#its always darkest before the soul. every soul has its dark

[dirt-str1der]

Fuckk mu fav part of the series was when kiryu said we are the yakuza 4

[canyegetyeflask]

Ye can get ye flask in Dark Souls (FromSoftware, 2011)

[goldstarknight]

Eastward Style OCs and John Darksoul (2023)

Some characters in the style of Eastward. The three on the left are my original designs and the other one is John Darksoul or just "Dark Soul", protagonist of the hit franchise Dark Souls (known for his famous quote: "Every soul has its dark.").

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[mailperson]

[yandere-romanticaa]

A warm smile etched onto the pink haired foxian's face as he watched his beloved eat the meal he had prepared meticulously, his fingers still twitching lightly from the constant chopping and grinding of meat but his hard work had paid off in the end. Jiaoqiu was blessed to hear all the little noises that came out of your mouth, the satisfied hums and light little hiccups were like gospel to him, irreparable, satisfactory, necessary.

He reaches for his own utensils, still monitoring you carefully from the corner of his eye, never once letting the mask of a carefree gentleman slip off.

His beloved was the personification of every dark and sinful desire Jiaoqiu had ever had. The broken heart which he was still mending started to beat once more in the presence of his beloved, as if it finally found its long lost voice and sprung back to life.

The feeling, my, it was exhilarating. For ages now his one true desire was to cure anyone he ever could, to rid people of all of their pain and suffering, to hold their hand in their darkest hour of need and tell them in his sweet voice that all will be well and that he will heal them -

However, time was a cruel mistress. And Jiaoqiu, was all too familiar with its icy cruelty. It wasn't fair, just how much was he going to suffer? Even if he was not aware of it at times, Jiaoqiu was still just a person. One single person in this wast cosmos, a flickering flame of a soul which was threatening to give into the darkness like the weakling that he always was....

And then, he met someone. Someone who became precious to him, someone who allowed him to just... Breathe. To let loose, every once in a while. Someone who he just loved to be fussy about, a person so singlehandedly tailor made for him that it was practically too good to be true. He loved being by his beloved's side, watching over them, taking care of them. It felt good having someone all for yourself, someone who you didn't need to share with anyone -

Much like a house of cards, everything crashed down once he found out that he was getting ahead of himself. He had not made you his quite yet, even if in his mind there would be no other who could fill the empty black void in his heart.

A sharp thorn in Jiaoqiu's side was this absolute pest of a Cloud Knight, a person so singlehandedly determined to take you away from him, a knight so caught up in his own valor and glory that he had failed to notice all the subtle changes around him.

The devil was always in the details. No one ever paid attention to those little details. And Jiaoqiu, the cunning fox, could be a truly terrifying devil if he felt threatened.

Jiaoqiu watched you bite into the meat, the lightly pink centre catching his eye as his smile turned slightly wicked. His gaze lowered down towards the fresh juices which dripped from the meat and onto the pristine white plate, a happy smile on your face.

You inquired about the source of the divine meat for the entirety of the afternoon but Jiaoqiu would always give you non answers or simply dodge the question.

Jiaoqiu loved you. He loved you like no one before. He loved you so much that his heart would stop beating if you ever broke it. His love was deep, dark and wast like space itself.

And you had indeed formed a little crack on his bleeding heart. Not enough for him to do something truly drastic but... It was enough for him to be angry. Angry at the thought that you had allowed this knight into your personal space. You don't need that fool, you already have Jiaoqiu. There's absolutely no need for that frivolous little knight to even be breathing the same air as you, Jiaoqiu was more than capable of taking care of you all on his own.

He had made it his mission to steal back the air the knight had taken from you. At the back of his head, Jiaoqiu could still hear the sickeningly loud crunches of the endless pile of bones, the messy table which reeked of blood and putrid, his snow white hands tainted with the sticky crimson liquid as he hacked and chopped and cooked.

In the end, he was going to teach you a lesson, even if you were not aware of it. Please, be gentle with him. Do not break his heart anymore than it already is. Jiaoqiu is a sensitive and sweet man, he has no desire to be rough with the object of his affections. And yet, even he knows that a small dosage of tough love, as he likes to put it, was more than necessary from time to time.

[pretzel-box]

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst, Arguments, mentions of blood and death, main character dies, Sebastian is sleep deprived, starved, dehydrated and delusional and imagines reader next to him.

Words: 3,3k

Sebastian Solace loves midnights.

There is a serenity in those silent hours, a quiet stillness that fills the blackside hallways like a slow, gentle tide and reaches even the darkest corners that even Sebastian never saw before. The only sound that his ears picked up is the slow dripping of murky water down the steel pipes—careful, deliberate, rushing in its own pace to follow gravity's lead.. Each droplet falls to the floor, breaking the surface of a small puddle in the corner of his shop, sending ripples outward in perfect symmetry. The water doesn't just drop and ripple but it reflects the faint glow of his lure, nestled among his raven hair, its light almost a match for the illuminating moon and stars that failed to reach the depths of the facility.

Every so often, the Saboteur would set aside his endless collection of files, neatly sorting them into stuffed drawers, his every movement unhurried, almost tender. It’s a rare thing, this softness, this willingness to let his guard down and move through his world without urgency or purpose. The rigid pride, the air of invincibility he wore like armor, it all faded away in these midnight hours. It was the only time he allowed himself to just be Sebastian.

Here, in the stillness of the night, he found a kind of solace. The world wouldn’t let him die—death was forbidden, death was wrong. But suffering? Suffering was fine, expected even. He was to endure it all, every fiber of his being unraveling under the weight of an uncertain eternity within this facility, a reflection of his own fractured mind.

“The plant,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the stillness, close enough to touch his thoughts but too distant to reach his skin. Your words echo in his mind, even as he remains still, listening more to the sound of you than the faint water droplets that had once filled the silence. They’ve become nothing more than a quiet, almost fading, background hum now, as if the world itself had quieted to hear you speak.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. His body refuses to move, frozen in place. Instead, he stares ahead at the cold, gray concrete wall, its familiar chill pressing against him like a long-held grief. That wall has always been there, a constant, an unyielding presence in his life. He hates it, hates the memories it holds—the times he was happier and more broken all at once. It’s hard to say if he’s ever been lower than he is now.

“The plant wasn’t watered,” you say again, your voice soft but insistent, like a gentle breeze. You sit on the floor, legs crossed, near the puddle where the water drips, your gaze fixed on it as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the entire world. As if Sebastian Solace, sitting next to you with his feigned smile, wasn’t the most captivating presence in the room.

He feels your presence beside him like a balm to his fractured soul, a quiet comfort in the chaos of his thoughts. He doesn’t need to look at you to know that you are there, sharing this quiet midnight with him. It is enough, this shared silence, this simple act of being. For now, it is enough.

In the dark, when the world lay down to rest, the blackest hour of the night became a battlefield for those still awake. It was in these quiet, relentless hours that the mind turned on itself, each thought a weapon��memories like fists, feelings like knives, tearing down the defenses carefully built up in the daylight. You knew Sebastian fought these battles too. You could see it in the way he carried himself, in the weight he bore in his shoulders. The way they slumped, as if the pressure of it all was dragging him down, daring to suffocate him.

But you didn’t speak of it. You knew there was no need to put words to something so deep and so painfully familiar, something so natural, when Sebastian already knew it himself. Words wouldn't help, they would only sharpen the edges of the wounds that had yet to heal.

The water droplets continued their steady descent, still rushing down the same rusty steel pipe, falling from a height into the same reflective puddle. The ripples spread out across the surface in perfect, mesmerizing circles, breaking the stillness, only to settle once more. It was still oddly captivating, even after all this time. In the darkness, it was easy to lose yourself in something so simple, so repetitive. It was one of the things you could watch over and over again without getting tired.

“The plant,” he repeated after a long, aching silence. His voice, naturally deep, was rough now, hoarse. It sounded like a painful scratch against your ears, the kind of sound that spoke of nights without sleep, of thoughts that gnawed at the edges of his mind. You watched him, watched as his expression furrowed, his eyes distant. He seemed to be trying to remember, trying to dig through the fog of his thoughts to find what you were talking about. Was there a plant before? Had it mattered at all?

His thoughts were murky, clouded by a haze of exhaustion and something else—something deeper, more insidious. Green.

Green was a color he hated, he realized with a sudden clarity that startled him. It was strange to think of hating a color, but he did, with every fiber of his being. It pierced his fluorescent eyes, clawed at his mind, triggered memories so violently that he wished he could erase it from existence. Green reminded him of too much, of things he wanted to forget but never could. It was the color of his suffering, the hue of his nightmares, the shade of his regrets.

He cursed under his breath, a low, frustrated sound. How could he hate something so simple, so inescapable? How could he want to tear apart a color? But he did. God, he did. And you, sitting beside him, felt the depth of that loathing, that anger, even if you didn’t know the exact reasons behind it. You could sense it in the way his hands clenched, in the way his jaw tightened.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, your hand moving slowly, hesitantly, until it hovered just above his. You didn’t touch him, not yet. Just the proximity of your hand, the closeness of your presence, was enough to let him know that you were there, that you understood or maybe pretending to.

“The plant,” he said again, softer this time, almost as if he were afraid of the word. He still didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the puddle now too, on the droplets that fell with a rhythm that was both maddening and comforting. “Why?”

Your lips curved into a small, all saying smile, flashing on your face and replaced the calmness with a familiar sight. “Because you forgot to water it, Sebastian. Because it’s still here to thirst.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He wasn’t sure why, but your words, simple as they were, felt like a balm to his soul even when you didn't say anything comforting.

“I pretended it wasn’t important,” Sebastian murmured, his eyes falling shut, as though by closing them he could erase the gray concrete walls around him, the murky puddle of water on the floor, the relentless green that seemed to taunt him, to mock his every thought. And perhaps, too, he could erase the sensation of you sitting so close, the divinity of your presence beside him. It was a sensation he could neither fully embrace nor escape from, as if the very act of being near you was both a comfort and a curse. He tried so desperately to shut it all out, to suffocate the feelings that clawed at his insides, but even as he spoke, he choked on the impossibility of his own escape. “But it pierced me from the inside.”

“The plant?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, like the soft brush of wind against water. The droplets continued their slow descent from the rusted pipe, splashing into the puddle below with a steady, unyielding rhythm. The wall remained as it was, tall and indifferent, and you stayed seated beside him, unmoving, as if the two of you were carved from the same stone. You didn’t turn to look at him; there was no need. He was still the same man—burdened, lost. Nothing had changed, and you wondered if it ever would.

Once, there had been a plant—small, fragile—perched on the edge of the metallic table in his shop. It had been a source of contention between the two of you, its very existence a catalyst for your frequent arguments. You would tend to it with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place in such a harsh, unforgiving environment, your fingers brushing gently against its delicate leaves, your eyes soft with care. “You can't just run off,” Sebastian had snarled during one such argument, his voice raw with frustration, his claw-like hands cutting through the air in a gesture of anger. The veins in his neck had stood out sharply, and his eyes had burned with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. There were moments when you could see the depth of his suffering, buried beneath the rage, a tempest of pain and fear and longing. His need to protect, to control, was born out of that suffering, and in those moments, you could almost feel sorry for him.

You remembered that day vividly—the way he’d stood over you, trembling with a barely restrained urge to strike, his face contorted with a mix of anger and something else, something darker, more desperate. He had spat the words at you, his voice breaking with the effort to contain himself. And you, stubborn and unyielding, had met his gaze head-on, your hands still cradling the fragile plant as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Now, in the stillness of the night, with only the soft sound of the water droplets and the echo of your past selves hanging between you, you felt a strange sense of calm. The memory of that argument, like so many others, was a testament to the fragile balance you maintained—a balance between what was said and unsaid, between your conflicting desires and the reality of your circumstances.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you said softly, breaking the silence, your eyes still focused on the puddle, watching as the droplets created ripples that spread outwards, fading into the stillness. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was listening, to feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy with unspoken words. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not here. Not now.”

He didn’t respond, not at first. But you could sense the shift in him, the way his shoulders sagged just a little, the way his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. The green haunted him, you knew that much. It was a color tied to his memories, to his pain. To things he couldn’t—wouldn’t—speak of. But you also knew that there was a part of him that wanted to, that needed to. A part that longed for release, for the kind of understanding that could only come from another soul.

“Maybe one day…” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.”

You turned then, just slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. He looked small, sitting there, almost like a child lost in a world that had moved on without him. And in that moment, you just let your mind take over and replay the memories you both tried to swallow down so badly.

The dim light of the shop flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the room. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight that pressed down on everything. You stood at the edge of the metallic table, your hands tenderly cradling the small, fragile plant you’d been nurturing. Its green leaves were vibrant against the dull gray of the shop—a small, defiant burst of life in a place that seemed to reject it.

Sebastian stood across from you on that day, his tall frame tense with anger. His eyes, usually so guarded, were blazing with a fury once more that made your heart pound. You knew what this was about; it was the same argument you’d been having for days now. But tonight, something felt different. There was a sharp edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a desperation that cut deeper than his usual annoyance.

"You can't just keep doing this," he snapped, his voice rough and jagged, like gravel scraping against metal. "You can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine, that you can just…carry on like this. It’s reckless!"

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “What’s reckless is you thinking you can control everything, that you can control me! I’m not some soldier you can just order around, Sebastian.”

He flinched at that, a flash of something like pain crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a hardened, almost cruel expression. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?” he hissed. “That just because you care about a fucking plant, you’re somehow above all this. Above us.”

His words stung, cutting deep. You felt your chest tighten, your breath catching in your throat. “That’s not—”

“You’re delusional if you think this is going to change anything,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “That plant, your stupid idealism—it’s all pointless. Just like you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you just stood there, stunned. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he was looking at you with that cold, unyielding stare.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m done.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind you. The cool facility air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the burning in your chest. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as you walked away, each step, despite the heavy feelings, taking you further from him, from his cruel words.

You weren’t sure where you were going—anywhere but here. The walls of the facility seemed to close in around you, suffocating, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You just needed to get away, to clear your head.

But then, as you turned a corner, you saw them—a group of Urbanshade soldiers. Their dark green uniforms were almost invisible in the dim light, their faces hidden behind masks and their shiny gear reflected the gentle light that surrounded you all. You froze, the limbs you were trusting all your life started to paralyze, your heart racing. You’d heard stories about them—about what they did to those who crossed them, or worse, those they decided to take in. You knew what they did to Sebastian, to the others, and what they will do to you with their mighty authority and the loaded guns that rested in their gloved hands.

One of them spotted you, and you saw a flash of recognition in their eyes. “Hey, you! Stop right there!”

Panic surged through you. You didn’t wait to hear the rest, you couldn't when your limbs started to ease and your body switched into the flight modus, running. You turned and ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could hear them close behind you, their heavy boots pounding against the floor like drums, their shouts echoing through the corridor.

You turned another corner, your mind racing. But there was nowhere to go—the corridor was a dead end. You stopped, your back against the gray concrete wall, your chest heaving in a state of pure panic. They were getting closer. You could hear them, feel the vibrations of their steps.

And then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared. Sebastian. He was slithering towards you, his face a mask of determination. He held himself with pride and strength despite looking like a mirror image of your thoughts, softly illuminated by the golden light of the lamps. At that specific moment, you were too shocked to move. What was he doing here? He’d followed you?

“Get behind me,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t have time to think. You moved behind him, pressing your back against the cold, concrete wall. The soldiers rounded the corner, their eyes locking onto Sebastian. There was a tense silence, a moment of stillness before the storm.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, his hand on his weapon. “This doesn’t concern you, Saboteur,” he said, his voice cold. “Move aside.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch, he lost the ability to be scared of those soldiers a long time ago, refusing to feel anything but pure hatred. “You’re not taking them,” he said, his voice calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning that was clear as crystal.

The soldier’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to ask again.”

Sebastian’s response was swift. He lunged forward, his movements a blur, striking the soldier with a force that sent him sprawling to the ground. The others reacted immediately, drawing their weapons, but Sebastian was faster. He moved with a deadly grace, his strikes precise and powerful.

You watched, your heart in your throat, as he fought them off. He was outnumbered, but he fought with a fierceness that was almost terrifying. You wanted to help, to do something, but you were frozen in place, fear and shock holding you captive.

The corridor was filled with the sounds of the struggle—the grunts of pain, the clang of metal against metal. You could see the determination in Sebastian’s eyes, the sheer will to protect you, to keep you safe.

But there were too many of them. And as you watched, you realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t hold them off forever.

You had to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and watch him fight alone. You took a deep breath, your hands trembling, and stepped forward, ready to—

Blood. Fine droplets of red liquid that hit the gray wall like a firework, the iron-like smell creeping up his nose and Sebastian took a minute. He blinked, first once, then twice. Blood. On his claws, sticking in between them like watered paint, running down the large form of his rough hands, further into his sleeves.

Then there was your face, it wasn't visible to his bright eyes, but you didn't move. Your delicate body was squished in between loose body parts of what must have been humans in expensive gear. Your hair covered your eyes, your hands covered the wound and the blood covered your body. It seeped into the clothes that you wore and dripped down your skin that started to lose its warmth.

“Did you always hated me that much?”

He finally moved his head, his face was blank. No faux smile. No depressed frown. No pride, anger or guilt. It was flat and empty like a canvas. The he stretched out his arm, his eyes looking at his own claws, the memories of blood were gone, his hands were clean. And his clean hands would seek out your touch, hovering above your cheek. He missed the warmth, the softness, the tender smile. And when he tried to close the gasp, his hand moved through you.

He blinked.

You were gone.

Sebastian Solace loved midnights. Hated the color green and bathed in the blood of a divinity.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

[creepy-friday]

Creepypasta x Fem!Proxy

I got a notification via E-Mail that someone left kudos on a fanfiction I forgot about on AO3.I deleted it and decided to rewrite it here.It's not my best work.

Their chatter and the crunching of leaves around the fresh murder in front of you didn't hold the resonating sound of the pen scribbling on your notebook to not fully grasp your attention.

Each word is perfectly put in its right place and with each glance at either the mutilated corpse not too far from you or on the policemen's observations you get closer to the calligraphic and professional sentence you always end every report. Thinking that's enough for today, you placed the notebook back in the backpack you firmly held on your shoulder, the right strap being loose to the mid of your back.

You fade away in their chatter, adding to the crunching of the leaves back in the direction you came from-the woods. You weren't in a particular hurry as today's 'true work' only beggings after two more hours when the manor will 'welcome' a new resident in. The Master dutied you to "welcome them in" as you do to every unfortunate newcomer.

Passing the same route you memorized as the back of your palm, you place your hand on a few oak trees as you pass them, some having so vaguely craved his symbol on them. The oak trees remind you of him as well, his tall and demanding figure only adding to his ghostly white, eerie presence. You were in no place to doubt his wishes, and neither were any of your colleagues-but out of his reach, if that's even possible, you can be curious about his ways of resolve.

The mere thought of a new resident sends shivers down your spine and a pounding headache. To have to deal with another mentally unstable rapist or murderer only adds to the stress of living in his manor.

The crunching on the leaves stops as you grab your bag one more time, ruffling a bit inside of it before pulling your mask out and adjusting it on your face. Not wasting any time you get the notebook out and enter the end point of your destination-an old-fashioned manor that was housing about 15 people. A single push of the enormous marble doors gets them opened, letting the remaining light of the day shine on the dark red material. Closing them back makes you think they're heavier, a deep thud resonating through the silence of the manor before it was accompanied by a pair of footsteps that faded as quickly as they came.

You decided to pay them no mind and to finish your task before the sun could set, ignoring the pair of glowing green eyes that thought they could stalk you from the darkest corner of the room.

"Home so early?" BEN asked with a grin on his face.

The manor has three main floors and many other pairs of stairs, each leading to different parts of the building,but now you were heading to the very last floor, on the very top of it where a room stood out in particular from the others. The last floor was made of a set of 10 inhabitable rooms, in the center of them being one room made out of various shades of red that gave an expensive yet eerie feeling around it. As soon as someone enters the last step and makes their way on the floor, low static begins as the walls start to become suffocating. Each window is shut and hasn't been opened since the day you came here. As you approach the habitated room, the 11th one, the static only grows, but you learned how to combat it, even if the air becomes thicker with each passing secound.

There you stood,in front of The Master of this manor,your rescuer and provider,even with closed doors you felt his gaze piercing your soul,shattering it apart. A different static sound could be heard-the signal that you were free to enter. The room looked as clean as ever, the window behind the tall figure holding no dust particle despite not anyone cleaning it,not even the books on either side of the room had any sign of age on them.

Taking your mask off you reglated your voice and started your statement."I've bought the very few details of Jeffrey's victims."

Silence. Placing the open notebook on the counter you waited for his response,but he didn't even looked at it. Even if his face held no expression,you could feel the tension that beared it.

He finally gave attention to the notebook in front of him for a bare second before returning his head to the clipboard in front of him. A few moments had passed,yet the only thing that was heard was your thumping heart inside your chest.

"Dissmised." you gently bowed your head before you took your notebook back and walked straight out of his office.The familliar creature in front of you turned into something darker as time progressed.

The silence of the manor was disturbed by the chatter of two masculine voices. "Piece of shit Rogers.." a faint click was heard accompanied by some heavy coughs. The man's comment was responded with a few shakes of a pill bottle.

  "You still had some?" you could recognize this raspy voice in any nightmare,Masky's or Tim's bickering being present even in your sleep. Most residents prefer to not use their real name if they can avoid it,mostly to show the lack of empathy and to amplify the need to show that we're strangers to each other.

  "I gotta look out for myself." his partner and friend that lead him to this manor 3 years ago stated. "We're murderers,Brian." Masky replied,half annoyed that his friend isn't understanding of his stress regarding his 'work'. You decided to ignore your partners,making yourself as small and as silent as possible to ride up the stairs to the silence of your room,appealing to your proxy skills,but to not much succes.

 "Where you've been, bitch?" the white masked man barked. "Ditching work for a few notes isn't some lead shit,isn't it?" he continued as he dragged a long puff from his cigar. "Respond motherfucker." he flicked the cigarette down and as he was about to make his way to you Hoodie shaked again his bottle of pills. "You're tired. Get some rest." Masky snatched the pill bottle and walked the other way,adjusting his mask back on. 

Should you thank Hoodie? No,what he did wasn't for your sake,but for this manor's moments of silence before the storm. There were a set of unspoken rules,each one of us knowing them the moment we set foot inside this haunting place. Fights were not allowed inside public rooms,all conflict is either in one's intimacy or outside the manor's quarters. Masky's temper almost made this rule impossible to follow but Hoodie's calm demeanor complimented his fiery personality perfectly. Maybe that's why they came together here in the first place.. "How long now?" Hoodie's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "One month until the police said they will have a lead." after a few moments of silence his silvery voice responded "Son of a bitch." he got up and walked after his partner,no other word being exchanged in return.

  We were in a sticky situation at the moment,you were only the voice mail of it. Every now and then you are tasked to go out in town to find out if there is any evidence that could lead to the murderous activity of this manor. Every source of evidence is destroyed by any means,the digital evidence is handled by BEN and the human one is handled by the occupats of this manor. Proxies,such as you and the other three men are put to tougher missions,including getting rid of the bodies from the other's killings.

   Recently, Jeff was tasked to get rid of papers in a detective's house but his careless attitude didn't calculate that his wife was home, resulting in his need to get rid of her.

    She managed to run but not too far off as she was killed in the place you just attended. Since his job wasn't to get rid of the body,he called in a proxy,not even bothering to hide the evidence. From what you managed to hear,Toby was the only proxy available at the moment and his arrival was late because of the encounter of a creature on his way out the woods,resulting in others finding the body. You only massaged your temples to the tought of him anxiously walking around his room,waiting for The Master's punishment.

   A few knocks got your attention, making you open the doors in an instant after giving your clipboard one more look. It held the information of the new resident of this manor, its name being on the very top in bold letters, your thumb holding the clipboard on 'Cody's' family name.

[ghuleh-recs]

It was our beloved Bee's (@da-rulah) birthday yesterday! To celebrate I've made us all a mixtape of some of her greatest hits... which ended up being almost everything she's written. Whoops. The only reason I left anything out was to save some for next year! Bee is such a kind, lovely, generous, TALENTED soul and I'm so very lucky to have befriended her. So go forth and read some top tier papa (and Mary!) smut. Leave Bee some comments while you're at it—as a lil' bday gift. ♡

recs under the cut.

Rituale Septem - Terzo (and everyone else) x Reader - 74k

Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings… But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work…

Rubenesque - Secondo x Plus Size!Reader - 7.8k

Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same. So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself?

A Personal Ritual - Copia x Reader - 2.1k

"With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.   You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even… It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate."

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x Reader - 72k (WIP)

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

In Cold Blood - Terzo x Reader - 19.4k

Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x Reader - 22k

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having…

Learn the Ropes - Secondo x Reader - 2.4k

Secondo likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But you'd always wondered what he might do if one day, you decided to flip the script, and take charge for him…

Copia gets Bullied - Copia x Reader - 2.2k

"I know this trope for Cardinal Copia is over done but I would love, love your take on it. I would like a sister of sin who Copia have had a crush on, come and comfort him after witnessing him getting bullied and embarrassed. But the poor Cardinal is an emotional crying wreck that the sister decide the only way to comfort him is by being sexual with him for the first time🙈"

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[romugh]

The Russian Shades of Red - introduction

A/N - hello hello guys! back from my big big hiatus, and finally have motivation to write again. this is an idea that has been marinating in my drafts for over two years now, and i've decided to try and make it an actual story. anyhow, i hope you enjoy reading this introduction chapter!

"Love is a lie, Chaisan. No matter what kind, it will always be an equivocate. It makes you weak."

I walk by his side, every step heavier than the one before. It was getting hard to keep my stride as voiceless as my reactions to the stupid words coming out of his mouth.

I know that he knows.

I know how he knows.

I keep my silence, trailing behind him, knowing deep down there's no turning back anymore. The dark, unforgiving concrete hall stretches out endlessly before us, its oppressive atmosphere thick with unspoken dread. To my left and right, young faces, etched with both defiance and despair, watch me pass with eyes that speak of horrors endured and futures uncertain. Each step echoes ominously, a grim cadence punctuated by distant sounds of training and pain. His presence beside me is a palpable force, a silent reminder of the ruthless authority that governs this labyrinthine world.

As we move forward, I can feel their gazes upon me-a mix of fear and hope flickering in their eyes. They are the lost souls of this clandestine realm, their innocence stripped away in the pursuit of a cruel destiny. Their whispers cling to the cold walls like desperate prayers, pleading for a chance at freedom from the shadows that consume them. In their fleeting glances, I glimpse the raw determination to survive, tempered by the harsh reality of their existence. I steel myself against the rising tide of empathy, knowing that in this place, compassion is a luxury none can afford.

Dread clutches at my heart like a vice as we move further and further into the intricate corridors of this forbidding place. The oppressive silence is punctuated only by the faint hum of distant machinery and the occasional muffled sound of activity from unseen rooms. Every step forward feels like a descent into the unknown, each turn potentially leading to another trial or revelation that could shatter whatever remains of my fragile resolve.

As we approach the door at the end of the hall, my apprehension peaks. He pushes it open with an indifferent gesture, revealing the room beyond-a stark chamber bathed in a subdued, ominous light. The air within seems heavier, charged with a tension that mirrored my own escalating fear. Without a word, I enter, and the sensation washes over me like a wave-the chilling certainty that this was the place where I had been forced to confront the darkest aspects of myself. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows that danced on the walls, conjuring memories I had tried so hard to bury. This was the room-the one where I had faced the ultimate test of loyalty and survival. The walls seemed to close in around me, each corner whispering echoes of past decisions and haunting choices. The weight of those moments hung palpably in the air, a silent testament to the darkness that had once consumed me.

The sudden impact of his fist against my chest takes my breath away as the intensity pushes me on the cold floor of the cell he dubs "Chaisan's Room". Pain radiates through me, but it's nothing compared to the realisation sinking in like an anchor in my gut. In this dark, suffocating room that holds memories of anguish and betrayal, I know now what he expects of me.

His voice cuts through the silence, his Russian accent filled with a chilling certainty that sends shivers down my spine. "You're worth nothing, Chaisan. You're just an experiment. You're mine, nothing else. Not a best friend, not a sister, not a daughter, not a girlfriend. You're nothing but a puppet, and I'm holding the strings while the world watches the show."

I push myself up on my elbows, the taste of blood on my lips as I meet his cold gaze. This room, where shadows dance cruelly upon the walls, is where the truth becomes undeniable. I swallow hard, steeling myself for what lies ahead, knowing that the only way out may be through a darkness that threatens to consume everything I once held dear. In the fear of being caught in an even more emotionally vulnerable state, I shut my eyes, only hoping to buy myself a bit more time.

My closed eyes can't block out the image of the smirk on his face. I stay motionless, aware that any movement could escalate the situation. The subtle sound of calloused fingers brushing against fabric, combined with my years of training, tells me he's smoothing out his shirt.

"Clean up your mess, Chaisan, and I'll see what I do with you later. You're not getting out of this so easily."

It takes some time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, but once they do, I wish they never did.

"Vitaya."

I repress the cold chills climbing up my spine, looking deep into the blue eyes of the young girl whose hair I combed less than 5 hours ago. She isn't looking at me. She's looking at the gun pointing at her head. She sees the trembling, I do too, and we both know he does too.

"Are you weak, Chaisan? Are you, a thirteen-year-old, as weak as this six-year-old pathetic girl?"

The silence in the room is deafening. The girl's breaths are inaudible, despite her chest heaving with the effort of her overworking lungs. As I shake my head, her ocean-blue eyes shift from the barrel of the gun to meet mine.

I see the waves, menacingly poised to engulf the dunes. I see hope, buried deep within the ocean, much like the rocks we once hurled from the cliffs. I see trauma, as pervasive in the sea as salt in the water.

I see eyes full of life.

"Chaisan."

We both look at the man ruining our lives.

'If you don't do it, I will."

I know what that means. The long awaited shower the little girl will be promised to have won't run on water, but gas.

Driven by survival instinct, I pull the trigger, my gaze still fixed on the man who just forced me to kill my sister.

But now, instead of the ocean-blue eyes of my sister or the forest-green eyes of the girl i thought i'd be met with, I stare into the azure-blue eyes of my best friend.

My best friend, tied in the fair in front of me, holding my frantic stare steadily. She seems calmer than I've ever seen her before, almost as if she has the situation under control.

Which she doesn't.

My eyes drift lower, to the necklace she's wearing, matching mine.

"I can't," I whisper desperately. "Don't do this, Dreykov, please. I'll do anything. Spare her. Take me instead. Just keep her alive."

His imposing presence closes in around me, stifling and suffocating. I stay motionless as he extracts one of the knives from my suit's compartment and presses it against my jawline.

"Am I sensing love here, Chaisan? Love is for children."

He emphasises his last sentence by tearing my hidden necklace from around my neck and digging the blade of my knife into my cheek.

A single tear traced a crimson path down my face, lingering over the fresh wound where my necklace once brought solace and hope. Dreykov thrust a gun into my trembling hands.

"It's okay, Vee," the blonde girl in the chair reassured me. "I promise."

She nodded, her affectionate smile tinged with pride, love, bravery, and tears. One streaked down her cheek, a poignant testament to her resolve.

I shook my head as I raised the gun, blocking out Dreykov's commands. My focus narrowed to the girl before me. I wanted to imprint every detail into my memory: her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes alive with memories of lessons shared and bonds forged. Her smiles, smirks, sobs, and now, another tear tracing her cheek.

I felt Dreykov's gun against my temple, but her presence anchored me, and I didn't hear his threats.

"I'm sorry, Bee," I whispered. "Я люблю тебя." [I love you]

She gave a faint smile, nodding before closing her eyes.

"Я тоже люблю тебя, Витайя," she murmured. "I promise. It's okay. You've got this and I'll be cheering you on from above." [I love you too, Vitaya]

I close my eyes before pulling the trigger.

A life for a life.

"YELENA BELOVA, terminated by VITAYA CHAISAN."

[violettduchess]

Because your writings always leave me sighing because they're so amazing; can I request an afterglow with my gorgeous crimson-eyed fox prince?? 🦊 Please??? And thank you in advance love! ❤

A/N: Here you are @nightfoxqueen 💜 Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy it!

Nokto Klein x reader

Spice level: one 🌶

WC:468

He doesn’t let you go. 

Despite the heat of your bodies and the slick sweat brought on by the ceaseless pounding of your heart, the winding and explosive unwinding of your muscles. 

Despite the fluttering of your breath as you chase the air you need to steady the bucking stallion that is your heart. 

Despite the clenching and unclenching of your fingers in the soft ends of his silvery hair. 

Despite it all, Nokto continues to hold you close against him, clinging to the ghost of your lovemaking, as if keeping you wrapped within the shelter of his arms might prolong that sphere of intimacy that has become so very precious to him. After all, it was you who expanded his knowledge beyond the carnal, into a realm where the emotional rules alongside the physical. A place where his heart is as essential as any other part of him.

And oh, does he love loving you. He wanders the garden of your body joyfully, tasting all it has to offer, his hands leaving no dip or curve, no mountain or valley untouched. 

He loves the physicality of you. Your weight when you’re above him, hands braced against his strong shoulders, your thighs bracketing his, the heat of you rolling through him like thunder. The soft brush of your hair when you bend down like a reed in the wind and press your lips to his neck, his jaw. The bite of your eager fingernails. The warm sensation of your tongue on his skin. Your scent surrounds him like the cool twilight of a summer night. Vaguely floral, mysterious, promising. Yes, he loves all this about you. 

But he also loves this moment, right now, when the earth is done quaking, when he can simply hold you, soft and spent and boneless with happiness, glowing with satisfaction. Because when he holds you close like this, your head resting on his chest, he knows you can feel his heart beating under your ear, calling out to you, singing a song of absolute devotion. The depth of his love for you astounds him. It wraps itself around his bones, flushes his pale skin pink, seeps its way into every crevice of his soul and brightens its darkest corners. 

He has so many dark corners.

His fingers slide over your bare back, passing over the vertebrae of your spine like a believer counting the rosary. All the divinity he ever needs is here, in his arms. Loving you has brought him grace. Peace. Clarity.

You shift, sliding your leg along his, your hand echoing the motion down his side and all thoughts of heaven vanish. The intent of your movements is anything but angelic......and his slow smile positively simmers with seduction.

He rolls over, bringing you with him, his body arching above yours so that he may get a final glimpse of you, your starry eyes alight with siren intent, your lips parted in a suggestive smile, before diving headfirst into the bacchanalian pleasure you offer so freely.

This, he thinks as he lowers his head, falling into the heady depths of your enticing kiss….this is another reason to keep you so close. 

The instant return to pleasure.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

[voraciouskingdom]

Shame Unbound

"The shackles release their rusted grip."

For too long, you have carried the weight of shame upon your shoulders, a soul-shackle forged from the fires of judgment and self-loathing. But today, step into the liberating light of radical self-acceptance.

Shame is an ancient specter, a haunting presence that has stalked the paths of human consciousness since the dawn of civilization. It is the whisper that tells you you are unworthy, the veil that obscures your radiant truth. But you need not battle this aspect of yourself, for it is a teacher in disguise, beckoning you to shed the chains that bind you.

Visualize the chains of shame that have bound your heart, your creativity, your sensual essence. See the rust of eons encrusting the links, each flake a story of pain and rejection you've carried far too long. As you breathe deeply into this vision, feel the shackles begin to loosen, their grip upon you weakening with every exhale.

You are not the stories of shame that have echoed through the ages. You are a cosmic dancer, a radiant expression of the universe's infinite creativity. The masks you've worn, the roles you've played - these were mere costumes, no longer serving the truth you embody. Let them fall away, revealing the sovereign essence that has been patiently awaiting its unveiling.

Invoke the spirit guides who walk beside you, their luminous presence a beacon in the shadows. Call upon the ancestors who have traversed this terrain before you, their wisdom echoing through the ages. You are not alone on this quest for liberation; the cosmos conspires to midwife your rebirth.

Affirmation: "I release the shackles of shame and embrace the truth of my wholeness. I am enough, I have always been enough."

Ritual: Gather a length of chain or rope, representing the bonds of shame. Holding it in your hands, speak aloud the stories and judgments that have kept you bound. As you give voice to each one, envision it dissolving into the ether. When you have released them all, burn the chain/rope as an act of symbolic unbinding. From the ashes, collect a small portion and blend it with salt to create a cleansing ritual bath. As you immerse yourself, feel the last remnants of shame dissolve away, rebirthing you into radical self-acceptance.

With this ritual of fire, salt, and living waters, you unbind yourself from the legacy of shame. The rusted chains turn to ash as you claim your sovereignty. You are not defined by the judgments cast upon you, beloved one, but a cosmic artist ever re-creating yourself through the choices you make in this present moment.

Let this be your rebirth into wholeness. Step forward unshackled, embracing your humanity with all its messy complexities and infinite potential. For it is in the alchemy of self-acceptance that your true power is unleashed.

The path will not always be easy, for the echoes of shame have been insistent companions. But now you recognize them for what they are - frightened aspects begging to be loved and integrated into your radiant becoming. Embrace all that you are, radiant light and shadowed depths intertwined. You are the ever-evolving cosmic dancer, and the darkness you once fled from are merely shadows cast by your own brilliant luminosity.

Call on the guides and ancestors who have danced these steps before you. They will illuminate the way through your darkest nights and thickest veils of self-judgment. For you are never alone on this journey, but woven into the great web of a universe conspiring towards your wholeness. Blessed Becoming. The path of radical self-love awaits your unbounded step.

🔥❤️‍🔥

[dc-and-arfrona]

Losing You - Headcannons - Batboys

BatBoys! x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+

Masterlist

Summary:How do they deal after losing you?

—

Bruce Wayne / Batman - 

Bruce’s POV

Gotham City was still and somber, mirroring the shadows that draped over my heart. The night's silence amplified the cacophony of emotions that threatened to consume me. They had left – the one person who had dared to venture beyond the cape and cowl, penetrating the fortress I had built around my true self. [Y/N], whose presence illuminated even the darkest corners of my soul.

Memories of our shared moments danced before my eyes as I brooded in the dimly lit Batcave. How we met at a charity gala, where I found solace in their laughter amidst the superficial conversations. The way their eyes sparkled when I revealed my true self as Bruce Wayne, not the vigilante they called Batman. How we fought side by side against the criminals, not only as allies but as kindred spirits.

But darkness can never fully coexist with light. The battles I faced as Batman scarred my soul, and I couldn't ignore the toll it took on our relationship. I saw the worry etched in their eyes, the fear that I might never come back one night. They deserved a life unburdened by my relentless crusade.

Now, in the aftermath of our break-up, I find myself lost in a maze of emotions, grappling with the void they left behind. It's not just the love I miss but also the human connection, the sense of belonging they granted me. Gotham's protector could never afford such luxuries – I had a city to save, a legacy to protect.

[Y/N]’s absence gnaws at me, a constant reminder of the fragile balance between Bruce Wayne and Batman. I wander the empty halls of Wayne Manor, haunted by the memories of our laughter, our secrets, and our stolen moments of happiness. Every shadow whispers their name, a painful reminder of what I let slip through my fingers.

I still cherish the letter they left, the words etched onto paper with grace and understanding. They wished for me to find peace and to heal the wounds that I had ignored for far too long. But could I ever mend my fractured heart without them by my side? Could I be Bruce Wayne without the [Y/N]’s light to guide me?

As the nights pass, I continue to patrol the city's grim streets, relentlessly pursuing justice. But there's a hollowness to it all, an emptiness that echoes within the confines of the Batcave. My silent ally, confidant, and lover has vanished, leaving me to grapple with my emotions in solitude.

In the stillness of the night, I yearn for their presence, their touch, their warmth. And yet, I understand their decision. They deserve a life filled with light, love, and unencumbered joy – a life that my alter ego, Batman, can never truly provide.

I take a deep breath, resigning myself to the painful truth that love doesn't always conquer all. [Y/N] has become a beacon of hope not only for the people of Gotham but for me as well. They showed me that love could bloom amidst darkness, but it also has the strength to walk away when necessary.

So, I will keep [Y/N]'s memory alive in my heart as I carry on the never-ending fight against crime. Maybe one day, the shadows will lift, and I will find a way to honor their sacrifice by finding my own peace within the storm. Until then, I'll remain the Dark Knight, haunted by the absence of [Y/N], forever chasing after elusive happiness.

------

Dick Grayson / Nightwing - 

Dick’s POV

The nights in Blüdhaven were always alive with a chaotic energy that mirrored my own restless soul. As Nightwing, I soared through the city, the rhythmic flapping of my cape the only constant in a world full of uncertainty. But tonight, something felt different, as if the very essence of my being was shifting.

I couldn't shake the memory of their face – that special someone whose enchanting presence had woven its way into every corner of my heart. We had shared laughter, secrets, and stolen glances that spoke volumes in the silence of the night. They were my confidant, my partner, and my inspiration, illuminating my path even in the darkest moments.

But like an ethereal mist, they had slipped through my fingers. We had parted ways, the painful decision to let them go still etched into my soul. I couldn't bear to see them caught in the crossfire of my dangerous life as Nightwing. They deserved a chance at a life free from the perils of my world.

Now, as I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, my mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Their absence left a void that I couldn't fill, no matter how fast or far I ran. The laughter that used to echo in my ears was now replaced with the haunting silence of regret.

In the cover of night, I found myself at our favorite spot – the old clock tower where we had shared countless memories. Its towering presence seemed to echo the towering weight of my heart. I gazed out into the city, the twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the sky, and I couldn't help but wonder if they were looking at the same stars too.

Every crime I thwarted, every life I saved, it all felt hollow without them by my side. They had brought warmth to my nights, and now, their absence left me with nothing but aching loneliness. It was as if a part of me was missing, and I feared I would never feel whole again.

As I stood there, engulfed by my thoughts, a soft breeze brushed against my cheek, and I closed my eyes. And in that moment, it was as if I could feel them beside me – their presence lingering in the very air I breathed. The memories flooded back, and I realized that no matter how far apart we were, they would forever be a part of me.

They had taught me the beauty of vulnerability, of letting someone in even when it meant exposing my deepest fears. And as Nightwing, I had to be brave, but it was in their arms that I found solace, knowing that it was okay to be human, to feel pain, and to love.

With resolve in my heart, I knew what I had to do. I had to find them, to tell them that they were my anchor in the storm, that they were the light in my darkest nights. Even if we couldn't be together in the same way, I wanted them to know that they had forever changed me, that they were my north star guiding me through life's chaos.

As the city below continued to buzz with life, I took flight once more, my heart now infused with hope. I would find them, and together, we would navigate the uncertainties of life. For in their eyes, I had found a love that transcended the boundaries of time and distance – a love that whispered of forever in the depths of my soul.

----

Jason Todd / Red Hood - 

Jason’s POV

The weight of the Red Hood's choices bore down on him heavily, leaving scars both visible and unseen. Gotham's nights were filled with darkness, but within Jason Todd's heart, the darkness was unyielding. As he patrolled the city's shadows, he couldn't escape the memories that haunted him, memories that connected him to the one person he thought he had lost forever – the one who held a special place in his heart.

They had once been his guiding light, the one soul who could see through the jagged edges of the Red Hood's armor and into the wounded heart of Jason Todd. But circumstances had pulled them apart, leaving him adrift in a sea of turmoil.

On this particular night, the weight became too much to bear. Seeking solace and understanding, Jason found himself at Roy Harper's doorstep. Roy, a friend and fellow vigilante, had always been a source of comfort, someone who understood the struggle between darkness and redemption.

Roy welcomed Jason with a knowing nod, and they settled in a dimly lit corner of his apartment. The air was heavy with unspoken words as they exchanged glances filled with shared history.

"I've been carrying so much pain, Roy," Jason finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I miss them, you know? The one who meant so much to me. I miss who I was when they were with me."

Roy listened attentively, his eyes reflecting compassion. "I know, man. Sometimes the pain can feel unbearable, but that doesn't mean you have to carry it alone."

Jason took a deep breath, struggling to find the words to convey the torment in his heart. "Being the Red Hood is all I know now. It's like there's this void inside me, and I thought I could fill it with vengeance. But it's just made everything worse."

Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder, offering silent support. "You're not beyond redemption, Jason. None of us are. The path you're on might be dark, but you still have a choice. You can choose to heal, to find a different way."

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable in the presence of a friend who understood. "I want to be whole again, Roy, but I don't know where to start."

Roy smiled softly, recognizing the flicker of hope in Jason's admission. "You start by forgiving yourself, by accepting that mistakes are a part of being human. And then, you take one step at a time. Reach out to those who care about you, let them in. It won't be easy, but healing rarely is."

Jason nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter as he released some of the pain he had been carrying. "I'll try, Roy. I'll try to find my way back."

"You don't have to do it alone, brother," Roy reassured him. "I'll be here for you, and so will others who care about you. We all stumble, but it's how we pick ourselves up that defines us."

As the night wore on, Jason and Roy shared stories of the past, of battles won and lost, but most importantly, of hope. In the quiet moments between their words, Jason felt a glimmer of healing, knowing that he wasn't alone in his journey toward redemption.

And in the depths of his heart, he realized that the one who held a special place in his heart had never truly left him. They had left an indelible mark on his soul, one that reminded him that love and hope could still bloom amidst the darkness. With Roy's guidance, Jason understood that there was a chance for healing, for a second chance at life – a chance he was determined to seize, one step at a time.

------

Tim Drake / Red Robin -

Tim’s POV

The city lights shimmered below as I stood on the rooftop, my cape fluttering in the cool night breeze. Restlessness gripped me tonight, and memories of [Y/N], the one who had once held my heart, haunted my thoughts. As Red Robin, I dedicated myself to fighting crime, but this evening, I needed something more – a way to find peace amidst the chaos.

An idea struck me, and I decided to revisit the places where we had shared some of our most cherished moments. Each location held memories of laughter, intimacy, and genuine connection. I hoped that revisiting those places would help mend the pieces of my heart that felt fractured.

The first stop was the cozy café where we had shared our first cup of coffee together. Sitting at our old table, I sipped my coffee, reminiscing about how we had spent hours talking, sharing our dreams and fears. The warmth of the café and the memories it held brought both comfort and a pang of longing. It reminded me of a time when everything felt so much simpler.

Next, I strolled through the park where we often sought refuge. The trees had grown taller, but the bench we used to occupy remained, untouched by time. Sitting there, I gazed at the stars overhead, recalling the nights we spent stargazing together, finding constellations in the vast night sky. It felt like those moments were just yesterday.

The nearby arcade was my next destination. Surrendering to playful nostalgia, I immersed myself in the flashing lights and sounds of the games. Memories flooded back of the times we playfully challenged each other, laughter echoing in our ears as we vied for high scores.

My final stop was a quaint bookstore where we had lost ourselves in countless stories. I picked up a book they had recommended, feeling a connection to them through the words on the pages.

With each place I revisited, a sense of peace settled over me. These memories weren't just reminders of what was lost, but a testament to the love we once shared. Amidst the bustling city, I found moments of stillness, a chance to remember who I was before the pain and burdens of my vigilante life consumed me.

As I walked through the dimly lit streets, I realized that while I couldn't change the past, I could honor the memories we created together. Instead of dwelling on what had slipped away, I chose to cherish what we once had and find a way to carry that love with me into the future.

Revisiting those old date places allowed me to find peace – not by forgetting or letting go, but by acknowledging the significance of what we meant to each other. As Red Robin, I would continue to protect the city, but now, I knew that amid the chaos, there would always be a place where I could find a moment of tranquility – a place where our love still lingered.

------

Damian Wayne / Robin -

Damian’s POV

The weight of our recent breakup hung heavy on my shoulders as I sought refuge in the quiet solitude of my room. The emptiness seemed almost suffocating, a reminder of the void you had left in my life. I tried to distract myself with training and missions, but no matter how fast I moved or how fiercely I fought, I couldn't escape the pain in my heart.

It was then that I noticed Ace, my loyal Great Dane, gazing at me with his big, understanding eyes. He had been a constant companion throughout my life, a loyal friend who never judged me and offered comfort in his own special way. I had never thought to seek solace in him, but at that moment, the idea seemed like the only respite from the anguish.

With a heavy sigh, I plopped down onto my bed, and without any prompting, Ace hopped up beside me, nudging my hand gently with his snout. The warmth of his presence offered a sense of comfort that I hadn't realized I needed.

I buried my face into Ace's fur, taking in his familiar scent, and wrapped my arms around him. His steady heartbeat echoed in my ears, and for the first time since our breakup, I felt a flicker of tranquility. Ace didn't judge me or offer advice – he simply offered the warmth of his body and the steadiness of his presence.

It was as if he knew the turmoil in my heart and understood that sometimes words weren't enough. As I held him close, my mind drifted back to the moments you and I had spent together, the laughter, the shared secrets, and the happiness that seemed so distant now.

In the past, I might have scorned the idea of finding comfort in a pet, but with Ace by my side, I realized that his loyalty was just as valuable as any human connection. He didn't expect me to be anything other than myself, and his affection was unconditional.

As I lay there, wrapped in the warmth of Ace's embrace, I found myself slowly finding peace. The pain didn't vanish entirely, but it felt less suffocating, as if I had a friend who understood my grief and was willing to bear it with me.

Ace and I stayed like that for what seemed like hours, finding solace in each other's company. I couldn't help but feel grateful for his presence, a gentle reminder that even in the midst of heartache, there was love and comfort to be found in unexpected places.

As the night wore on, I drifted off to sleep with Ace by my side, his warmth and loyalty providing a balm to my wounded heart. In the embrace of my furry friend, I found a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, with time, the pain would ease, and life would regain some semblance of normalcy. Until then, I knew that I could count on Ace to be there, offering his unwavering comfort and companionship.

[writings-of-my-own]

Haven't I given enough? - Loki x Reader

Summary: Losing Loki to the hands of the Mad Titan pushed you towards the Dark Arts. A tale of grief and loss but above all, a story about unmeasurable love and sacrifice. What will a broken heart do when granted some hope? How will you react to the possibility of finding him alive?

You always knew you would go first. It was natural, it was the order of things. An immortal god would outlive a feeble mortal. This is how it was supposed to be. How it should have been. Never in your darkest nights did you imagine being left without him. This feeling, this nauseating realization tore you apart. You couldn’t stand. You couldn’t sleep or eat or do anything really for months after it happened. 

You could still see that moment so clearly, during the day when it would suddenly hit you while you would run an errand and you would have to hold on to the closest stool and remember how to breathe. But during the nights it was so much worse. It was like every dream would transport you back into that minute of terror. It felt like it lasted for a lifetime then but it was actually just a mere minute in which the Mad Titan got a hold of your lover’s throat, squeezing the life out of him right before your helpless form. The darkness of the night felt like a curse to you. The burden of your thoughts, the taste of the blame you took upon yourself, the lingering smell of his blood, they were all ghosts floating above your head, eating you alive. Before Loki, you were surviving. 

You never knew what living truly meant until he fell into your life. Like a drop in the ocean, he fitted perfectly. Loki rescued you from yourself and you broke through the most impenetrable of his walls to bring him back to light. And now you were crawling through life, while every moment seemed more gruelling than the one before. No lighthouse could guide you back home. Your home was long gone, it disappeared on that cursed spaceship on that damned night.

Thor used to call you sick when you would regularly throw up or suffer from migraines after hours of crying out your very soul. He might have been right, if being sick meant that you get shredded apart by your grief, only to be torn from the inside out harder each time you think that it might have lessened its grip on you. Then you were sick. 

You felt like you lost all sense of reality after he was gone. He was perfect, your Loki like you have dreamed him into existence. You were only loved in your thoughts, in the scenarios you were daydreaming about, in the books and movies that you inserted yourself into. And then there was Loki. And there was love. And after him, you were left in utter despair. 

Loki was patient above everything else. And in a way, you knew this was your greatest fear when it came to love, to be rushed, to be pressured because you were too late and because you were at fault for that, they said. But for him it did not matter, he was patient. He loved you from afar at first and then he loved you gently and in such a fragile way as if he was afraid you would break. As if he was fearful that he did not deserve you because of the nonsense the world was making him believe to be true. But each time he would withdraw his hand away from you after someone’s disgusted looks, you would pull him in even tighter than before. You would kiss him straight on the mouth, caress his cheek, and whisper words of love and adoration to his cruel mind.

It was frustrating really, how much you loved him. No words could do your feelings justice and you often felt like you were failing him by not being able to express how deeply dear he was to you. He was a stranger to these affections. A reassuring smile, a gentle touch, he imagined that the universe was mocking him with such goodness. He has been torn to pieces time and time again throughout his life. And whenever he managed to start building himself back up, that cruel fate of his found a way to kick him back to the ground again. So he was terrified when you showed up in his life. You were too good to be true, Loki thought. In the beginning, he would drag his eyes away from each of your smiles, berating himself for looking and for believing that they were directed at him. 

‘Stupid, worthless man, you truly believe you deserve this kindness?’ 

The barbaric voices of doubt were hissing at him, the words reverberating from every corner of his mind. One should understand though, he wanted it. He craved all of the love that you had to offer. Even then. Even after all the inhumanity that he suffered, the deepest pits of him yearned for a love so pure. When he was younger, Loki used to do a lot of people-watching. He saw how every person he ever knew was granted the luxury of love in one way or another. And he would scoff and criticise and berate them for falling for such a stupid trick. And then, in the loneliest hours of the night, he would send silent prayers to whatever deity there was that might have been listening, asking for the smallest fraction of what everyone else got. And when the day was particularly cruel, he would taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips and hug himself to sleep, chanting that one day it will be his turn. Aeons passed and his day never came. He started resenting love. The word disgusted him or so he wished and he swore that he would stay away from those intrusive thoughts that his heart would burden him with. 

Walls came up and the yearning for love was gone from the surface at least. 

Mortal and small as you were, you burst through his shields like a boisterous storm. Loki found himself yearning for your presence, lingering on a look or a small moment of approval from you like it was the very air filling his lungs. He hated it. He tried to chain his heart to the darkness with snide remarks or ruthless sarcasm but your firey nature only bit back at him and it enchanted his mind and soul even more than he would care to admit. But you were also so good. So very good and kind and loving that the shadows lurking and nagging in the corners of his mind would retract from how bright you shone sometimes and they would let him be. You would bring him moments of peace he has never deemed himself worthy of. 

Peace was a concept you completely forgot about, it was many moons ago that you had something similar to it and no matter how wrong it may sound, you didn’t crave it anymore. You wanted revenge. You wanted Thanos to pay and you wanted to see him suffer. For what he did to Loki. For what he did to Thor. For what he did to you. So you started planning, therefore you hid. 

You found a haven in your magic as it reminded you of him. You didn't plan to turn towards the Dark Arts, nor did you plan to spiral out of control at the rate you did. But you sought revenge, it was imprinting itself in your heartstrings and your blood. It controlled you. You became sick of rules or limitations, of notions as loose as right or wrong, villain or innocent. 

You obeyed these rules and held your morals in high regard. You did everything right. And yet, everything in your life is wrong. You couldn't help but wonder, if you would have had these powers when Thanos came for the Tesseract, would Loki still be alive? But Dark Magic always comes with a price. There are haunting voices in your head that taunt you, that chant gruesome thoughts for you to follow. And each time you give in to another spell, a black scaly layer of skin appears on our fingers. But you stopped minding it. You embraced the burning sensation of your newfound power and you promised yourself that you will find the Mad Titan and make him pay. 

The Avengers have been tracking him for years but to no avail. He seemed to have crawled into the deepest hole in the Universe. It looked like you would never avenge your beloved. Every part of you that you sacrificed in this mad pursuit of yours seemed to have gone in vain. Until one day. 

The door anything but flew from its hinges when Nat stormed into your quarters, informing you of a Stark ship returning with Bruce inside. He had been missing for a few months, crashing somewhere unknown and unreachable in his Hulk form. You figured he only recently managed to take control as Bruce, finding a way back home. Nat was livid, she couldn’t believe that they found him and she barely spoke three words to you, alerting you of the news before she took off towards the roof. 

You gathered your scattered pages of spells in a small pile and followed her where the ship was landing just as you set foot into the chilly air of November. Your hand was keeping your hair in place, as the wind from the propeller was hurtling chaotically around you. Thor, Steve and Tony appeared by your side in seconds and you took a step back towards them, letting Nat approach the metal doors that were separating her from her beloved. A spang of jealousy tugged at the darkest part of you, wishing that you could ever get this chance of ever reuniting with your missing soulmate. Only, unlike Bruce, Loki was not missing. He was gone. You shoved your selfish thoughts aside and watched your two friends embrace and whisper to one another until Bruce’s eyes settled on you. 

Like a match struck into his mind, he detached from Nat and wildly grasped your and Thor’s hand. If it were not for his iron grip, you would have completely dissolved into the hard cement. You had to shake your head lividly when you heard him and yet, you didn’t believe it. Bruce’s next affirmation sent you spiralling out of control and the logical part of you told you he might have gone insane.

"We have to go get Loki, fast. They have him. He is alive.”

No.

It couldn’t be. This was a trick. It was one of those venomous voices in your head that were playing with you again. You wriggled your hand out of Brue's grasp and you backed away, still shaking your head, like doing so could bring you back to the real world where no one was playing tricks on you. You used to be tormented by deceivingly beautiful dreams like this, where someone would bring Loki back to you or you would find him yourself, safe and sound. Then, no matter how the story went, just as you thought you reached him, he would be violently snatched away from your grasp and made to suffer unmentionable things in front of your helpless eyes.

Thor steadied you, your anchor and companion through all of this hurt, with a firm but trembling hand on your back, and that snapped you out of your impending, self-induced doom. You locked eyes with him and you saw it. Of course, the ever-optimistic God of Thunder would believe this. You wanted to, so badly. But each time your eyes would travel to Bruce, you expected a maniac grin from Thanos, laughing mockingly at you. It never came.

"Do not talk nonsense, Banner. My brother was subjected to the barbarity of the Titan. He is gone," Thor's voice grew raspier, his gaze accusatory to the words Bruce dumped on the two of you.

"Listen to me! He is on Sakaar, they found him on the remainings of the ship, heart barely beating."

Loki. Your Loki, you beloved, your salvation. Your chest was thundering, your blood was in your mouth. You clenched your hand onto Thor's forearm, allowing your entire quintessence a few seconds of solace. This was your dream of dreams, a wish you chanted to the Gods and deities for months until you gave up on faith. For a sparing moment, the whispers in your mind silenced themselves, the magic cursing through your veins felt warm and light. 

You were snatched out of your reverie only seconds after. Worry overtook your blood and you splurged thousands of questions Bruce's way. 

"Is he well? Why didn't he come with you? Why did you leave him there? Are you sure this is true?"

At the same time, Thor was voicing questions of his own.

"Who found him? Is he safe? How can we reach him?"

Bruce's gaze shifted to pure seriousness.

"I could not get him out of there. I need you two to listen to me and listen without letting your feelings get in the way," you felt as though that last remark was directed more at you than at Thor, who was holding his own as well as he could. Meanwhile, you were an indescribable mess.

A deep breath helped you gain some composure and you nodded at Bruce, urging him to go on.

"Sakaar is fraught with danger and deceit. Depravity lurks in every corner of the planet and you cannot get in or out without triggering numerous alarms. The ship that Thanos terrorized fell on Sakaar and guards gathered to inspect it in seconds. And they found Loki. Did you ever wonder why the ship was getting pulled into the opposite direction you two tried to stir it to?"

Bruce paused for a moment and you pondered upon that fact. Something strange happened to your ship that night after the Titan left. It started a free fall into what seemed like a dark abyss, like a force was pulling it violently and in the grief and desperation that was choking the two of you, Thor grabbed you and deserted it, barely making it out alive. You struggled against his grip then, wanting to join Loki, wanting to follow him into the darkest depths of the Universe, crying and screaming and begging Thor not to tear you away from his body.

"The people of Sakaar are magic syphons. When Thanos came, Loki's magic was at its peak, trying to protect Y/N. He threw a shield around you, a shield that took almost all of his will and power," you found a tear slip, as Bruce's gaze softened to meet yours again. You never knew that. That even in his final moments, he fought to guard you.

"You were passing their territory then and they sensed this immense leak of power. They tried to take it. The ship landed on Sakaar and they took Loki in. Only they realized that they were wrong. The power they sensed was stuck to you, it was your magic they were hunting, Y/N. I often heard them speak of it while I was in my cell, the guards went on and on about the magic of deceit, the one only you possess. But they sensed Loki's magic as well and saw two purposes in him. They made sure that he was back on his feet enough before they started to exploit him. They are syphoning his magic for themselves but they also keep him hoping that you will go for him, so they can imprison you and steal your powers for selfish, hungry reasons," Banner's tone was apologetic but firm while he spoke these horrors into existence, his gaze never leaving yours. 

"I heard ..." the scientist wanted to say something else then but he cut himself off, pitying you. He wanted to spare you the details of the torture Loki had to endure. The people of Sakaar were not merciful. 

Your life was at stake and Loki was well aware of that. He thought of you. No matter what they were doing to break him, draining him of his life and magic, he would close his eyes and go to you. You were the only thought keeping him from giving up alongside the hope that one day he would return to your arms. They would whip him and drown him, skin him or burn his body, inflicting magical illusions of you hurting. Still, he would close his eyes and search for you. As his body was giving up on him, he was not giving up on you. The mere idea of you was the only item in existence that kept him sane. The horrors would get worse with time, and his magic would get weaker but his devotion and love for you were imprinting themselves deeper into his DNA. 

One particular night could have given his location away if only you would have chosen to believe the agony that was now his reality. You were haunted by the ever-present terrors of the nighttime as they often came around. It was a hot night in June when you fell asleep after hours of crying. You prayed that the realm of dreams would take you away from what you had to call your reality but what you witnessed in your nightmare was infinitely worse. A crippling sensation was running down your spine as you found yourself in the corner of a suffocating, unlit dungeon. It was the first time you saw Loki in a dream other than that of his death. He was there, in the middle of the chamber, brought to his knees and in chains, heavy metal chains that were dangling from his wrists and his ankles. Three men -if you could call them that- with anomalous markings on their faces and small horns coming out of their skulls were circling him. 

You gasped forcefully, so loud that for a moment you slapped your hands over your mouth, scared that those horrifying creatures might have heard you. But the bizarre thing was that they didn't. You were a mere invisible spectator in this dream, not an actor as you often were. Loki's head was hung low, his hair matted with blood and falling over his face, shielding it from your view. You made a step towards him and called out his name. No reaction. Your hands were trembling terribly as you called to him again, making another step when you heard a raw voice speak.

"You know, I always wanted to test how much heat a Frost Giant could endure before they break," the tallest one spit out, as you finally saw the two burning iron blocks he was carrying in his gloved hands. The other two men advanced on Loki, ripping his dirty shirt off his back and the sight that greeted you made you sick with grief and despair. His entire back and torso were a reddening open wound. He had deep scars running from his neck, down his spine and disappearing under the hem of his pants. Much more scars that you remembered. They were gruesome and you found your eyes too weak to be able to look at them without wanting to scream. Blood was still dripping from some of them while others looked a few months old. The tissue around some wounds had no blisters. They were torturing him with heat. You felt like throwing up. And his chest, oh his chest. It was glowing blue and purple from the aggression it endured, wounds as large as fists growing darker and uglier.  

The monster holding the two iron bricks sent a nod towards his companion on the left. As on cue, he fisted the back of Loki's hair, raising his head, making his fatigued gaze meet that of the tallest one. It was the first time you saw Loki's face since you got here and it made you sob. 

"What have they done to you?" you whispered, placing a hand over your mouth. His eyes were lost in deepening violet bags, his lips dehydrated like he had not seen water in aeons. He looked worse than dead and you made a motion, trying to run towards him, wanting to cup his face and patch every wound you could cover with your hands but you found your body glued to the floor. No matter how hard you struggled, you were caged. 

You realized again that this was a dream. You took one last look into Loki's hollow eyes and urged yourself to wake up. You could not withstand this nightmare. 

Wake up, wake up. Please, wake up.

You kept on telling yourself, as the tall creature kicked Loki in the ribs with his boot. He groaned, but the sound was so devoid of intensity, he might as well have been dead. 

"Now, you will tell us what you know if you want me to stop."

"Go to Hell," Loki's voice came out so harshly, like even muttering these three words sent knives down his throat but his eyes were icy, hatred dripping out of them and he kept his head high, his expression regal and above all of them as he took on spitting at that monster's feet like he was spitting venom. 

"We are in Hell already," the horned beast laughed, slamming the two iron bricks on each side of Loki's chest forcefully. 

Just as they collided with his pale skin, a scream so hoarse and painful ripped right through Loki's throat. It was the worst sound you have ever heard in your life and you instantly fell to your knees, tarnishing in your invisible prison, screaming for them to stop. Loki roared in pain once more and you started crying, begging, pleading with the unhearing beasts to let go of him.

"Stop, I beg of you! Stop!"

Nothing seemed to work, as this infinite grief was stretching into eternity. Mocking both of your torment, the torturer pressed harder. You thought he might as well just have killed your beloved judging by the cries of pain that were ripping his chest cavity open.

"Loki!" You roared and at that exact moment, his eyes blew out wide open, staring straight into yours. And you woke up.

You found yourself screaming his name in your waking state as well, crying without an ounce of control. Ice-cold sweat was dripping down your face and back and you did not make it to the bathroom as you emptied the contents of your stomach right there on the floor next to your bed. You cursed your mind for conjuring such nightmares and ended up not sleeping for two days after that.

Planets away, Loki thought he was going insane after all this torture. He could have sworn that he saw you in that room, on your knees, crying out his name for a second. Just as his eyes bore into yours, you vanished. It could not have been anything but a cruel illusion. His mind was losing its edge and wake and he must be going insane, he thought. That sight of you, no matter how heartbreaking though, kept him alive for months. 

Neither one of you knew that during that moment, the Universe was merciful enough to bring you two together. Just for a second. You dismissed that vision as a nightmare and Loki thought it an illusion. You would soon find out that it was a clue all along.   

Bruce was responding to question after question coming from Thor, repeating the same information over and over and you got out of your clouded mind to cut them both off.

"We have no time to waste, I am leaving for Sakaar in an hour," your voice came out determined and harsh, snatching your hand away from Bruce but Tony got ahold of you in a millisecond, finally intervening.

"Did you listen to anything Banner said? Sakaar is a suicide mision. "

"And you want me to do what? Abandon Loki? I failed him enough as it is. Let go of me, Stark," a cold stare and a forceful pull were not enough to make Tony let go of you. Thor came between the two of you then, standing by your side.

"Tony is right to an extent. Sakaar might be a suicide mission, but more than anything it is a trap set out for you, Y/N. They want you. I will go. Alone, " Thor told you, his tone final as Tony sighed, exasperated and cut you off before you could protest again.

"You two are both dim right now. You cannot go alone Y/N, and neither can you, Point Break. You cannot do that because we are coming with you. If Sakaar is so hazardous, you will need a team."

You wanted to argue again. You were truly grateful for their help but you could not ask them to place themselves in danger for you. Steve spoke before you could voice your thoughts though.

"We want to do it and we will, Loki is an Avenger and we will bring him home."

You heard Bruce and Nat agree. Thor, on the other hand, was still hesitating.

"Y/N, my brother would kill me if he knew I deliberately took you to a planet that is actively hunting you down."

"And he would also kill you if he knew you were trying to stop me from doing what I wish."

It was true. No matter how dangerous a situation would be and no matter how protective Loki's nature tended to get with you, he would always let you choose for yourself. He would never force you into being anything other than yourself and Thor knew that.

You turned towards everyone else, then. 

"Suit up, get your deadliest weapons and meet me here if you want to join. We leave at sundown!" Your tone was stoic and final.  

Everyone ran inside to prepare and you took a moment to inhale a deep breath. Loki is alive. You could not believe it and yet it was true. Your only wish, the most impossible of dreams. For the first time in 11 months, it felt like your heart was beating. A hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your trance. Thor returned seconds after he left and he looked at you for one moment before he crushed you into a hug. You both started crying. You have not cried in a while, being too devoid to conjure any tears. 

"We will bring him home," Thor said between sniffles. You pulled back for a moment then, looking at him.

"You have to promise me something and you won't like it."

The God of Thunder was a resilient man, even after all the anguish he suffered. He was always doing the honourable thing and he loved his brother dearly. Though they were qualities you admired about him, you knew they represented a threat to the mission this time. 

Drying your cheeks with the back of your hand, you spoke your next words pleadingly.

"We go there to save Loki. That is our goal. No matter what happens, Loki comes home. And if it comes down to trading lives, you trade mine, you-"

"We will all come back home. Together." 

The prospect of losing either one of you was something Thor did not want to hear a word about. Yet, you pressed on. 

"You cannot know that. You heard Bruce. I want us to be prepared for anything. And Thor, I am prepared to sacrifice myself if it comes to that. But you know what someone else might do in case I am in danger. You know Loki would rather die than let me get hurt and I want you-, no, to Hell with that-, I need you to swear to me that if it comes to choosing, you choose him. No matter his pleas and threats and wishes. Loki goes home."

You could see the doubts fighting behind his eyes. He was a man too just to take such decisions. But you needed his word.

"Y/N, I cannot-"

"You can and you will. Loki goes home. Swear it to me on Odin's name."

He had no choice. He knew how deep your loyalty to Loki ran, it was pointless to argue with you about that, even without his help, you would do what you set your mind to when it came to his brother.

"Thor," your tone was pleading, with the edge of a warning.

"Fine. I swear Loki has priority."

"On Odin's name?"

"On Odin's name."

The two hours you had to prepare passed in the blink of an eye and there you were, boarding the Quinjet alongside Thor, Tony, Bruce, Nat, and Steve who were joined by Vision and Valkyrie, the two remaining Avengers in the compound who were not gone on missions. You felt immensely grateful to every one of them for their presence. The flight to Sakaar was about to last for a few hours. It was a solemn, silent one. People were cleaning and sharpening knives and weapons, putting on pieces of armour. 

The Asgardian armour that was adorning you was of a matte black, darker than the night itself. It was a gift from Loki after one of your almost-failed missions when you got severely injured. One snake on each of the shoulder blades was circling your forearm, it was a bewitching piece of work. 

You wanted to think some strategies through for you had time to spare. But the only thing that was going through your head was Loki. How you had failed him when you knew he would have saved you from the depths of Hell itself. So you stood in silence. For hours and hours on end, you stood feeling your power burn inside of your system, tarnishing your lungs and squeezing at your heart, making it shrink more and more. It was on you. This time it was all on you. You should have searched for him to the ends of the Nine Realms. 

Thor called your name softly, drawing your attention towards him. He took the empty seat next to you and you knew this was not something you would like by the already apologetic look in his eyes. 

“We know that the people on Sakaar can track you by your magic, therefore Tony came up with an idea that you might not be fond of. On Asgard, we have a certain artefact, much like snuffling cuffs that stop the one wearing them from performing any spells but they also make their magic untraceable.” 

Your eyes fell to his hands, finally noticing the two thick cuffs that he was holding sheepishly. He made a small pause, giving you the chance to protest. You didn’t. You were pondering this, he realized so he went on.

 “I have to put these on you and only I can take them off. I will do it as soon as it is needed, alright?”

 It was for Loki and everyone else’s safety and no matter how much you despised the idea, no matter how incapacitated it made you feel, you gave Thor a short nod. You were a great fighter as well, you had other skills to spare. 

“Fine, but the moment the fight starts, in the possibility they caught up, you uncuff me,” you said, giving Thor access to your wrists. 

What you did not consider was that these cuffs would nullify any drop of magic from your body. Even the illusions you cast on your decaying hands. Thor clasped the metal in place and retracted his hands in shock when the illusions dropped and your scaly fingers were on full display. You pulled your hands to yourself when the God tried to reach for them again. 

“Y/N, what is this?” His voice was barely above a whisper, barely audible to you. “You promised me you would not let this pursuit of yours alter who you are.” He sounded disappointed, and hurt like you knew he would. Thor suspected your inclinations long before anyone else could but you soothed his worries, vowing you had it all under control. You might have failed to keep that vow. 

“It is just an unimportant side effect, I am not hurt and I can hold my own. I did what I had to do.” 

“You did not have to compromise yourself, you could have come to me,” he shook his head incredulously. He failed you and he failed his brother. If Loki knew that he left you to your own self-sabotaging devices for this long, he would be furious. As if his skull was transparent to you, you could see all of these thoughts running through his mind and it made you realize just how much he was also hurting. You did not want to add to that in any way. “Thor, I promise you I am fine. I am still in control of my magic and I did not hurt anyone. You were there for me more than I could ask of you and you were in pain too. No one could blame you for anything.” 

Grasping his hand, he finally tore his eyes away from your fingers. He wanted to say something else when Steve’s voice came loudly for everyone to hear.

 “We touch down in 15 minutes, everyone. Thor, how do we go about our plan?” The God of Thunder stood tall in the middle of the spaceship then, clearing his throat. 

“Tony and Nat drop us near the location that Bruce pointed us to and we go into hiding the second we touch the ground. Y/N’s magic is masked, therefore we should be untraceable if all the attention stays on the Quinjet. You drive the sentinels away from us, far enough so we can get in, retrieve Loki and get out, but not so far that you won’t be able to be back on call. The team on the ground follows my orders, we reach the Arena and we break into the dungeons, making as little fuss as possible. Y/N’s cuffs come off only if necessary and only if we are found. We do not leave without my brother and we do not use any form of magic.” 

“Copy that,” Valkyrie nodded and everyone got into their assigned position. 

The plan seemed to run smoothly, no matter how much your palms were sweating and how hard you wanted to rip those cuffs off. You landed, went into the nearest tunnel and Bruce lead the way as Tony and Nat drew the threats away from all of you, bringing the chase to the sky. It all went well until you reached the Arena.

That whole arena was engulfed by silence, a silence so deafening that it made you want to scream. You had to be senseless not to realise that you had stepped into a trap. They wanted you there and you just walked through the gates and offered them what they wished for. But one should always be careful as a wish could become the most poisonous of nightmares. 

A nightmare in black armour - that is what you were to them. The darkness of your magic was boiling through your veins, the need for vengeance uncontained. 

"Let's split up and look for entrances, this monstrosity has tons of underground levels," Bruce said, kneeling to touch the ground and observe it. 

This place was making you uneasy but you were set on turning it upside down if there was a chance that Loki was kept here. The surface that you all had to cover was vast, filled with obstacles and unnatural roots coming out of the ground. You did not wait for anyone to direct you in a certain direction, you took it into your own hands to advance towards the largest gathering of roots and thorns, using your daggers to cut through them and see what this wall was guarding. 

You felt Thor's presence behind you before he managed to speak. He was following you around, trying to seem casual, when you knew that he was scared. For you, for Loki and because of you. You saw the way he looked at your charcoal-like hands now and then, how his gaze would flick from them to your tired eyes. 

"I am not going mad, Thor. Stop stressing," you insisted, your back turned to him while making your way through the walls of roots. 

Swinging his Asgardian steel sword, he tried to mask his intentions behind a chuckle.

"I am merely joining you, my lady. I did not suggest such a thing."

"Yet your eyes have been saying it for months." You huffed, partially because of the effort you were putting into cutting the roots with your weapons and your bare hands but also because of exasperation. It was going too slow, you were growing nervous and expectant therefore you placed the daggers back into their place and swung a wakandan spear into view.

"Whoa, where did you get that from?" Thor's eyes were wide, surprise reading all over his features as he took a step back. "Is that vibranium?" He approached you slowly, inspecting it with amazement written all over his features. 

"It was a gift from Wakanda, as a sign of gratitude from King T'Challa," you turned your back to your task at hand, finding it much easier this way.

"Oh, excuse me, my Lady. I forgot everyone likes you," Thor's tone came teasingly. You knew what he was doing, trying to ease your nerves and distract you from how much stress was washing over you in waves.

You swiftly turned on your heel to face him, taking the blonde God by surprise and having to duck from his sword that was about to cut through a thick plant.

"Lady Y/N, I could have killed you," he said, picking up the sword that he dropped out of shock.

"Come on, Thor, you couldn't get rid of me so easily," you started walking backwards, rolling your eyes jokingly at the God when you heard him shout at you and pull you towards him.

"Y/N, watch out!"

As you collided with his robust chest, you slowly turned to face two metal doors carved into the ground. You were on the verge of falling through them, had it not been for Thor's intervention. You both stared at the entry and then at one another, a mixture of relief and dread shared between you. 

You found it, found the entrance to the dungeons. As you knelt to touch the cold doors, Thor urged everyone in your direction. Your trembling, cuffed hand was hovering just above the middle of the opening, bracing yourself for what was coming next. Just as your fingers barely traced the outline of an inscription, Bruce's scream came tearing through you like daggers.

"Do not touch it!"

But it was too late. An explosion threw you into the air, far from the doors, making you fall on your back, loud alarms resonating off of every corner of the arena, scratching your brain, the dust rising around you clouding your vision. In an instant, the doors in the ground flew from their place as hundreds of silhouettes were emerging from behind them and from every corner you could spot, running towards you. Blurs of oddly coloured flesh were clouding your vision and the back of your head was pounding aggressively. A sort of urgency washed over you then so you shook your head a few times. You jumped to your feet, still dizzy, spear in hand and screamed for Thor.

"Come here and uncuff me. NOW!"  

It all happened so fast, the fight already raging around you. Steve was shouting instructions while taking down some odd-looking creatures and you had seconds until dozens of them were about to reach you. They were gruesome, horned beasts in semi-human form, with dark green, punctured skin and they looked so familiar. In the haze, you could not place them yet. You threw one look in Thor's direction and saw that he was stuck, fighting some battles of his own so you took your position, spear ready to tear through skin and bone and attacked. 

They kept coming, dozens of these monsters, lurching for you, stretching out their hideous hands to snatch you but you stood your ground, piercing their hearts, slashing their throats while looking around to find that entrance again. With a thud, Thor landed behind you, swung Mjolnir twice and took out every enemy for a one-mile radius. He quickly turned to face you, panting and releasing your hands from their magicless prison with a swish of his hand. The cuffs fell, causing a deaf sound to resonate around the space and in an instant, your veins were on fire. You placed your spear in its holder. You needed no weapon but yourself now. 

"You get him out when I give you the signal. Steve already knows, my magic knows no bounds to its harm," you sternly told Thor and took off, giving him no opportunity to protest.

Wide grins were plastered all over your foes' faces as you unleashed your power. If this makes them so happy, you thought, you were going to be kind enough and give them a small taste. 

You stared at the ground and solely by the expression on your face, one could easily tell that some devious idea flicked through your brain. The corners of your mouth turned upwards, into a grin that overtook all of your features and the moment you placed your hands on the dirty ground again, your eyes lifted. A deadly stare made the blood of each of your enemies freeze for a second, and then you mumbled an incantation and the ground shook itself to pieces. 

It was pure chaos. Holes in the ground were eating these beasts alive, closing over them, burying them into the cement and stone. It was horrifying. You met Thor's eyes for a brief second, and a small flash of terror adorned them but it was gone as fast as it came. Your path was clear now. 

"Go get him!" Thor shouted, holding some more creatures off, fighting back to back with Vision. Your eyes spotted the opening again and you sprinted towards it. A knife came for you from the side and Valkyrie screamed for you to duck, escaping it by millimetres. You were almost there. There were screams all around you but for a moment, everything stilled as you jumped into the opening in the ground, landing on a steel floor.

The hallway that greeted you was warm, dark and neverending. It was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You started running along the corridor, always keeping an eye out for anything that might hurt you from behind, taking your daggers out again, just for good measure. After a few minutes, you finally spotted a weak hue. It made you stop in your tracks. It was coming from under a thick set of metal doors and it was emerald. Loki's magic. He is here. He has to be. Something strange washed over you at that realization, something warm, almost sunny. It felt like your body could suddenly sense him and you were finally registering what all of this meant. He is alive, your love, your lifeline. And you felt scared. For the first time since you stepped on this sinful planet, you were frightened. What if you failed? What if your power was not enough? You would perish and suffer before you would let Loki die once more. He would hate it if you would ever voice such thoughts aloud because you knew he feels the same way. He was ready to meet his demise for you when Thanos came. You were prepared to do the same thing now. 

Placing your hands on the solid metal, you took a breath in then the doors forcibly flew out of place, hitting the walls and ringing when they met the floor. Your knees gave out when your vision adjusted to the darkness.

Loki.

“Oh my God,” your voice shook, the sound of your name whispered in disbelief falling from Loki’s lips just as you exclaimed. You were by his side in a second, throwing yourself on your knees, for he was chained and knelt to the cement, your eyes levelling his hollow ones now. 

“You found me,” he whispered, his eyes watering, his mouth hanging open as he could not believe the sight in front of him. You reached your hand out gingerly, towards his way too sharp cheekbone, tears already spilling from your eyes, silently. Your mouth was dry and you were so scared of touching him in case he was not really there. When your skin met his, he sighed and leaned into your palm. Made for him. You were specifically crafted for him, he thought. He was real. You could not register everything of how fast it was happening. The love of your life was resting on your scarred palm, cold as ever to the touch. After months of praying for this, you finally had him back. Loki opened his eyes again, registering your bewildered expression. 

“I am right here, darling,” he spoke, voice so hoarse it scratched your heart. 

“Oh, my love, I am so sorry,” you wrapped your arms around him in an instant once he spoke, snapping back to reality, trying to be as gentle as possible with his frail form. He leaned into you, still restrained and you distanced yourself from him for a moment, realizing his position.

 “Treasure of my heart, do not apologize for anything. Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he murmured, as your vibranium daggers cut his restraints. The moment he was released, he crawled on his knees, closer to you, pulling you back into his chest. He was shaking. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you ever again.” Reassurances of all sorts were pouring past your lips for you were desperate to bring him any sense of comfort you could muster. And you meant it. You had him now and you would rather suffer pain like no other than ever let anyone touch a hair on his head. 

“You came,” he kept whispering in your hair and your heart was healing and breaking at the same time. “I love you so much, I never thought I’d see you again,” you cried out, your lips caressing the crown of his head as you spoke, cradling him into your arms. Your fingers were gently stroking his hair, as he held on to you with what seemed like all the power he had left. He looked so broken, so hauntingly empty and pale. You could feel his bones poking from under his skin as one of your hands was tracing his back, his ribs sticking out so much that you felt them pressed to your stomach as you were hugging him. But he was here, in your arms. Where he belonged. You let go of him and it took every ounce of will in your system to do so, his hands still on your waist, as yours pressed to his hollow cheeks again. That is when he saw them. Your hands. His whole face dropped and you swore you wanted to crawl into a hole in shame and just vanish.

 “My dear heart, what have you done?” He took your palms in his, bringing them closer to inspect your skin. You wanted to retract them, pulling yourself away a bit. He reinforced his grasp on you and finally looked into your eyes. You expected a couple of things. Terror, dismay, disgust. Nothing of the sort was there. His eyes were pooling with the same devotion and tenderness they always held when he was looking at you, but you could see a tinge of sorrow. For what you had to do.  

“Don’t ever feel like you need to hide yourself from me,” his voice was so soft, hugging you in ways you have yearned for your entire life. He understood. Of course he did. You shook your head and leaned back into him. 

He was barely stable, trying to mask his trembling and winces of pain for your sake but it was a dead giveaway. His eyes were buried deep in their orbits, empty and adorned by violet bags under them and his whole face looked skeletal. 

Do not cry, not in front of him. This is not about you.

You kept telling yourself but to no avail, he was coming undone into your arms despite his best efforts to seem collected and sobs tore your chest cavity to shreds. “Oh, what have they done to you?” The words evaded you before you could stop them and even now, Loki tried to comfort you. “I have been through worse, Skatt. Don’t deem me so weak,” the ghost of a smile rested on his lips but you kept shaking your head. He raised his bony hands, trembling, cupping your face as he rested his forehead on yours, cold sweat rolling down his skin. You closed your eyes, tasting his smell, ravelling under his touch. He caressed your lips with his, catching your sigh in his mouth and you melted into him as you always did. 

Everything that he was became everything that you were for you forgot where his essence ended and yours began. Hasty heartbeats suffocated your chest, you never thought you would touch those lips again. You needed to get out of here now that you had him but letting go of him was the cruellest curse one could place on you.

 “We have to go, baby. Can you stand?” You finally asked, still knelt in front of him and he nodded, trying to push himself up but having his knees give up from under him. You stood up then, wrapping a hand around his waist and lifting him. He tried to place as less weight on you as possible but the moment his arm came behind your shoulder, he fell onto you completely, like a dead weight. 

“I will get us out of here, I promise.” The promise that you made did not manage to get cold on your lips when another voice cut in. 

“You really thought I would let you go so easily, precious Y/N?” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up in terror, hurrying in your steps but Loki was too heavy and you were too slow to try and cast a spell when an odd force pulled you away from your lover and up into the air, making him fall to his knees again.

 “Y/N, no!” He screamed, reaching his hands out for you as he fought so hard to get up and he almost did when a dirty boot collided with his ribs and he was on his palms again. “Get away from him!” You were struggling in the invisible grip, directing a spell at your attacker but nothing came out of your hands. You tried again, this time speaking the incantation into existence, tarnishing in the transparent claws. Still nothing. Panic clouded your mind and you screamed spell after spell but it was in vain. A screeched laugh came out at that and your hands were violently thrown behind your back, tied with a magical cord. You were dangling one foot in the air, your eyes never leaving Loki who was struggling to get to you, crawling on the dirty floor. 

“Release her, now, or I will have your head,” Loki threatened, lurching towards the hidden figure with fury in his eyes but he was thrown back by the same force you were held captive by. That horrific laugh came out anew, but this time, you had a face to associate with it as the creature that hit Loki faded into view. 

“This is entirely too entertaining, your magic won’t work here,” you gasped after hearing his words but most importantly because of his face. His abnormal, punctured, dark green face that you could recognize anywhere. He was in your dream, the tall torturer that burned Loki in that dungeon many months ago. Throwing a quick look around, realization dumped on you harshly, as the dungeon you were in was the same one from that night too. How could it possibly be? With a motion of his hand, the tall man made you move towards him, the strange force pulling you in until he was in your face.

 Loki struggled in the grasps of this magic but to no avail. 

“Truly a bewitching artefact,” the man said, tracing his fingers along your cheek. You turned your head to the side, wishing to get away from his filthy, murderous touch. 

“Get your hands off her, you worthless creature,” Loki roared, wearing the most threatening expression you have seen on him. He was fighting against the restraints and it was draining all the life out of his already feeble body. You were here because of him, stuck, exposed and vulnerable and he was going insane. All of the relief he felt at seeing you had been washed away as if it had never been there. Being tortured for years to come sounded like a way gentler fate to him than having you put in any position of harm. 

“You do not get to make demands, prisoner,” the Sakaarian barked, turning towards him for just a bit, waving his hand so that a thick cloth appeared, covering Loki’s mouth. You were searching your mind for every possible spell that could get you out of here but nothing was happening. Why was your magic not working? 

“Stop trying to wield any magic in here, it is to no avail. You thought I would imprison two highly dangerous sorcerers and not use runes? It is only the magic that I wield that will work in this place.” 

“Let him go and I will give you anything you want,” you jumped straight into bargaining, realizing you had no other choice, Loki’s life being the only thing on your mind. You heard sounds coming from Loki as he tried to protest, vehemently shaking his head. 

“There is nothing you can give me that I won’t take from you anyways, little witch. But I suppose I have no use for him anymore.” That was enough from you. He could take anything away from you if it meant Loki goes free. You instantly nodded and agreed. You heard your God again, struggling and begging you with the look in his eyes to take those words back. 

In a different situation, Loki would muse at the devotion you carried, carved in your veins for him. He would thank fate for this undeserving kindness and be amazed at how much love you could spare for him. But not in here, not like this. He wished that you would abandon him, desert him, hate him. He wished he had never kissed you that first time, that he had never met you if it would guarantee you would not be in this position right now. He did not deserve such love, such fidelity. 

The Sakaarian approached Loki slowly and you started to apologize to your lover. 

“I am so sorry, so sorry. Please leave, run away as fast as you can, Loki please, for me,” but just as you thought it was over, just as the creature dropped Loki from the magical cage and let him fall to the ground, you saw him kick Loki in the stomach and laugh. 

“No, stop!” Your scream resonated off every wall and the monster turned to you, holding Loki up by the hair, a knife conjured and drawn to his throat. 

“I could let him go or I could make this so much funnier for all of us and gift you his head on a spike. So you cannot say I am not merciful, that way you could always look at him when you miss him,” he laughed and you broke. 

“You bastard, get away from him. I beg you, just ask for anything in this world and you will have it. Torture me, take me. I am right here, drown me, skin me alive for all I care but please, please I am begging you, put that knife down,” you were crying, screaming, trying to get on your knees, doing anything in your power to keep Loki alive. He was crying as well now, looking only at you and wishing you would stop. Wishing you would let him go. The Sakaarian dropped Loki and launched himself at you. 

“You do not wish for any of that. You have no idea how much pain I can inflict. How much pain your dear God has suffered at my hands. And I would enjoy for you to see that, I would love to see you watch as I am burning him and whipping him, beating him to a pulp, would you like that of me?” You threw your head forward with incredible force at that and broke his nose. Pools of blood were spilling out as he held his hand to the wound, cursing you. Loki felt a laugh rattling in his chest. A laugh. For the first time in what felt like an eternity. Of course you would not go down without a fight, no matter the form it took. 

 In this madness, you did not notice the green glow that was surrounding Loki. In his time here he learned a couple of things about his torturers and one of them was that they were powerless without someone else’s magic. And the magic that was impregnating this hell was his own. He was drained, broken and ruined but there were no ends to this Universe he wouldn’t go to for you. No efforts he would spare. The moment this monster wrapped his hand around your neck, choking you for your disobedience, Loki exploded. His magic grew brighter and stronger and everywhere you looked, there was destruction. Pure destruction disguised in a green mantle, circling the body of its victim, clutching at it. The torturer was ripped away from you with such force that it seemed like he'd never even been there. Loki brought him to his knees, squeezing the life out of him with his magic. 

“You die by my hands today, you disgusting creature,” a movement of Loki’s hand and the man at his mercy was screaming in anguish, reaching at his throat to try and breathe. “Death is much too kind for what you deserve,” Loki continued as the flesh on the Sakaarian’s back was ripping itself wide open, blood staining his shirt. A dagger appeared in Loki’s hand and in an instant, it penetrated the creature’s chest, straight into his heart as his whole body fell unbreathing on the floor. Loki’s own body gave up on him and his magic dissipated as you caught his form seconds before his knees met the floor.

“Get out of here, Y/N, more of them will come for you now,” he begged desperately, trying to push you away with his hands as frenzy clouded his vision, hoping that would urge you to desert him. You reached for his face, cupping it, making him look you in the eye.

"I am not leaving you, don't fight with me on this. Come on, we have to go," you pulled him up, supported his body weight and threw his hand over your shoulder before he could protest, hurrying out of this Hell and back to the surface. Loki was exhausted though and despite the effort he put in to keep going, he would fall limply and you would have to stop and help him up, encouraging him, whispering words of endearment to him to keep him from giving up.  

"Brother!" Thor's voice came thunderously the second you set foot back into the arena. In an instant, he was at your side, taking his brother's weight off of you and crushing him into a hug.

"Ouch!" Loki exclaimed, his injuries still so fresh but he hugged Thor back. "I've missed you too brother but you are crushing me," Loki's muffled voice came from Thor's chest and the older Asgardian released his hold, still supporting Loki who, even now, was stubborn enough to insist that he could stand on his own. Chaos was raging and unleashing itself in waves all around you hence your brain kicking into action.

"Where are Tony and Nat? We need to get out of here." 

Throwing Mjolnir towards the nearest targets approaching the three of you, Thor spoke fast, "They ran into an inconvenience. It appears an airstrike is keeping them away. Until they reach us, we have to keep resisting."

"Fine, I will secure this area while you keep Loki safe," you instructed. You could see how much Loki hated this idea by how his face contorted the instant you muttered the words.

"Stop patronising me, love. I can still fight," Loki countered, rolling his eyes in displeasure.

"I know you can, big boy," you winked but your face told him your decision was final as you instantly took off heading straight towards the most crowded part of the arena. 

"Guess we're stuck on the sidelines, brother," Thor shrugged and placed himself in front of Loki, keeping any unwanted guests away. 

"Are you a fool? We have to go there and fight," Loki frantically pointed his hands towards the middle of the arena where enemies were pouring out like water from every crack in the wall, suffocating the remaining team.

"Your lady will have my head if I endanger you in any way. She is right, you know? You are in no condition to fight, Loki, and I will not risk it for your ego. I barely got you back. She barely got you back."

Loki would not stand for this. You were battling more than a dozen enemies at once, the entire team was carrying fights around him as he was incapacitated and obligated to stay and watch. It will not do. Turning around to eliminate some approaching targets, Thor's attention was diverted from the youngest prince who saw this as a prospect to help. Some Sakaarians were rapidly emerging from the side as the God of Mischief tried to conjure whatever magic he had left but to no avail, he was completely drained. He could not even conjure his precious daggers, no matter his efforts. Ever the sneakiest person in the room, he managed to get to Thor without being noticed, stealing a blade his brother was carrying in the back of his belt. It had to be enough for now. With crippled steps, he advanced towards the closest creature drawing blood.

On your side of the arena, things were running smoother. Your power was ecstatic, finally being let out. A powerful blast coming from the side destabilised you and you were thrown straight through the doors in the floor, falling on your back into the tunnels. Enough with the games.

You dusted yourself off and a criminal hunger whispered in your ear. You were going to devour them. Bit by bit. For what they did to Loki. For laying even a single finger on him or throwing him a single look. You ascended the tunnels up the stairs with a different glow. A darker one that covered you like a widow's veil. Because that is how you felt for 11 months. Like a vengeful, ruined widow. No price you will make them pay will be ransom enough. You emerged back into the arena, blood dripping from your brow and even the dust appeared frightened by you, parting like the sea, letting you come through. There was a fury and determination in your eyes that made your enemies squeak. You heard their bones tremble in their bodies for the darkness and despair of the night were your allies. Your ebony magic was hugging your form, hair wild, eyes feral.

Untouchable. Eternal. Infinite. 

Loki watched you in awe while everyone else was looking at you with fear in their eyes. Even your friends. But not Loki. Never your Loki. Even now when you appeared to have surrendered your light to other forces, he still believed in the good in you. After all this time, there were moments like this when you could not fully comprehend the love he carried for you. You could not have asked for it in your wildest, most courageous of dreams. 

You would not tolerate it. Any more seconds of abuse, any foreign hands scarring him with immeasurable cruelty. Loki was your soul, he was your entire galaxy. You would not stand him falling into despair again. His suffering was a curse so much more wicked than any hurt that might be inflicted on you. You could take them hurting you. You couldn’t take even the passing thought of him being endangered in any way. The scars on his pale skin were in stark contrast to his frail form. Oh, how you wished you could kiss away every burn and every wound, how you wished you could show him a kinder fate. But the past was unforgiving, unmendable. You had the future still. And you were ready to give your future up for his. 

You needed no bolt, no push. It was a natural decision. An instinct rooted into your entire being. It felt like something ancient inside your system snapped, a peculiar need to keep him safe. So you nodded at Thor and his eyes went wide. With sadness and disagreement. He followed your instructions anyway, pulling Loki off the ground and disappearing in such a rush, up into the sky that your lover didn’t get the chance to register what was happening until it was too late. Good. You knew he would die protecting you. He almost did so once. It was your turn. 

Once every one of your friends deserted the arena, you ignited a spark within yourself. It came with a burn that made you want to vomit, a dark, primitive force surged through you, replacing your blood, leaking out of your skin in spiralling shadows hugging at your form. Your magic was pouring out of you through every patch of skin, a shade of black darker than your armour, more fearsome than the night clothing you. Seeing you alone in the field, your enemies achieved a false sense of security. They increased their use of magic. No matter. You could handle them. Blasts of power were flying from your hands when four leash-like strings of maroon magic grasped your ankles and your wrists. They were restraining you. The contact made you twist and turn, your veins almost giving up under the pressure of your own power trying to escape. A scream cut through you but it was shortly muffled by another whip of magic circling itself around your mouth and neck. You could not move for a few seconds and in the heat of the moment, your enemies smirked at your defeat, struggling to keep the magic in place, using these leashes to lift you off the ground. You suffocated for a second, your vision becoming blurry as the restraints were burning and squeezing so tight, you felt life drip out of you. 

Your eyes fluttered close for a small moment and as you felt your body give up, a glimpse of Loki flashed before you. It was just a passing image of his face but it was everything you needed. You remembered why you were here, you remembered how close to him you were and how close your happy ending was. The mere thought of Loki made darkness explode out of you. You would be damned before you would let anyone tear you from him once more. There were shadows all around you, taking a human-like form, advancing on your capturers and in an instant, the scarlet magic that was keeping you, prisoner, dissipated. You remained floating in the air, a few feet above those monsters and a smirk so dark and wicked overtook your features. 

“Watch it!” You warned the creature to your right, the one that was previously conjuring the magic that was silencing you. Two clawed shadow demons you produced jumped on him from the back and you squeezed your right hand in his direction, watching as his eyes were blown out of his orbits the harder you squeezed. With your other hand, the other four Sakaarians were lifted off the ground and as your fingers meet your palm in another squeeze, they were suffocating and losing their sight, blood pouring down on their cheeks, terrified screams and pleads ringing in your ears like a melody. Good. Their screams were music to your ears.

The shadows that exploded out of you were taking different forms of various disasters, wolves skinning some creatures alive, waves of darkness drowning others. It was pure terror. It was consuming you. The voices in your head were so loud, their whispers so hoarse and untamed as you unleashed the worst of yourself onto them. For Loki. Everything you ever did was for Loki. Your magic was hungry, it was vicious. It coated the entire arena, terrorizing every single living thing that was meant to harm you. And you stood above them all, floating in the air, with your hands as dark as nightmares and your eyes as hollow as a shell. Your power was only ever increasing but your body was slowly giving up on you.

As your enemies turned to ashes and you fell to the ground to your knees, you felt a warm breeze overtake you. Something familiar and comfortable wrapped itself around your waist and your body was met with heat as it got teleported somewhere else. 

“Please, my love, please look at me,” your head was cradled between two big palms and the voices all around you were ecstatic, accusatory, worried. One rich tone stood out to you in particular. The one that was begging you to wake up. The one that belonged to Loki. The moment your eyes fluttered right open, you were met with your lover’s chest, Loki bringing you close to him so swiftly you melted into his tired arms. His chest started shaking immediately and you heard his sobs resonate all around you before you departed from him just enough to meet his gaze. You were both knelt on the metal floor of the Quinjet and his hands were on each side of your face, holding you a bit harder than necessary. Tears were pouring out of Loki’s eyes like midnight rain, warm and unstoppable and you did not realize you were shedding some tears of your own. 

“You stupid girl,” he cried, placing a sloppy and wet kiss straight on your lips, while still holding your face. You laughed. It felt surreal. You were speechless, a trembling mess while he was ecstatic, terrified, shaking his head, sniffling, kissing you and berating you and adoring you at the same time. 

“Why did you do that?” Kiss. “You could have died.” Kiss. “My wonderful, silly girl.” Another kiss. His tears were mixing with yours, your lips wet and hot and hungry for him. You took his face into your palms and pressed your lips to his again. Longer than before. With more yearning than before. 

“I’ve got you, I finally got you,” you muttered more to yourself than to anyone else as you were both crying on the floor, in each other’s arms. And then he did something that made you burst into more violent sobs. He kissed your hands. Your stained hands that made everyone around you recoil, he held them and kissed each knuckle with adoration. 

As he pressed his lips to the last one of your knuckles he whispered lovingly, “You have always been my salvation, Y/N.”  

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I am finally back. This is my longest piece yet, with 12k words but I hope you enjoyed it. Every comment and opinion matters to my process, thank you for being here. You have all my love. Enjoy!

[kurosakijane-blog]

It seemed as if these deserted streets were always so quiet. The clouds were thickening, and a light breeze caused trembling in the body.

Shiver? In June?

Grinning, V stopped. His health is deteriorating every minute and this is the least of his troubles. If this continues, he simply won’t have time. It was not enough to fall when the goal was just a stone's throw away!

"It seems the path is clear, V." Griffon made a circle and landed on a telephone booth, a couple of meters from the next alley, "take a three-minute break and move on, you look paler than usual."

“Let’s go further…” the dark-haired man wanted to object, but a sudden pain in his legs made him stumble. Fortunately, he was not destined to fall - thanks to the cane and the suddenly flying bird.

"Damn you, V! Three minutes!"

Leaning his shoulder on the cool door of the booth, the guy exhaled noisily. The rustling of leaves and the quiet growl of the Shadow calmed, the eyelids filled with lead. How long has he been awake?

Weakness takes its toll, V's eyes close, allowing him to relax a little. One thought is replaced by another, the memory draws landscapes, images, and if the streets are filled with silence, the noise in the head does not subside for a second. Suddenly, amidst this chaos, the guy hears soft laughter. Quickly opening his eyes, V sharply turns around and peers into the empty houses and alleys.

No one.

"What's the matter?" Griffon grunts dissatisfied, following the owner’s gaze. But he ignored any questions. “Hey, V!”

The door of the telephone booth gives in under the pressure of the man's weakened fingers and opens with a barely audible creak. A small bell rings quietly, echoing in the middle of a deserted street. The coin falls into the slot with a clink, and his fingers quickly type in the numbers.

The beeps last forever for him.

"Hello?" sounds at the other end of the line and the guy’s heart starts beating faster. His lips spread into a gentle smile. Your laughter has always been a song for him, helping him to walk towards the light at the end of the darkest tunnel in his life. Your voice was the medicine for his crumbling body and broken soul. Was everything to him.

The world ceased to exist for him at that moment, leaving only this small telephone booth, whose peeling paint once again reminded him that nothing lasts forever. V exhales into the phone with relief, gently whispering your name. But he couldn’t squeeze out another word, and he had something to say. Your last meeting left a very big wound on your hearts, and your tear-stained face still flashes before his eyes.

To some extent, he was glad that everything turned out this way. “Everything that isn’t done is for the better,” right? The situation with Urizen helped V understand his mistakes, rethink his actions and decide for himself what would be the right thing to do. You…didn't share his opinion. You were angry. His life was much more important to you than the whole world. However…V left.

"V?" - you whisper in hope, but there is no answer. You sniffle quietly and exhale raggedly. “She’s crying,” the man thinks, closing his eyes with regret.

“Anger is a normal feeling,” you once said, “The main thing is to be able to forgive and remember that you are not alone. Now I am with you.”

Your words echo in his ears. Only now, in addition to warmth, the man felt something prickly and burning in his soul.

Guilt.

The Griffon taps his claws on the glass, reminding him of his presence. Time to go.

“Promise that you’ll come back to me, please…” you beg, pressing the phone harder to your cheek.

Long fingers squeeze the cane tighter, your gentle touches emerge in his memory. God, he would give anything for you to touch his cheeks with both hands one more time, to run your fingertips over them. He would give anything for this now…

"I promise." he blurts out in anger and immediately hangs up. He really wants to come back. To hold you close to him again, breathe in the alluring scent of your hair and reject the world that once rejected him.

The man's heart sank painfully. Not only from the realization that he will never feel your love again. He lied to you and it was destroying him, it seemed, much more than his curse.

The safety of the world, YOUR safety, depends on the outcome of this day.

The phone booth bell rang again, sobering V’s consciousness, cutting him off from the past. The cane hit the stone path with a dull thud, and a quiet growl was heard very close by. Shadow touched its owner's hand with its wet nose, lightly rubbed its muzzle against his palm, and then gently pushed its head into his back, urging him to move on. Your smiling face stood before V’s eyes so clearly that any doubts in his head immediately dissipated. Despite his illness, his steps became more confident. Now he is ready to go to the end.

His choice was made.

[dollypartonswig]

My top 10 books of the year!

1 ) The Nothing Man - Catherine Ryan Howard -

At the age of twelve, Eve Black was the only member of her family to survive an encounter with serial attacker the Nothing Man. Now an adult, she is obsessed with identifying the man who destroyed her life. Supermarket security guard Jim Doyle has just started reading The Nothing Man--the true-crime memoir Eve has written about her efforts to track down her family's killer. As he turns each page, his rage grows. Because Jim's not just interested in reading about the Nothing Man. He is the Nothing Man. Jim soon beings to realize how dangerously close Eve is getting to the truth. He knows she won't give up until she finds him. He has no choice but to stop her first.

2 ) The Night Ship - Jess Kidd -

1629: A newly orphaned young girl named Mayken is bound for the Dutch East Indies on the Batavia , one of the greatest ships of the Dutch Golden Age. Curious and mischievous, Mayken spends the long journey going on misadventures above and below the deck, searching for a mythical monster. But the true monsters might be closer than she thinks. 1989: A lonely boy named Gil is sent to live off the coast of Western Australia among the seasonal fishing community where his late mother once resided. There, on the tiny reef-shrouded island, he discovers the story of an infamous shipwreck…

3) The Reading List - Sara Nisha Adams -

Widower Mukesh lives a quiet life in the London Borough of Ealing after losing his beloved wife. He shops every Wednesday, goes to Temple, and worries about his granddaughter, Priya, who hides in her room reading while he spends his evenings watching nature documentaries. Aleisha is a bright but anxious teenager working at the local library for the summer when she discovers a crumpled-up piece of paper in the back of To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s a list of novels that she’s never heard of before. Intrigued, and a little bored with her slow job at the checkout desk, she impulsively decides to read every book on the list, one after the other. As each story gives up its magic, the books transport Aleisha from the painful realities she’s facing at home. When Mukesh arrives at the library, desperate to forge a connection with his bookworm granddaughter, Aleisha passes along the reading list… hoping that it will be a lifeline for him too. Slowly, the shared books create a connection between two lonely souls, as fiction helps them escape their grief and everyday troubles and find joy again.

4) Midnight Is The Darkest Hour - Ashley Winstead -

Ruth Collier has always felt like an outsider, even as her father rains fire and brimstone from the church pulpit. In Bottom Springs, his word is as good as law. But there are things the townspeople fear more than God, like the Low Man, a vampiric figure said to kill sinners in their beds on moonless nights. When a skull is found deep in the swamp, a hunt for the Low Man begins. Suspicion turns to Everett – Ruth's oldest friend, with a dark past. As Ruth and Everett grow closer, Ruth begins to unearth the town's secrets, determined to discover the truth. But as the line between good and evil grows ever thin, how far will Ruth go to save the person she loves most?

5) The Appeal - Janice Hallett -

The Fairway Players, a local theatre group, is in the midst of rehearsals when tragedy strikes the family of director Martin Hayward and his wife Helen, the play’s star. Their young granddaughter has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, and with an experimental treatment costing a tremendous sum, their castmates rally to raise the money to give her a chance at survival. But not everybody is convinced of the experimental treatment’s efficacy—or of the good intentions of those involved. As tension grows within the community, things come to a shocking head at the explosive dress rehearsal. The next day, a dead body is found, and soon, an arrest is made. In the run-up to the trial, two young lawyers sift through the material—emails, messages, letters—with a growing suspicion that the killer may be hiding in plain sight. The evidence is all there, between the lines, waiting to be uncovered.

6) My Sister, The Serial Killer - Oyinkan Braithwaite -

When Korede's dinner is interrupted one night by a distress call from her sister, Ayoola, she knows what's expected of her: bleach, rubber gloves, nerves of steel and a strong stomach. This'll be the third boyfriend Ayoola's dispatched in, quote, self-defence and the third mess that her lethal little sibling has left Korede to clear away. She should probably go to the police for the good of the menfolk of Nigeria, but she loves her sister and, as they say, family always comes first. Until, that is, Ayoola starts dating the doctor where Korede works as a nurse. Korede's long been in love with him, and isn't prepared to see him wind up with a knife in his back: but to save one would mean sacrificing the other...

7) Outlawed - Anna North -

The day of her wedding, 17 year old Ada's life looks good; she loves her husband, and she loves working as an apprentice to her mother, a respected midwife. But after a year of marriage and no pregnancy, in a town where barren women are routinely hanged as witches, her survival depends on leaving behind everything she knows. She joins up with the notorious Hole in the Wall Gang, a band of outlaws led by a preacher-turned-robber known to all as the Kid. Charismatic, grandiose, and mercurial, the Kid is determined to create a safe haven for outcast women. But to make this dream a reality, the Gang hatches a treacherous plan that may get them all killed. And Ada must decide whether she's willing to risk her life for the possibility of a new kind of future for them all.

8) Madhouse At The End Of The Earth - Julian Sancton -

The harrowing true survival story of an early polar expedition that went terribly awry--with the ship frozen in ice and the crew trapped inside for the entire sunless, Antarctic winter. Drawing on firsthand accounts of the Belgica's voyage and exclusive access to the ship's logbook, Sancton tells the tale of its long, isolated imprisonment on the ice--a story that NASA studies today in its research on isolation for missions to Mars. In vivid, hair-raising prose, Sancton recounts the myriad forces that drove these men right up to and over the brink of madness.

9) Morbidly Yours - Ivy Fairbanks -

Callum Flannelly would rather dive into an open grave than take a stranger to dinner and a movie. But he can only inherit the family undertaking business and carry on their legacy under one condition: He must marry before his 35th birthday. So it’s out of the mortuary and into the dating scene. Lark Thompson would rather get crushed by a falling anvil than stay next to a funeral home during her stay in Galway, Ireland. The vivacious American cartoon creator and animator came here to embrace life, not be reminded of losing her husband. When Lark learns of Callum’s dilemma and aversion to marrying out of necessity rather than love, she agrees to help the introverted mortician. Although sworn off love herself, she is optimistic that Callum can find The One and secure his inheritance. But as the dating project progresses and their friendship grows, so does a mutual attraction. The more time she spends with serious, sarcastic Callum, the more she dreads finding him a match. And the more disastrous dates he endures, the more he dreads Lark’s imminent return to the states. If they think it’s possible to ignore their connection, they’re dead wrong.

10) Bunny - Mona Awad -

Samantha Heather Mackey couldn't be more of an outsider in her small, highly selective MFA program at New England's Warren University. A scholarship student who prefers the company of her dark imagination to that of most people, she is utterly repelled by the rest of her fiction writing cohort--a clique of unbearably twee rich girls who call each other Bunny, and seem to move and speak as one. But everything changes when Samantha receives an invitation to the Bunnies' fabled Smut Salon, and finds herself inexplicably drawn to their front door--ditching her only friend, Ava, in the process. As Samantha plunges deeper and deeper into the Bunnies' sinister yet saccharine world, beginning to take part in the ritualistic off-campus Workshop where they conjure their monstrous creations, the edges of reality begin to blur. Soon, her friendships with Ava and the Bunnies will be brought into deadly collision.