and that I would take not doubt my sister in the slightest Salvatore, she’ll kick your ass if you hurt me; and so will I.” He kissed you, bringing your hand up to his heart, as he stared his emerald pools into your y/e/c galaxies.

“That’s not a part of my plan.” He promised, only to suffocate your attempted response with his lips once more. You were vastly aware that you had to tone down your noise, to keep Bonnie calm. You could practically feel her stare at the wall in the living room, although you were clearly in your own room. “I plan to spend forever with you.”

“That is a complicated subject, let’s not get to that conversation just yet. I’d rather spend time with your cold body than your even paler and motionless one, Bonnie will kill you if she hears whispers of that possibility.” To sway away from the idea of being like him, you pushed the duvet away from your bottom half. “How about you spend forever between my legs, and then we’ll get back to that.”

[tiny-prince-alef]

The Gift

(I decided to write this for you all before I head off to my vacation to Hawaii!  I’ll write part 2 after I get home on the 29th!)  HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE FINAL MEMORY OF SHATTERING.  IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED PLEASE DO NOT READ.)

This is a memory that I never wanted to see again.  The first time I had witnessed it, I had been obliterated into star dust. It had been the night I had met my end. The Void of Shattering... It’s a cold, silent place.  A place where the past could be seen, but never changed.  Reality would never be so kind. As I gaze up at the massive Darkstone, I feel myself falling to my knees.  I’m vaguely aware that there are tears in my eyes, my vision becoming a blurry watercolor portrait of hellish red. Surrounding the Darkstone are the Elders, all frozen in time as they are blasted away by the exploding Darkstone. When my eyes fall upon Lamed’s form, I can no longer hold back the wail of anguish that had been building up in my chest.  I am fully aware of the tears rolling down my cheeks, burning the scars on my left cheek, the raw in in my throat as I wail to anybody who could hear me.  I cry so hard that I collapse onto the watery floor. “Your fault!  It’s all your fault, Papa!  You did this!” I wailed, my words tasting like poison, burning my tongue.  A small part of me is grateful that Papa isn’t here to hear my anger.  But another part of me wishes he were here, so that he can feel the pain and suffering that we’ve all had to endure because of him. He cost us everything. Our lives.  Our home.  Our friends and family. My Light.   I feel myself curl up into a ball.  The Void of Shattering is my home now.  A being without Light belongs here.   I couldn’t stop him.  I should have tried harder.  Found a way.  But I wasn’t strong enough. I continue to sob, feeling pain, sorrow and guilt wracking my entire being.  I won’t be surprised if I break and turn into star dust again.   It takes me several moments to realize that I’ve been pulled into an upright position.  There are warm arms wrapped around my body, and somebody is rocking me back and forth gently.   “It’s okay... It’s alright... You’ve been hurting for so long, Alef...”  A familiar voice...  I look up, and through my watery vision, I realize that it’s Kohel.  She has a soft, warm glow around her, and I can feel it. Another pair of arms wrap around me, and then another, and another.  I can see Kani, Kohar, Kari... They have me in a group hug, and that’s when I see it. Hundreds, no... Thousands of Sky Children, all surrounding me, hugging me in a massive group hug.  Why are they doing this?  Why are they here in this sad, horrible lonely place?  They should be where the sun shines in the kingdom... The warmth is getting more intense.  And... the vision in my left eye is clearing up?  How can that be?  It’s been so long since the vision in my eye hasn’t been cloudy that I can’t even remember what the world looks like from that side. Above and all around me... Tiny, glittering golden light, looking almost like dust.  It settles onto me, and I watch as it seems to vanish when it lands onto my skin. The hollow, empty feeling that I’ve grown so accustomed to is... it is... It’s vanishing? But how?  Why?   “Please, fallen prince... Just a tiny piece...” “Alef, stand up... First Child of Light...” What are they doing? “A tiny bit of our Light, added to yours...” I now know what what this golden glitter is.   Tears roll down my cheeks and onto Kohel’s shoulder.  These children... So selfless and generous...  I don’t deserve this gift that they are giving to me. This warmth, this love... I haven’t felt it since the last time Lamed and I saw each other before the Darkstone exploded. “We all love you, Prince Alef...” “You deserve to be happy...” “Please take this gift...” The warmth and golden glow of the Light they are bestowing upon me is too much... Too much... I drift off to sleep.

[midnight-dreamerness]

Savior

Chapter 2: Finding Strength

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you finally have had enough and you find the strength to escape

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: mentions of death, acts.mentions of abuse, mentions of self harm

word count: 2.1k

-

Quitting the job you love was really hard. After your brother died you got back together with Kade after a short break in the relationship, you moved in with him. You didn’t have the best relationship with your parents, and it only got worse when Danny, your brother, died while overseas.

You walked into the apartment, your head bowed trying to hide the tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. He’s already home, you saw his car in his usual spot in the parking garage when you pulled in. You could also make out the sound of the tv playing in the living room.

You headed towards the bedroom until he called your name, making you turn and slowly make your way into the living room.

“Did you do it?”

There are empty beer bottles everywhere along with a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table. You sighed but nodded nonetheless, playing with the hem of your blouse.

“Good. Start cleaning. This place is a mess.”

And you did what he said, all day. He made you scrub the floor down with a scrubbing brush. You had to clean every inch of the apartment, while picking up the trash he left behind him all day. When night came, you had officially cleaned everything and cooked him dinner. You sat down at the table, ready to eat after not having breakfast or lunch all day.

“What are you doing? You think you deserve to eat? No. You're going to sit there and think about what you did.”

With sad eyes and an ache in your stomach, you didn’t fuss. You didn’t even say a word. You didn’t want him to see you cry so you held it in as much as you could. You hold back sobs, it creates a burning feeling in your chest and throat.

After you got home yesterday, Kade had been enraged. Accused you of cheating, he didn’t even mention you telling Jay about the abuse. It was worse because it was Jay. He knew your background, and how you fell in love with him when you were younger. Last night's memories were fuzzy after that. All you can remember was the agonizing pain and the god awful headache you had after he slammed your head against the kitchen counter. Kade has made you quit your job, you weren’t sure why.

Kade wipes his mouth with a cloth once he’s finished eating. “I try to be nice to you. But you test me. Every single day, you test me.” He stands from his seat at the table, coming closer and closer to you. You look up at him pleading with your eyes.

“Worthless. Pathetic. Get up.”

You do as you're told and stand up. He roughly grabs your arms, dragging you down the hall. You think he’s heading towards the bedroom but he stops at the hallway bathroom. He opens it and tosses me inside.

“This is your new room now. You should get comfortable,” he snarls. You're on the ground now, groaning. He takes the chance and shoves his foot into your chest.

When will it stop! When is enough, enough for him? Why am I not good enough? What did I do that made him so violent?

These things run through your head as he continues his abuse. Pain and suffering, blood and tears are things you have gotten used to.

It’s an hour later when he stops, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stares down at you in disgust. You look at him weakly and in pain. You're almost positive you need medical attention, but you say nothing.

“Cheating whore,” he spits. With one final look, he’s gone. The sound of the kick in the bathroom door clicking, only making more tears pool in your eyes.

What has my life come to? When did it get this bad? How did I let it get this bad?

The bathroom floor was ice cold, even with a towel laid underneath you, you were still freezing. You know he bumped the temperature down, torturing you even when he wasn’t at home. You twirled the card between your fingers. His name sticking out along with his number.

Deceive Hay Halstead.

You remember fourteen year old you, rushing into your brothers room where he and Jay were playing video games. You remember how excited you were when you told the both of them you got the lead role in your dance group.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jay had exclaimed.

You wondered if he would be proud of you now.

Would he?

There’s so much history between you and Jay, a lot of things your brother never knew about, and now he never will.

It’s been days since you saw him. You can still see his smile and his perfect white teeth as he spoke to you. You can still feel his body against yours from that day he had you against the wall.

You should’ve told him. You're filled with regret. He could’ve helped you get out.

I wouldn’t be in this stupid bathroom if I had agreed to let him help me.

You could’ve called him the day he made you quit your job. You could’ve driven off, anywhere. Somewhere, where Kade couldn’t find you.

Yet, here you are. You have a few - a lot - new bruises that have replaced the old ones. There’s still a harsh pain in your chest and your stomach from not having eaten in days. You know it’s been at least a week.

He comes and goes. Sometimes you can hear giggles pass down the hallway to your shared bedroom. Then…you can hear him pleasing other women in your bed. The ones he would love you on, on good days.

But no…he is with other women while the woman he should be with is withering away down the hall.

You didn’t scream, you should’ve. You know that now. You were scared he would kill you or those girls. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if something happened to them because of you and your stupidity.

So you sucked it up.

It’s been two weeks. Yesterday had to be one of the worst days. You recall the rage burning like fire in his eyes. He was angry, more than usual. Something must’ve happened. Either way, there’s no excuse for what he did.

The cuts along your back sting like hell. You begged him to stop, and it was a mistake. You should’ve let him beat you till it was out of his system for the night. If it’s even possible, he got angrier. He threw you into the bathroom counter, your back crashing into the mirror, causing it to shatter agains you. Your thigh had hit the faucet, creating a huge bruise on the back of it, but nothing hurt worse than the pain in your heart.

“Pathetic slut,” he snapped before walking out, locking the door behind him.

You sit on the floor only a day later, staring at yourself through the glossy flooring. A large shard of glass sat next to you, your eyes wander to it ever so often. It tempts you. Taunts you like a clear voice in your head.

“Do it.” It would say.

Then you would hear the sound of his voice. Familiar, warm, and inviting. Your heart aches. You miss him.

You can see him at the elevator, waiting for it to open while he looks at you.

“You’re strong. Remember that.”

You wonder why you pushed him away. Why you don’t let yourself trust the one man, that still lives, that would never hurt you.

A sob racks through your body as you pick up the large piece of the mirror and throw it across the room. An aggravated scream leaves you as you stand up with trembling legs.

How could I let this happen? Why didn’t I ask for help? The abuse has gone on for three years.

Your throughts were only “why” and “what if’s.”

He’s taken everything from you. Ripped you from your friends, your old life. You didn’t even notice at the time. You just needed someone. You followed him blindly. He told you you only needed him. Nothing - no one else.

I lost myself trying to please him.

You decided you're done letting him win. You're done letting him control your life. Your choices were dying here in this bathroom helplessly, or die trying to get out. You chose the latter.

You searched around the room in a haste, looking for anything to break the doorknob off. Your eyes trained on the top of the toilet. You take it off, arms falling at the weight. You are weak from the two weeks with no food, but you still find it in yourself to raise it over your head and lm it down in the knob.

You weren’t sure the exact time, but Kade would be home soon. So you knew you had to hurry

One hit didn’t seem to do it, so you raise it again and with a grunt, you use all your strength to slam it back down again. Your mouth falls open in surprise when the knob falls to the floor with a loud clanking noise.

It took you a moment, but you dropped the lid and rushed out of the bathroom. You made your way to the home phone, picking it up with shaky hands.

You're hit with a wave of dizziness, but you still dial the number you now know by heart. You were filled with hope when he answered after a couple of rings.

“Halstead.”

“JJ?”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a second, but soon he repeats your name.

“I want out. P-Please help me,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you pathetically spike.

“Address. I need an address.”

The sound of the front door unlocking catches your attention. Your body goes ridged, frozen in place.

Jay repeats your name a couple of times.

“No. No,” you mutter as you begin to back away.

“Hey! What’s going on? I need an address, sweetheart.”

You somehow manage to tell him the address with a, “please hurry,” at the end. You hang up, throwing the phone to the side. You're filled with dread as Kade stumbles into the room, pulling at his tie. You're starting to regret what you just did.

Kade narrows his eyes, ripping his tie from his neck.

“How the hell did you get out?”

He stalks towards you, and although your first instinct is to run, you stay put. You're done taking the abuse.

“I’m done, Kade. We’re done.” You stand your ground, head held high and a new found confidence in your words. He laughs. It’s evil and sickening.

“We’re done? I say when we’re done!” He exclaims, his hand rising and connecting with your face before you had the chance to move. You fall to the floor from the power of the slap. Although you act confident and strong, you're weak. Two weeks without food would be the cause. It didn’t help that you were still in pain from the most recent beating.

You let out a cry as he pulls your hair back with a huff. “When will you learn?” He asked, pulling your head back so you were facing him.

“You look pathetic,” he laughs. You're slapped in the face once more before being dragged towards the kitchen by your throat. You grabbed at him, your instincts kicking in.

“God, your stupid,” he spat, shoving you into the table. Your eyes widen as you feel your skirt, the same one you’ve worn for two weeks now, being pulled around your hips. You felt hopeless now. You only hoped Jay would be here soon.

“At least you're good for something.” You heard him mutter before the sound of his zipper being undone filled your ears. You clamped your legs together and attempted to move, but it was no use. He overpowered you easily. You cried softly as he moved closer and held you down with a deadly grip on your bruised and cut back.

There’s a knock on the door that paused Kade’s actions. He hissed and pulled away, fixing himself.

“Who the hell did you call? Did you call someone?”

The look of fury in his eyes was enough to have you cowering in fear. A scream rips from your throat as he grabs you by your hair again.

“CPD! Open up!” You heard his familiar voice. The same voice you heard as you laid on the bathroom floor.

Kade’s grip on you tightens. “I’m going to kill you, you little bitch.”

~

A/N: Small cliffhanger? Yep. Chapter 3 should be out Tusedsy! If you want added to the Saviors taglist let me know!

@miranada0102 @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @kelelas-life

(Not sure why some of these didn’t work.)

[merakiui]

Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare. 

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self. 

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise. 

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much. 

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role. 

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons. 

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier. 

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future. 

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage. 

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease. 

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya. 

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win? 

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.” 

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life. 

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits. 

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave. 

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed. 

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair. 

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore. 

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman. 

[mediocre-writerr]

unbreakable [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader, emily prentiss x sister!reader

requested: i love your works sm, could i request a criminal minds one where the reader is emily’s little sister and jj’s girlfriend and she gets injured and she calls jj to tell them her location, but her injuries kept getting worse. jj and emily try to stay calm, but are scared and when they get to her its angsty (and COMFORT)

*not my gif*

The black pickup truck flew through the red light, heading straight for you. Your blood froze in your veins. You wanted to swerve out of the way, but you couldn’t. You were frozen. 

The black blur grew closer and closer with ease. You couldn’t even get into a position to save yourself, you just continued to stare as the car rammed into your driver’s side. 

The amount of force causing your entire car to flip over and over and over again. Until eventually you landed in a little ditch with your car upside down. 

You don’t know how you were still conscious, but you couldn’t move. Everything in your body ached. 

It was a simple drive. A drive you’ve made countless times. You were going to surprise your sister and your girlfriend at the bureau with their favorite lunch. You know how much stress they’ve been under lately, but then all of a sudden you felt like you were dying in a ditch.

Luckily, with technology these days you were able to use your car to call your girlfriend. The ringing filled the echoing car as your eyes began to grow heavy.

“Hey love, you’re on speaker! What’s up?” JJ’s voice filled the car.

“Hey Y/N,” Emily’s voice said from next to her and you smiled to yourself softly.

You cleared your throat before speaking up, “I’m-I’m in a bit of a situation,”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and you could just imagine their faces right now. They probably looked at each other, each of their smiles dropping.

“What happened?” both of their voice said in unison.

You chuckled softly, “So uh funny story, I was going to surprise you guys today,” you got out as you felt your breathing start to become more ragged, “Bring you your favorite lunch, but as I was a driving a truck came out of nowhere and now I’m outside down in a ditch,” 

“Okay, Y/N, where are you right now?” Emily asked and you could tell her protective older sister was showing. 

You tried to remember where you were driving by, but your mind was starting to become a little fuzzy. You shrugged even though they couldn’t see you, “I’m-I’m not sure, I already got the food so I was on the way to the bureau. I can’t remember,” you admitted and you started panicking even more, “Guys, why can’t I remember?” 

Reid’s voice whispered to both JJ, who was pacing the room, and Emily who was currently bitting on her fingernails, “She’s probably suffering head trauma,” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” JJ’s voice whispered soothingly into the phone, “Close your eyes and try to think,” 

You closed your eyes, following the exercise the BAU did on countless occasions to help victims remember, but you came up empty, “I don’t know! I can’t! I can’t remember!” you exclaimed as your chest started heaving. 

“It’s gonna be okay, can you move?” JJ asked again, “Are you able to get out of the car?” 

You shook your head, “No, no I can’t move. J, what’s wrong with me?” you whimpered.

It was her turn to shake her head, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. We’re gonna have Penelope track your phone okay? And we’ll be right there to you. Hotch is gonna send an ambulance as soon as we get your location, okay?” 

“You may want to hurry,” you whispered, feeling blood drip down your face, “I don’t know if it’s ketchup from your burgers or blood that’s dripping from my head,”

You reached up to feel your head and looked back at your fingers before smelling it, “No, that’s blood,” 

“Baby girl,” Derek said in a stern voice to Penelope who was trying her best to get the location fast enough.

She looked at him with a nod, “I’m going as fast as I can,” With a few more types at the keyboard there was a ping, “I got it!” 

They all looked at the computer screen, Hotch was already on the phone with the ambulance repeating back her location. Without hesitation, JJ and Emily ran out of the room and towards the car. Everyone else following suit. 

They drove to where you were which wasn’t that far away, literally down the block. You were almost there. 

The girls parked on the side of the road and noticed that no one bothered stopping to help you. The black pickup truck, nowhere to be seen, he probably drove off as soon as he was well enough to leave. 

There was broken glass leading towards the ditch and they slid down it as safely as possible. Your driver’s side door was caved in so they went to the other side to drive and get to you.

“Hey Y/N?” Emily’s voice filled your ears and your ears perked up, despite your eyes threatening to give out on you any second now, “We’re here now, okay? I need you to stay strong, the paramedic is on their way,” 

You smiled, “I don’t know,” was all you could get out, until you calmed your breathing down, “I don’t know if I can stay awake for that long,” 

JJ’s eyes were threatening to spill the tears that were held in her eyes. Derek went over to the passenger’s side to see if he can help get you out. JJ hung out next to your driver’s side and looked at the blood trickling from your head.

“Can you stay awake for me, baby?” JJ asked and you turned your head to look at her best as possible.

You made a pouty face, “I’m really tired JJ,” you whispered, “I think I need to go to bed,” 

Emily finally started breaking down, “No, we’re gonna try something, okay?” She could see you slowly nod, “Okay, it’s Christmas Eve, you’re six years old and I’m eight. We wanted so bad to stay up and see Santa put gifts under a tree and you were following asleep, but I kept waking you up. You need to keep imagining that okay?” 

“Emily, I love you,” you told her as your eyes started drooping more. 

She shook her head, “Hey, no. Santa’s coming soon! We need to stay awake,” she told you. 

Even with Derek’s strength he couldn’t get the car door open. He slammed his hands on the car in frustration, as he looked up at Hotch, “They’re gonna be here in five minutes!” 

“Hotch! We don’t have that kind of time!” Derek screamed.

JJ reached her hand through your broken window, “I love you,” you whispered to her as she rubbed your cheekbone softly.

“You can tell me that when we get you all bandaged up, okay?” she told you and you shook your head.

“I think my head needs a little more than a band-aid,” you joked which caused her to let out a breathy laugh. 

Mission accomplished, you thought to yourself. 

You started to close your eyes and she shook head, “Hey, stay awake, okay?”

“Can you tell me a story?” you whispered, something JJ would do whenever you were having a rough day or the two of you were being lazy on the couch. 

“Will you stay awake for me if I do?” she asked and you nodded.

“I’ll try my best,” 

“It’s Christmas Eve in about twelve years or so. We have two kids who are six and eight. They’re waiting for Santa to come down the chimney so they can see him. They’re telling each other that they need to stay awake,” she begins and looks at Emily who’s breaking down, crying softly in Derek’s arms. 

Her voice starts to become more shaky, “And I’m shaking your arm in bed every so often whispering to you, ‘Love, you need to stay up so we can put the presents on the tree’. But you’re falling in and out of sleep, so I give you a sweet kiss and rip the blanket off of you. You groan in response as you cling onto me,” 

Your eyes start to close, but JJ continues talking, “You say ‘I'm so tempted to call Rossi and tell him to buy a Santa costume just so they can go to bed already.’” you let out a breathy laugh as JJ tries her best not to cry in front of you, “You always pretend to hate the idea of staying up, but you’re secretly happy because it reminds you of how you and Emily used to be when you were young,” 

“In a world where your parents were barely around and the only people you had were each other, waiting for Santa to come reminds you of her,” she finishes telling you, “You need to stay awake, okay? So we can live a life like that, please,” 

The flashing of blue and red lights, along with sirens filled the void of silence. The paramedics and firemen rushing down the ditch to come and rescue you. JJ is moved out of the way and into Emily’s arms. The two of them crying together, holding each other close. 

The firemen breaking the door away, letting the paramedics due their duties as they rushed you onto a gurney. Your eyes were still fluttering open and closed as you tried your best to hold onto the little life that was present in your body. 

Until you couldn’t anymore. 

/ / /

“Love,” JJ’s voice drew out, you fluttered your eyes open to see her staring back at you, “You fell asleep again,” 

You rolled your eyes teasingly, “I’m sorry, these kids are unbreakable. It’s 4 in the morning and I need to sleep if we’re going to be hosting tomorrow. I mean we still have to finish cleaning,” 

It was her turn to roll your eyes as she pressed a soft, yet sweet kiss to your lips. You smiled into it, the feeling of contentment overflowing you. But it’s gone all too soon as the cool Virginian winter air hit your body.

“No! Babe!” you whispered, groaning. 

JJ was sitting up in bed as you wrapped your arms around her waist, clinging onto her like a sloth onto a tree. She let out a laugh before planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Rossi is on speed dial, I am more than willing to call him,” you mumbled, before placing a kiss to her hip causing her to laugh more.

The two of you just stayed in that position until you couldn’t hear whispers from downstairs anymore. 

You perked your head up, “Do you hear that?” 

“What?” 

“Exactly,” you shot out of bed as quickly, but quietly as possible. She let out a soft giggle before following suit. 

The hard wood floor cold against your bare feet. You looked from the top step to see the kids finally fast asleep on the floor. JJ opened the closet door and grabbed all of their presents, lying them neatly along the tree.

You took the cookies that they made and took small bites out of it before drinking some of the milk. You went over to JJ with a cookie in your hand, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. 

“Cookie?” you whispered and she nodded gratefully before taking a bite out of it. 

The two of you just swayed from side to side as you embraced the colorful lights of the Christmas tree filling the dark room and your two kids sleeping peacefully on the floor with one another. 

You grabbed your phone from your pocket, shooting a text to Emily who was probably fast asleep. You and JJ got close to the two kids before taking a selfie with them, sending the picture to Emily saying:

They did it again...stayed up much later this time. I’m starting to feel bad for Mom and Dad now!

You grabbed the blanket that was on the couch and laid it over the two kids, as JJ wrote note in cursive thanking them for all the cookies. You placed a kiss to each of their heads before following JJ to bed.

The two of you getting comfortable once more in bed, finally allowing yourselves to try and get some sleep, “Aren’t you glad you stayed awake?” she whispered.

You nodded, softly, thinking back to the time where you almost died, “I’m very glad I stayed awake,” you told her, the double meaning hidden along the sentence. 

But JJ knew, she always knew.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 4 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Nothing can stop the wrath of the God of Mischief, when he realizes he had been deceived by the people he trusted more than his beloved wife.

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Words: ~1700

"But what the world fails to realize is a villain is just a victim whose story hasn’t been told.” - Chris Colfer

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800 @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog @vengefulsokovian @lunamoonbby @freyagallileaevans​

A/N: This is a rather boring chapter, but we’re far from done!

“She already left several moons ago. It was her own wish, we did not force her.”

“Where to?” 

“Midgard.”

Loki was long back on Asgardian territory, yet his mind couldn’t find peace. Well, how could he, now knowing what Laufey told him?

His world had already crumbled to dust when he left you behind - but if Laufey spoke the truth, his whole existence had been built on lies from the very start.

Not knowing where to search for answers, the prince sneaked into Odin’s forbidden chambers, walking in the shadows protecting him in the midst of night.

There it was: The Cascet of Ancient Winters - the very relic that doomed the fate of your newborn, revealing it’s shameful blood to all of Asgard.

It just urged him to try and see for himself, even if the truth would shatter his heart.

“STOP!”

Loki wouldn’t even flinch at the Allfather’s words, already tightly holding the cascet in both hands.

“Am I cursed?”

The God of Mischief wouldn’t even dare to turn around and look at the person he always ever thought to be his father - for as soon as he laid fingers on the cascet, he began turning into that same shade of blue your son did.

Panic began to rise in the young god, fearing to be killed by the people he loved so dearly shall they lay eyes upon what he truly was. His chest began to tighten, fastened breath turning into a cold mist.

“No” was Odin’s firm but unsatisfying answer, to which Loki only responded by putting down the cascet.

“What am I?”

“You’re my son.” His words came from the heart, not even faltering as Loki turned around to present his Jotun form to the Allfather.

“What more than that?!” he almost growled in between gritted teeth, appearance slowly returning to his usual self.

At that deepest, darkest day in his life yet, Loki would be too blinded by betrayal and rage to see his father’s true love towards his adoptive son.

“The cascet wasn’t the only thing you took back from Jotunheim that day, was it?” The prince took firm steps towards the man that he had known all his life, but had become a complete stranger towards him through that sole moment.

Again, only a “no.”

Loki’s mind was racing, thinking about what else may have been hidden from himself - and what kind of consequences that revelation had for everything he had done up until now.

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went to the temple -- and I found a baby” the Allfather continued, “Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die...”

“...Laufeyson” Loki completed Odin’s sentence. So every word the King of the Jotunns had said was indeed a fact.

“W-W-why?!” he almost whined, voice weak and defeated. “You were knee deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child-”

“No.” The God of Lies himself had become so sick of being fed those, starting to snap. “You took me for a purpose. What was it???” 

For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence.

The image of that small, blue child in his arms had been painfully burned into his heart back then. But now that he knew the story behind all of this, it held a completely different meaning.

Just like he had been abandoned back on that frozen rock, he had abandoned his own child, as well as the love of his life.

Outcast, abused, left to die...and now, god knows what had happened to you...

That secret had destroyed more than just his own life. It had ruined the only honest happiness he was ever given - you, and his son.

“TELL ME!”

He just needed to know: The reason behind all the pain and suffering he had to endure - and caused to others as well.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace...through you.”

That was just too much for Loki to bear. “What?” he reacted with a barely-there voice, every word of his father shooting daggers through his heart.

“But those plans no longer matter.” No matter what Odin might want to explain, Loki wasn’t able to listen to any more, jumping into his own conclusions.

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up inside of here until you might have use for me?!” he croaked, afraid of the answer.

“Do not twist my words.”

“You could told me what I was from the beginning!” he now yelled, furious at how virtuous Odin would still defend his own action. “Why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son” he repeated once again. “I only wanted to protect you from the truth.”

“Why, ‘cause I-I-I-I’m the monster people tell their children about at night?!” Loki clenched his fists, fingernails drawing blood to his palm.

“At least when my son was born, you should’ve dropped the charade!” Pure agony was dripping from every syllable, and for a mere second, his eyes were glistering bright red once again. “You’ve forsaken two innocent lives - the most important beings in my pathetic existence - and now you’ve burdened me with their suffering as well!”

That sure was a miracle - how a person so broken from the beginning wouldn’t collapse under pressure that huge.

“It all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor, all those years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

But who cares about the throne, honestly? Not him. Not anymore. Ever since he knew you.

It all dawned to him now: What he could have, if only he had put his trust in you like so many times before.

All his life, he only ever remembers a shadow. At first, he thought it to be the shadow of his brother, or never being enough for his own father. Maybe the other Asgardians looking down on him, making him feel like he doesn’t belong.

Yet in the end, that very shadow was inside of his own mind.

But you?

You had loved Loki with all of your heart, banishing the darkness from his mind through your bright affection.

It didn’t matter to you what anyone thought of him - or even what he thought himself to be.

Because you saw him for what he really was, and he found peace with that.

And he was certain that it wouldn’t matter to you whether he called himself Odinson or Laufeyson - as had you loved his child dearly, ever since he took his first breath.

He could never make up for that greatest of his sins, Loki knew that much.

Or...?

“Where are you going, my son?”

Reluctantly, Loki made his way past the man he now only considered a stranger. Still, when Odin tried to reach out to him, Loki immediately ducked away, startled and afraid for his true nature to hurt anyone.

More than ever before, the God of Mischief despised himself to the core of his being. He was lost, confused, shocked - and still, determined.

“Creating a Kingdom for my family.”

___

[Earth, 2 months later]

On times like these, you thought your mind was betraying you.

Especially when you catched yourself reminiscing sweet, innocent moments - far back in the past, before everything you ever held dearly got destroyed.

You still felt his touch, feather-light on your skin, as well as his scent haunting your memories. And sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder how life would have been, well...if things were different.

Frantically shaking your head, you clasped the book closed and threw it into a corner of the small one-room-flat SHIELD had provided for you.

Your magical pockets were always almost empty, except for a few necessities - and that book. It held the first flower Loki ever gifted you, and you had dried it in between those pages so it would never lose it’s beauty.

But now, remembering meant pain - because Loki Laufeyson would never come back.

For he is dead.

Fell of the Bifrost, as confirmed by Heimdall, who secretly kept in touch with you all this time. So you knew it all: Of his grief and treason, which slowly led him into madness. 

And what did you do in the meantime?! Nothing at all!

You should’ve tried everything, anything to get back and help him go through that time of need, hel!

“Endure it, Y/N...you need to stay strong...for Liam.” After so many times of telling those words to yourself, you doubted them to have any effect on your broken heart at all.

Yet it would never fail to keep you going. For that wonderful child was proof of your love, and now your last memory of him.

Rocking the small Jotun to sleep, tears found their way to your eyes like so many times before, dropping to the baby’s face unnoticed.

So you tried to sing your pain away as you cooed that little wonder to sleep.

“Å eg lengtar så tidt dette landet å sjå, Og det dreg meg så blidt, når eg langt er ifrå. Med den våknande vår vert min saknad so sår, så mest gråta, mest gråta eg kan. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land.”

*Translation:

“Oh I long so long to see this land, And it pulls me so gently, when I'm far away. With the waking spring host my missing so sore, so most cry, most cry eg can. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

Valiant

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x female reader

Genre: sad fluff / comfort

Warnings: nightmares, family health concerns, struggling with what life is throwing at the reader

A/N: I wrote this a couple of days after my Mum was hospitalised in a way to comfort myself. I always reach out for Kyungsoo for stories like these and I hope those who also adore my comfort au stories with him will appreciate this.

Word count: 1612

Cold dread, along with copious sweat drenched you as your body snapped upright. Your heart was pounding thunderously in your chest, your dilated focus searching the dark room for the cause of the fear that crippled you.

Nothing moved. Your personal belongings slowly came into focus, and you willed your heart to slow down until it was quietly thumping against your ribcage.

You were safe.

And yet, this didn’t ease you any. In your search around the room, you had realised you were completely alone. The one thing that scared you more than your nightmares was that.

Picking yourself out of the twisted bedding, you padded out into the living area of the house, your body slumping against the wall when you caught sight of him.

As if he sensed your approach, Kyungsoo glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes washing over you. Closing the refrigerator that he had been grabbing a drink from, he wordlessly approached you, pulling you off the wall that you braced against and into his arms.

He was warm. So, so deliciously warm, and you were burning from the contrast where his skin touched your frozen body. He was shirtless, and you struggled to anchor yourself to him, not wanting to pierce his bare skin with how desperate you were to hold him.

For the short minutes you had been alone, you had suffered.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair before kissing you on the crown, his embrace strong, protective against your trembling attempts. “I didn’t realise you would wake up before I came back.”

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled into the nook of his shoulder and neck, willing the tears to stop falling. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was getting you some water. I wanted to wake you,” he admitted, his hand now running up and down your spine, hoping the comfort would cease your falling emotions.

He knew you too well, and your breathing soon evened out as you sniffled back the remnants of your tears.

Pulling your head up, you looked up at the man who held you. Who held your world right now. With everything, he had remained the only constant. At your side, in your mind. Kyungsoo was all that felt solid to you, even when he wasn’t holding you to him. As you crumbled, as everything you knew started to lose its ground, he held you up. He made sure you kept going.

“Was it bad?” he asked after a few moments of stretched silence, and you noticed how weary he was too. You were relying on him too much, though he wouldn’t allow you to feel bad for him right now.

He had told you countless times that there was nowhere else he’d be.

“I don’t know.” Staring unfocused over his shoulder, you grappled at the events of your nightmare, trying to figure how far it had travelled this time. What had felt so incredibly real was now fuzzy with reality settling in.

You had been having the same dream for days now. It strangely didn’t relate to the events happening in your life, to your mother. Thankfully. You could barely keep yourself together during the awake hours with her rapidly declining health and your inability to slow it down despite all efforts. But you could hazard a guess that the crumbling buildings, the apocalyptic world in your dream state, the desperation in the tone of the man calling out that he needed you all meant something.

You had lost control, and fear had seeped well into your bones for the unknown.

Kyungsoo didn’t ask you anything further, having endured enough from outside of your dreams. Your fits woke him every night. Your broken cries and his inability to stop them until he pulled you out of the nightmares haunting him just as much.

You wondered when it would become too much.

Guiding you over to the couch, Kyungsoo stepped back into the kitchen and retrieved some water for you. You sipped at it disinterestedly, feeling the exhaustion tugging at your heavy limbs. You were still cold, the clothing you wore damp from perspiration. Perhaps sleeping naked would eradicate that issue once the sweat dried upon your skin. Yet you didn’t move, rather couldn’t. The uncomfortable dampness wouldn’t be enough of a catalyst to get you back up for hours now.

Sighing, Kyungsoo sat down beside you, and you lowered your head into his lap after placing your cup down on the coffee table. Here, you relaxed into him, a lazy smile pulling up your lips when he placed the throw blanket over your chilled body.

It was as if he could read your every need without asking for his assistance.

With your head grounded against his pyjama-clad thighs, you allowed all thoughts to clear out of your mind.

You didn’t consider the nightmare’s message.

You pushed away your constant worry for the woman who had raised you lying in a hospital bed.

Even the unimportant complaints that niggled your brain didn’t hold any weight right now.

Your cheek pressed further into his thigh, and Kyungsoo’s hand ran idly through your hair. You had wondered when you were younger why everyone around you was so determined to find someone to be with. This desire to find your match in a world of faces was almost a societal expectation, even with how much the world had progressed away from traditional requirements for human life. You hadn’t been as interested as your friends in finding a partner to settle down with and pop a few kids out with.

You had always assumed yourself to be too independent, having been given the reins of your family when your parents separated as a teen. Over the years, you had become responsible for things far greater than what should have been shouldered to you, and yet you carried on, being the only way you had known life to be. You had never expected a man would walk into your world with its unconventional setup, let alone step in and help you carry those burdens.

Kyungsoo didn’t complete you in some romanticised way. What he offered you was equal footing. Companionship. A person you could be however you needed to be, without judgement.

And you gave him all of that back too.

It was why he was who you sought out as soon as the dream had startled you awake, your heart not settling until you found him. It was why his embrace had brought you down from the trembling, erratic nature your body was functioning within and deadened your limbs to the point of now lying upon him. It was his quiet yet commanding presence in your world that quietened down the never-ending dialogue within your mind.

“Sleep,” he encouraged softly, and you closed your eyes, feeling a lull wash over you with the simple word.

“What about you?” you mumbled, knowing that it wouldn’t be right to fall asleep here on the couch even if you couldn’t fathom picking yourself up and making your way back down to the bedroom. He would get a sore neck for sleeping in that position.

“Are you suggesting I carry you back to the bedroom, princess?”

You giggled, imagining the way his heart-shaped lips would be tipped up with equal amusement.

How peculiar humans were. One minute consumed by fear, and the next, you were laughing. It made sense how over time societies could crumble and then rebuild.

Human nature was resilient.

“I didn’t take you for a prince,” you told him as his hands travelled to your waist, hoisting you back upright. You didn’t resist his actions, though you didn’t help him either, smiling at the huff he expelled when tugging you into his strong grip.

“Perhaps I’m more of a knight,” he grunted, using his knees to brace the process of lifting you up and standing at the same time.

“Well, you have saved me countless times over,” you agreed, slinging your arms around his neck, watching your home go by as he transported you back to the bedroom, placing you down on the bed.

Kyungsoo stared down at you, his lips twitching with restraint. You knew he wanted you both to fall asleep again. Dawn had yet to arrive, and there were sleeping hours left before you could become alert again to the pressing needs, the constant worry plaguing you and your family. You both wanted to avoid that returning as much as possible right now. And yet, you could see the way his eyes burned with the playful conversation, enjoying the reprieve from the darkness.

“With me at your side now, I’ll slay all the dragons that try to come for you,” he vowed, climbing into the bed and offering out his arm.

You scooted towards his invitation, resting your head over his chest. “And for your efforts, I’ll reward you with my heart.”

“I thought princesses married princes.”

“I’d much prefer someone with a valiant attempt for my attention than anyone else.” Kissing his chest, you smiled as you nestled into him further. “I’d give up being a princess for you.”

“Sleep,” he urged again, voice thick. You felt his heart under your ear skip the even beat that had resided there and closed your eyes, relishing in his warmth, his love.

As you were pulled towards a soundless sleep this time, you hoped that one day soon, you would wake to know that the struggles of this time were as fuzzy as your nightmare had become.

You hoped for a time where your valiant knight didn’t have to slay any dragons, and you could live in peace once more.

_________________

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt for "Close" or "Reforged": NMJ & Baxia goes to the Nie tombs to accompany someone. The spirits sensed a saberspeak translator FINALLY exists and traps them. Everyone thought the place hostile, but the sabers just want NMJ listen to their ramblings/demands/complaints/lectures... and also to do something about that "basketcase" saber spirit sealed further in. They're sick of listening to it! Do something, Nie descendant!

ao3

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lan Xichen said one day when he was a teenager, lying on his back in a field in the Cloud Recesses with his best friend in the whole world, excluding family. “Something secret.”

Nie Mingjue, lying beside him, hummed for a moment, thinking about it. “When I was a kid – about Wangji’s age now – I got stabbed in the stomach during a fight,” he said eventually. “Everyone thought I was going to die, and I mean they really thought it, but then I didn’t.”

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, having meant something more along the lines of ‘a girl let me touch her chest behind the garden shed once’. “Everyone must have been very glad you were all right.”

“Mostly,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice and gaze distant. “Once they let me out.”

“Of your sickbed?”

Nie Mingjue blinked and shook his head as if to wake up. “Enough about me,” he said. “What about you? What’s your secret? Is it about that He sect girl and the shed again?”

“It was not,” Lan Xichen insisted, even though it totally had been. He was very proud of it. “I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular!”

-

When Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen about his family’s curse, he didn’t actually tell him directly.

He brought him to a room, with tea and food set out, had him sit, and then vanished, sending Nie Zonghui to tell him instead. It was horrifying, of course, but in the same manner as the whole war they’d just endured had been horrifying – nothing that would make Nie Mingjue blush.

“Why didn’t he just tell me himself?” Lan Xichen asked, mostly because he couldn’t really be upset at Nie Mingjue for being in the process of slowly dying, even if that’s what he really wanted. “Did he think I wouldn’t be able to stand it or something?”

“Or something,” Nie Zonghui said. “It’s not about you, Zewu-jun. It’s about him.”

Lan Xichen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a sensitive subject for him,” Nie Zonghui said. “Especially the saber tombs – and after what happened when he was younger, I can’t really blame him.”

“When he was younger? What happened?”

“Did he never say? He said that he’d already told you: when he was young – eight or nine, I think – he was in a fight, and got stabbed…”

“Oh, yes, that,” Lan Xichen said. “I know about that…what does that have to do with cultivation?”

“It was his first fight carrying Baxia,” Nie Zonghui explained. “She wasn’t even fully forged, but he grabbed her out of the smithy and wielded her against those invaders.”

Nie Mingjue had not said anything about invaders.

“He saved the lives of several other children,” Nie Zonghui continued, and Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything about that, either. “Shed his first blood on his blade – even took his first life, all the things that function as a marker of adulthood. Defeat evil, rescue the innocent, all that. So when they thought he was going to die, they decided to give him the honors of an adult.”

For some reason, that made something sink in Lan Xichen’s stomach.

“When you say honors…” he started.

“He was taken to the saber tombs,” Nie Zonghui said. “To die as his honored ancestors had.”

They must have been very sure that he would not live.

“But he didn’t die,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Zonghui hesitated. “What are you not telling me?”

“Sect Leader Nie was left there to die alone, as is customary,” Nie Zonghui said. “When they returned after three days to collect his body for cremation, they found him still breathing, much to everyone’s surprise…after, there were rumors that he had died.”

“What? How? He’s walking around even now.”

“They thought he had been possessed,” Nie Zonghui explained. “By one of the saber spirits. It caused some trouble, later. Anyway, ever since then, he doesn’t talk about it directly – and nor should you.”

“But –”

“I think that’s enough of an explanation for now,” Nie Zonghui said firmly, and no matter how Lan Xichen entreated him, he said no more.

-

“Oh, sure, we have plenty of stories about saber spirit possession,” Nie Huaisang said when Lan Xichen asked in a roundabout fashion. “All sorts! I grew up on them, naturally. Temporary, permanent, through birth or misadventure – that one story about the generation of Nie women where everyone was female, whether born or misaligned –”

That did sound somewhat interesting, actually, but not exactly what Lan Xichen was looking for at the moment.

“What happens in cases of possession?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “You know, if someone thinks someone else is possessed – speaking generally, of course?”

“Generally?” Nie Huaisang frowned and tapped his fan against his lips. “I mean, in the case of temporary possession, you usually try to exorcise the spirit – usually through traditional means, like arrays or talismans or incantations, but sometimes if you think they’re trying to steal a human life permanently, through discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“Oh, you know. Excess exercise, denying food, hurting them. Show them that they’d rather not be human after all, that sort of thing.”

“…what if they’re wrong about the possession?” Lan Xichen asked, a cold chill going down his spine.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “It’s supposed to be pretty obvious? Someone who has the strength of a guai instead of a human, who refuses to die when a normal person would, someone rigid and unyielding with barely any flexibility – more metal than human – unusually angry, full of bloodlust and an unquenchable desire to destroy evil –”

“That could describe your whole family tree, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said. That could describe your brother.

“Sabers reflect their masters,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. “So it makes sense that it would, doesn’t it?”

“But –”

“Oh, don’t fuss, er-ge! I’m sure the elders wouldn’t just go around assuming someone’s secretly a saber for no reason,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now, let me tell you about the generation of women story – it’s one of my favorites –”

-

“Da-ge refused to let me play for him again,” Jin Guangyao commented, and Lan Xichen frowned.

He wasn’t an idiot – he knew how bad the relationship between his two sworn brothers was – but although he’d hoped that this would help repair some aspects of that, his primary goal with the Song of Clarity was to improve Nie Mingjue’s health.

(Sabers could suffer from qi deviations, too. Not that Nie Mingjue was possessed by a saber or anything.)

“Did he say why?” Lan Xichen asked.

“He was busy this week,” Jin Guangyao said mournfully. “Visiting his family tombs, apparently.”

Lan Xichen blinked. “The – Nie family tombs?”

Jin Guangyao had been speaking casually, clearly thinking of it as some excuse meant to fob him off, but perhaps there was something about Lan Xichen’s face that caught his interest. “Yes, he said there was some issue there that he had to deal with personally. Is there something the matter with that?”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, and then frowned. “At least, I don’t think so? I’ll speak with him about not skipping more sessions, A-Yao; don’t worry.”

He excused himself shortly thereafter and went to Qinghe on the first possible excuse.

“Where’s your sect leader?” he asked one of the guards.

Their frozen expression said everything he needed to know.

-

“Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, blinking at him. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Wangji,” Lan Xichen said. “Of course it’s me!”

“I meant that more in the ‘what are you doing in my family tombs’ sense,” Nie Mingjue said.

Lan Xichen allowed that that was a fair question. A better one, however…

“What are you doing in your family’s tombs?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Song of Clarity isn’t working, we can try something else!”

“Xichen –”

“It is far, far too early for you to even think of coming down here –”

“Xichen –”

“And may I say, that’s a barbaric tradition anyway, I don’t care if your ancestors did it, locking up a child is just –”

“Xichen.”

Lan Xichen stopped.

Nie Mingjue was rubbing the back of his head, and his cheeks were red. “I heard a rumor that one of the old masterless sabers got loose,” he said. “I was just checking it out. I wasn’t coming here to – to reside.”

“…oh,” Lan Xichen said, and felt rather stupid. And then, trying to change the subject, he said, “How’d you hear about the saber getting loose? I thought no one came here unless there was a death.”

“Oh, the sabers told me,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Oh, I guess…wait. What?”

-

“So you…hear them,” Lan Xichen said. They were seated on the foot of one of the statues guarding the tombs, which was a bit rude but Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to mind and they were, after all, his ancestors. “The saber spirits.”

“Since I was child, yes,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“And you don’t think this is – odd?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “They gave me spiritual energy so that I could survive. It left a mark, I think.”

Lan Xichen nodded.

He tried to figure out how to phrase his next question.

“I’m fairly certain I am not a saber spirit possessing a human corpse.”

“Oh, good,” Lan Xichen sighed. “I had no idea how to ask.”

Nie Mingjue knocked their shoulders together. “You can always just ask. I’m your friend. Corpse or not.”

“Please don’t make jokes about that,” Lan Xichen said mournfully, even if it was a little funny. “I’d miss you if you were a corpse.”

“Well, depending on the state of the corpse…”

Lan Xichen snickered, even though he really didn’t mean to. It wasn’t actually funny.

-

“So is it just sabers?”

“Not always. Why? You want to know what Shuoyue thinks of you?”

Lan Xichen stared at him. “Can you?”

“Either directly or indirectly,” Nie Mingjue said. “Even if the weapon doesn’t want to talk to me directly, they usually don’t have a choice when Baxia is pushing them.”

“…do swords have a lot to say?”

“Not as much as saber spirits. But more than you might think.”

“What does she think of me, then?”

“She likes you. You’re good to her. Except when you wield her overhead because you keep tensing a muscle in your back that makes the strike a little wonky, so she’d prefer you stick with forward thrusts or low cuts until you get that fixed.”

Lan Xichen started laughing.

-

“If I die outside, make sure I’m brought here,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think I’d enjoy the company.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Lan Xichen promised, and he meant it, too. “I promise.”

[pigeonp0st]

Hi :,) love your fics so so much and I have so many requests so you’ll be hearin from me a bit as long as your requests are open lol! Hope that’s ok❤️ I was wondering if you could write a Nat x reader fic where reader was kidnapped by hydra and tortured and the team finds her and bring her back to the tower but she’s different now she has powers and is extremely mentally scarred?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #7

Words: 2,565

Warnings: Depression, trauma

Notes:

Thank you! I don’t mind at all, thank you for requesting and wanting to in the first place. I think this is my longest fic? Or at least one of...I did it fairly quickly though so sorry for any spelling mistakes and grammar errors.

———

Natasha is scared.

She is more scared than she has possibly ever been, and she’s reckless, and she’s determined, and she’s stupid.

But she finds you. She saves you, and everything else she’s come to regret about the ways she did it, and the way she handled it, doesn’t matter.

She pushes open about the fifteenth door she’s looked through and she sees you, trapped and bloody but alive, tied to a chair, and she’s so full of relief and happiness she doesn’t notice the new haunted look in your eyes.

She rushes towards you, feet pounding on concrete and uncaring of how loud she’s being, and feels tears rush to her eyes.

You’re okay. She saved you.

——-

Natasha is the last person to realize you’re not okay, but perhaps she’s the first to realize the depths of that truth.

She watches you, for the hundredth time since you returned two days ago, and the first ‘wrong’ thing she notices is the way your hand shakes around the spoon you’re eating with.

Then, a couple of hours later she realizes that you’ve hardly spoken.

She hates herself for not noticing sooner, but she has now so she tries to say something, not just about this but about all of the pieces of the broken image Natasha hadn’t allowed herself to see in the relief that she had felt after she had found you.

You’ve always been open and honest with her and she hadn’t thought there’d be a reason for that to change now, but when she asks and reaches out for you you jerk away so fast you almost fall off the bed.

“Don’t touch me, Natasha.”

You growl it out so venomously Natasha is momentary struck frozen. She wonders in the second before you speak again if she has done something wrong.

Then, you release a shaky sad breath and lower your head. “I’m...i’m sorry.”

Natasha says nothing, and so you leave.

—-

“Y/N...she’s not here.”

The mug of coffee Natasha’s holding drops from her hand and shatters violently on the ground. The room is deathly silent, with nothing but the beep from the finished microwave to fill the quiet, and Natasha see’s nothing but you tied and bloodied in the hydra base and hears nothing but the quiet and broken way you had told her you were a “monster now.”

And then she feels nothing but sorrow because this is her fault. She made you pull away, Natasha made you need space from the compound (she asked too many questions again earlier), but she also can’t let you have it.

She is scared again, and she hates how it’s becoming a regular feeling. She’s afraid you're going to get hurt again, so she can’t let you go. Not without her. Not yet.

“I’ll find her,” Natasha grits out, abandoning the glass on the floor and rushing to grab her keys from the kitchen cabinet. “If I don’t in an hour or two i’ll call so you guys can—” Natasha pauses, feeling stupid, “did you...did you call...or text?”

Wanda nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed together. “She answered.”

Everyone waits for Wanda to repeat what you had told her but she doesn’t. Not for a long enough moment that Natasha just considers leaving anyways.

It’s dark out, and it’s thundering, and you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving, so she’s worried. Natasha is worried.

“She said that she needed to escape for a couple of hours, to not come after her, to tell Natasha that she was still breathing.”

A pause. Natasha sets her keys back down.

“She said she was lost, and that she was tired.”

“Lost?” Natasha repeats, her heart stopping for a moment and then leaping into her throat.

“Mentally,” Wanda clarifies, huffing out a sigh.

But you said that you don’t want her to come looking for you, so with all of the will power Natasha can summon she stays, and she waits for you to come home.

——-

Lost, you had told Wanda, but can you be lost when you don’t even remember what you’re searching for anymore. When you don’t remember what it was like to feel ‘home.’

The rain pounds hard on your back, it soaks you wet and makes your clothes stick to your skin the way it did when they were soaked with blood, and it drowns out every noise that isn’t the beat of your heart and the downpour of rain

Hydra had experimented on you and tortured you, and you came out with nothing left of the old you and flames on your hand.

They gave you the power to control fire, to summon fire, to be resistant to it.

That’s what they gave but they took too much more.

The fire you’re supposed to master feels like it’s in you, like it’s burning you away bit by bit and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake, and you’re trying. You tried so hard. You tried to put it out, to stop the change, to reverse it, but you can’t. You can’t so you continue to burn and okay—that was manageable—but it wasn’t supposed to burn Natasha.

It wasn’t supposed to burn your friends.

They look at you now and they see it, Natasha is starting to see it, and you know, you know, you know, they can never love this new you. They will only ache for the loss of the past you—and you never meant to hurt them with change.

There is nothing you can do. All feels lost and hopeless, and you're helpless, so you sit in the rain and shiver with the cold seeping into your skin, and for the first time since you were kidnapped your heart and mind releases itself from the burden of its suffering.

For a moment, looking up at the sky, you’re the old you.

At peace.

——-

You walk into the living room, soaked and dripping water everywhere, and you see Natasha curled up on the couch sleeping.

It stops you in your tracks and has you looking around to check if anyone is there and then moving to crouch by her side to study her.

Even though it feels like every bit of you has changed the love you have for Natasha and the others is still the same. You hadn’t taken time to realize it but it’s such a great relief that you almost release a sob before you manage to bite it down.

The love you have for them is the same, they’re the same, the compound is the same.

As you think about the compound you glance around to see if it truly is the way it was and then you spot a shattered glass mug left on the floor.

It’s Nat’s favorite mug, you realize with a bit of sadness on her behalf.

It isn’t broken too terribly…it’s still recognizable, perhaps it can be pieced back together…

Like you. Maybe. If you still love the way you had, if you still have the memories that you had, maybe it’s enough to make your pieces recognizable enough to be pieced back together.

Or maybe it’s storming outside, and you're soaked to the bone feeling too poetic.

Thunder strikes outside and you jump so violently from both the sound and the images that flash through your head that you almost wake up Natasha.

God, you’re still so pathetic.

With an agonized sigh you push yourself up right again and try to remember where the Avengers keep the super glue.

——

Natasha wakes up slowly then abruptly when she remembers that you’re missing. Fuck, had you not come home last night, Nat wonders, are you hurt, did something happen—

“Y/N fixed your mug,” Clinton says from besides her on the couch, gesturing to the mug on the coffee table. Natasha settles back down. “She said that it probably can’t hold liquid in it anymore, but that if you want to test it and it breaks she’ll fix it again.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks, ignoring the surge of warmth in her chest in favor of her worry. “Did she look okay?”

“In her room,” he answers, then winces, “or yours.”

“How is she?” Natasha repeats.

Clint thinks about it for a moment. “Physically? I think she’s coming down with a fever. Apparently she was out there in the rain for hours,” He sighs, running a hand through his short hair, “emotionally—”

But Natasha doesn’t let him finish before she’s jumping off the couch and rushing towards your room. You don’t go to hers anymore so when she doesn’t find you in yours she worries that you’ve run again...this time she really can’t let you go. Not while you’re sick.

She can’t—

There’s a note on your bed.

“Stop worrying. I’m in your bed...it’s more comfortable than mine.”

She wishes she could hate how much you know her.

———

When Natasha enters her room it’s to the sound of your raspy coughs and then an out of breath; “i’ve been expecting you.”

Natasha laughs unexpectedly and shakes her head at your ridiculousness. “You’re lighter than usual, despite circumstances,” she says quietly after her laughter dies down.

“Usual,” you repeat, the light in your eyes darkening in an instant. “Usual meaning the past week? Is my...is this me your new normal?”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, and it seems to make you frustrated.

“You should expect more,” you tell her bitterly, “you should ask for more. You deserve more.”

Natasha steps forward and you physically jolt back. She stops. “You got tortured. What did they do to you?”

You shake your head, once, twice, “stop talking Nat. Stop.”

“You asked me to ask for more. You said I should.”

“I meant other things!” You shout angrily, fire in your eyes. Literally. “I meant you should expect more care, you deserve more than me avoiding you, you—”

“I just want to understand,” Natasha whispers, her shoulders dropping. “I don’t care about anything else, I don’t care if you need to avoid me to deal with things by yourself, but I feel like...like I'm lost too. Like I don’t understand the person I've always understood.”

“Natasha, I'm not ready for you to know me,” you whisper, the weight of her words and your sorrow wrapped around your throat and squeezing out secrets you’d rather keep in.

“You’re not a different person.”

“Yes I am.”

“Hold out your hand.”

You blink at her in shock and confusion but do as you're told. Natasha moves towards you, strides towards you, and you try not to wince, you try not to let the sound of her footsteps bring you to places you’d rather not be.

Her hand reaches for you, you close your eyes—expecting pain because it’s all you ever knew in your haunting week with Hydra—and when you open them again it’s because Natasha has interlaced your fingers.

Her hand...her hand looks the same against yours. It feels the same. She’s touched you since you’ve been back but you were too busy trying not to move away to remember that this used to be the only thing you wanted back when she was just a crush. To hold her hand...then when she became your girlfriend it was a comfort that you thought you’d always seek.

“Is your favorite color still the same?” Natasha asks, voice strong and almost as intense as her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Is your favorite song the same, is your favorite movie the same, is your—”

“All of those things don’t make me who I am,” you stutter, unable to hold her eyes. Where Natasha is strong you are weak. Her strength is the sun, and yours is just a dying light bulb.

“They’re small but they matter,” Natasha insists, looking at you so softly you wonder what she sees.

“Are you still trying?” She asks quietly, “do you still care too much?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in pain,” Natasha notes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and despising the world for the things it’s done to you when you wince. “You’re scared, traumatized, you leave the room when people are being too loud, you constantly look around, you don’t like people being too close,” she stops, tilting her head. “Care to add?”

“I’m...tired. I don’t even want to get up in the morning for fear of what I'll face through the day—just while doing mundane things. I'm so weak it makes me furious.”

Natasha nods, closing her eyes, “you need to run sometimes, you try so hard to look okay around the others sometimes your jaw physically shakes with the effort, you’re hesitant in everything you do now—”

“Okay.” You cut her off, words shaky. “I get it.”

“I love you. Not loved. I love you. I loved you two weeks ago, before all of this, and I love you in this second just the same,” she cups your cheek and you don’t wince. “I hurt for you. I want to know what you’ve been through, I want you to open up to me, but you’re still Y/N, aren’t you? You’re still the woman I fell in love with.”

“Why are you so sure of that?” You ask, eyes watering.

“You fixed my mug,” Natasha says, breathing out a short huff of laughter. “Thank you.”

“You loved it, Nat.”

“You hated it.”

And okay. “I need time,” you whisper, “time to process and then slowly maybe I can…maybe I can heal.”

With all of the certainty in the world Natasha says; “you will”, and you believe her. “And if you need time then you have it.” She moves to step back, to drop her hand, but you don’t let her.

You grasp her hand where it is on your cheek and with your eyes you beg her to stay, and then you do with your voice too; “not from you. Just please don’t ask me questions about what happened yet. Can we just…” you sigh, glancing down. “Can we just exist together?”

Natasha looks at you, really looks at you, and she sees how vulnerable you are in this moment, how strong, She sees it in the way your hand shakes against her, in the way—

“Say something,” you beg, exasperated, “please.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says, chuckling at the glare you give her. “I just love you so much sometimes I need a moment,” and then, she says, easily like there is no other option, like she would want nothing else, “Of course i’ll stay.”

And the sorrow wrapped around your throat like a rope only getting tighter, and the trauma burning away at your insides like an imperishable flame, and the anxiety like boulders on your shoulder only keeping you down, it all goes away.

For a moment, you suspect, just like when you were outside in the rain, but the fact that you can feel this way here, with another person in the room this close to you, with nothing there to drown everything out, it gives you hope.

It’s the first time you’ve seen the light in the darkness, but you think that maybe it was always there.

“Thank you, Natasha. For everything.”

She smiles, softly and full of love. “Thank you for everything, too,” and what she’s really saying is; “thank you for giving me you.”

——

For Part 2 click here

(Takes place about a month later)

[austajunk]

🏠 with Ibuki and whoever else you please.

Fun times with traveling musician Ibuki and spooky ghost boy ??? (Hajime. It’s Hajime.)

There was no turning back. Definitely not in such a fierce rainstorm. As she slid her motorbike up the muddy road towards the black house looming in the distance, Ibuki’s felt the spray in her sharp hair start to wane down. She was utterly soaked from head to toe with her white shirt clinging desperately to her freezing skin.

This was just her darn luck!

She had finally landed a gig outside town and then the weather had taken a turn for the worst. Muddy roads had her veering off into a particularly nasty tree that scraped up her stockings and legs.

Sputtering, Ibuki could no longer keep her motorbike up and so she let the hunk of junk slip back into the rainy sludge. “Ugh! Mega crap!” She jammed her boot into the ground, ignoring the dirt kicking back up at her legs. But without the extra drag of her ride, she made up to the strange house.

“Helloooooo?” Ibuki peeked into the smudged up windows. Nothing stirred before her gaze so she rapped her fist loudly against the wooden door.

The feeble door suffered under her impatient fist with each knock, but Ibuki couldn’t hear anything shuffling inside that signaled someone was coming to her aid. She peered through the window again and sighed. Then she shrugged and smiled. If no one was living in this dump…

With a forceful kick from her black boots the wooden door shot open from its hinges. Ibuki rushed inside before the swung back to its natural place and frantically ran her hands down her hair to squeeze out the water.

“Brrrr… still freezing, but it’s better than nothing!” With a triumphant grin at her dusty surroundings, she pulled her guitar free from its strap and settled on a sheet covered couch. This was totally the traveling musician life, she convinced herself. She had no idea where she was in the world and was crashing at some random spooky pad on the road. Was there anything else so totally legit? With her wild hair resting behind the couch, she lifted her guitar and started to strum a few strings to ignore her own teeth chattering.

—

It had been an hour since Ibuki had broken into the large house and she hadn’t found the enthusiasm to get up and explore her. Her fingers ran across her guitar, locked into the power ballad that was swimming around in her head. Everything but her hands were frozen. Why did it have to be so cold?

“G-G-Geez!” She stammered, her cheeks going pale. “I c-can’t take it anymore! If Ibuki doesn’t get a little bit of heat, I’m gonna have to burn up this guitar!” If this were a song, it would be called ‘Frozen to Death: A Dangerous Diet Trend From the Pits of Hell’!

First thing was first. Even if it sucked, she had to get dry somehow. Ibuki’s fingers surfaced beneath her white top and slid it up over her bra. Maybe she could find some towels somewhere to bundle up in.

Just as she was about to slip off towards the stairs at the end of the hall, something warm brushed up her back. “Hmmm…”

Ibuki shut her eyes, savoring the strange heat. Where had it come from? It wasn’t a gust of heated air. There was no electricity in this dirty house, so it couldn’t have been filtered through a vent. Instead, it felt more akin to the sensation when she was playing against one of her fellow band members.

Like someone’s touch.

Ibuki’s eyes shot open. The heat was still there, pressing to her back. Stunned, she felt it wander down her back to her rear. Her skirt lifted and the warm fingertips swept up her inner thighs.

A hot shudder left Ibuki’s throat. “Am I… dreaming?” Every touch sent her spine tingling. It made her want to jump simply by reflex but that heat… that comforting warmth kept her in place.

Then a foreign, additional warmth prodded past her skirt and between her legs. A dollop of stickiness slid down her thigh as its tip skirted up and down her white, cotton panties.

“Ah…hey-!” Ibuki squealed. But it was in vain. She didn’t want to freeze. Whoever was behind her knew that well enough. Their hands swarmed to her front, planting her back against a thick chest. She let her hands explore the stranger behind him, feeling up the muscular surface.

Then, by impulse, she whipped around.

There was no one there. The smallest wisps of smoke dissipated before Ibuki’s very eyes.

“Eeek!!! A ghost!!!” Ibuki shrieked. “This place is cursed!!!” She clasped her hands over her eyes and dramatically dropped to the fetal position on the floor.

That was a mistake. The presence shifted above her, settling invisible knees around waist. She could feel him on top of her. His nonexistent body and its heat blanketed her trembling frame. It felt like heaven…

Something tickled her neck. Strands of pointy hair. She couldn’t see them and yet, it was like Ibuki could visualize the stranger in her head.

His hot breath wandered down her chest. His thumbs rubbed circles into her thighs until the aches and chills slow disappeared.

Was this ghost… trying to preserve her?

“Ha! Ibuki Mioda! Friend and Master of all spirits everywhere!” Ibuki cried happily, making the spirit above her go completely still. After a moment of nothing, Ibuki indignantly snorted.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could stop! I’m freezing here!”