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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years ago

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Darkest Secrets

Requested by @mcmorgan9794

Summary: Keeping this secret from Wanda has been hard, but you don't have a choice but to come clean when everything is brought to light.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,446

You’d always wanted to tell Wanda your deepest, darkest secret. You had been with her for well over a year, after all. A secret like the one you harboured wasn’t something that you should keep from someone you loved so dearly. But your secret was the ugliest part of yourself. It was something you hated, lurking deep within every inch of your body. It brewed in your blood and rested in your bones, uncontrolled at the best of times and unstoppable at the worst. It was a burden you’d never wanted to place upon the girl you loved.

Yet, keeping it from her hurt too. She’d look at you with those soft green eyes, spilling everything to you. Tears would stream down her cheeks as she’d tell you all about how much she hated the powers she’d been given. You’d hold her close and whisper soft words of comfort, wiping her tears away with the pad of your thumb, refusing to tell her you felt the same about your own. She would tell you everything. You wouldn’t tell her anything. You couldn’t tell her anything. She thought she was a monster. In reality, you were the monster. If she knew that, her heart would shatter.

Sometimes, these facts were all you could think about. It was the quiet moments. Wanda was away getting coffee with Natasha, Tony and Bruce were in the lab, Thor was on Asgard, and Clint was home with his family. You were left alone at the compound. You hardly ventured out of your own room. While silence screamed in the dark room, you tried to distract yourself with a book or a movie, but it didn’t last. Instead, the weight of your secret was crushing the oxygen out of your lungs. It always did. You longed to have Wanda back, to have her by your side and thread your fingers through hers. She didn’t know how agonizing solitude could be.

You curled up in your armchair, pulling your knees up to your chest and curling your arms around them. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could will the overwhelming thoughts out of your head. They were screaming at you. They were reminding you of the monster that lay dormant in your very soul, cackling as they pushed images of what you were capable of. Then you imagined Wanda. You could do her so much harm and she didn’t even know it. Were you putting her in danger every day you lay by her side? You swallowed as you tried to force back the tears.

The dark thoughts came next. They always did. You wondered how much better off the world would be without you. You wondered how much better off she would be without you. She loved you. Losing you would break her heart, but she’d be okay eventually. If you hurt her in the way only you knew you were capable of, you knew she would never be okay again. None of them would. The dam broke and tears spilled down your cheeks. Hurting Wanda Maximoff would kill you.

And as you were about to imagine all the ways you could take yourself and your monster out of this world, your phone rang.

You grabbed the phone off the table, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a steadying breath before you even dared look down at the screen. The first thing you noticed wasn’t the person who was calling, but the time. It hadn’t felt like it had been as long as it had since the other had left you alone in the compound. The darkness in your head could do that. You lost track of time often when you reached that place. An hour could pass, then two, and then six.

It was Natasha’s face that was flashing on your screen. Worry filled your gut. Was Wanda okay? She had to be okay. You forced a deep breath in, and then out. Her phone had probably died. The Sokovian was notorious for remembering to plug the charger into her phone, but forgetting to plug it into the wall on the other end. After reminding yourself of that a few times, you finally found the ability to slide the answer button and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Hey.”

“Thank god,” Natasha’s voice said. There was a loud screech in the background, the sound of metal grinding against metal. “Listen you need to get to the hospital.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Oxygen caught in your throat and you were barely able to let words squeeze past the lump that had formed. “The hospital?”

“The ambulance is almost there. She’s hurt bad. Don’t come anywhere near Midtown.”

You didn’t even bother to respond. In fact, you didn’t even bother to hang up the phone. You simply slammed it down on the table that you’d only just picked it up from, heading for the elevator. A million thoughts were racing through your head. There were so many emotions tugging at your heart that you could hardly decipher one from the next. Fear, anger, and worry were all fighting to take over every one of your senses. You couldn’t breathe. It was as if on autopilot that you made it to the garage and hotwired one of Tony’s cars.

Scenery was flashing by you, mere streaks outside the windows of the car. The pedal was on the floor beneath your foot. You flexed your fingers; knuckles having gone white with the force of your grip on the steering wheel. Your brain was showing you visuals of Wanda lying on the table, shining green eyes dulled in the absence of life. Head too wrapped up in the thoughts that ran through it, you didn’t realize you weren’t headed for the hospital at all. You were headed toward midtown, exactly where Natasha had told you not to go.

You’d never been an Avenger. You would never be an Avenger. Maybe it was selfish, refusing to help others when you had the ability to. People died and you might have been able to stop it. Your own powers scared you too much to allow you to. It was something you’d decided long ago. The lives of every civilian that you could have saved were worth it. You couldn’t unleash that sinister thing that lived inside you. Yet, here you were, rushing toward the fight like you were Tony Stark in his suit of armour, or Steve Rogers with a vibranium shield strapped to your back.

The car screeched as you slammed your foot down on the brake. The seatbelt dug so hard into your ribs that you weren’t sure a few hadn’t snapped beneath the pressure. The adrenaline pumping through your veins assured you wouldn’t feel it even if they did. You fought to keep your breathing under control as you stepped out of the car and took in the destruction around you. Someone here had hurt Wanda, and, honestly, you couldn’t find it in you to care which one it had been. You’d kill every single one.

Gravel and rubble crunched beneath your feet as you ventured further and further into the warzone that had broken out in Midtown New York. They looked human, whoever they were. They were armed to the teeth and attacking every moving thing in sight. None of them had noticed you yet. That was better for both of you, for the time being. You shut your eyes for a brief moment and listen to the sounds around you. Civilians were screaming and car alarms were blaring and explosions roared. Then there was running, and it stopped at your side.

“I told you not to come here. Wanda’s at the hospital.”

You opened your eyes. Natasha was at your side. Blood trickled down her temple, staining her pale skin. She flinched as she put weight on her left leg to move a little closer to you. Wanda might have been the woman you called your own, but the Avengers were your family. Seeing one of them hurting in the way Natasha was only stoked the fire that was beginning to burn hotter and hotter inside of you. Your gaze moved away from her and back to the oncoming forces. They were getting closer.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Tony’s cars have trackers. We got an alert the second you left the compound and another as you came here. Get to the hospital.”

But you’d already stopped listening. The incoming threat had gotten close enough to notice you now. Green eyes followed your gaze until she, too, noticed the men approaching the two of you. She raised her arm, the gun still clutched tight in her grip. You could tell by the bewildered expression on her face that she hadn’t at all been expecting you to stop her. Your hand grabbed her wrist, lowering her arm until it was back against her side. You suspected it was the crimson gleam in your eyes that was the only thing that was keeping her weapon lowered.

You turned back to her once more. Surprise was written across every feature on her face… no, it was fear. She was afraid. She should be scared of you. Your skin began to blacken as you began to fade into nothing. Her eyes were still able to find yours, glowing bright as ever. She flinched when you reached out, backing up as you reached for her hand in an attempt for a final goodbye. You bowed your head, wishing she’d let you feel the warmth of her skin beneath your hand one final time.

“I’m sorry, Natasha.”

Then you turned away from her. The last of your human form faded away. It was hard to make out any shape in the tall, dark shadow that you’d become. Haunting golden eyes cast to the men that were racing toward you. As if to match the scene, a dark cloud rolled in front of the sun. Its shadow cast down onto the city, the darkness concealing you even further and making your eyes glow seemingly brighter. They continued to approach. They didn’t know their mistake. You did. You were dangerous at any time. You were more dangerous now that they’d hurt the person you loved more than you had ever loved before.

You raised your arms into the sky, feet leaving the ground. When your feet had been touching the concrete below them, you’d already been towering over the oncoming men. Now, you looked down upon them. Guns raised to where you hovered in the sky. It was almost comical. One of them screamed, and suddenly they were all firing. Their bullets tore through you, yet they didn’t touch you. Your head tilted to the side ever so slightly as an unsettling grin appeared in your dark shadow, disrupted by the whiz of dozens of bullets flying through it.

“Knock knock,” you said. Even your voice was sinister, a deep rumble that felt like it emanated from every direction, or deep inside of any listener.

The laughter that burst from their chests was strange, at first. It seemed out of place in such a setting. Confusion flickered across each of their faces. Then they laughed harder, and harder. Guns fell to the ground and they howled with laughter, but it contrasted their eyes. There was no sparkle of amusement in even one. It was pure, unbridled fear that you could see shining in them. One by one they fell to their knees, clawing at their throats as they tried to stop. One had tears streaming down his cheeks as he covered his ears, trying to block out the sounds that were torn from his own throat.

They couldn’t get in their comms to tell their men to keep away.

The next group that came for you met the same fate. Soon they, too, were on the ground. You got some sort of sick satisfaction as you watched them fall, unable to control their bodies. You’d taken over, grabbing hold of their heads and their bodies. You’d grabbed onto their lungs and ripped laughter from their chests, absolutely uncontrollable. When they lost control of that, that was when the fear started to take over. Fear would grip at them; you could feel it emanating off them. It would only get worse. You’d watched men take their lives as they lost their minds.

There was a reason you never used your powers. You were afraid of them, sure. The reason you were afraid of them, however, wasn’t because of their strength. Their strength could have saved lives. It wasn’t even because you couldn’t control them. You were addicted to your own powers. You took pride in watching grown men reduced to tears, curled up on the ground, shaking like an abused puppy. Your sick satisfaction was what you feared.

Was this what it felt like to be an Avenger? Were you taking pride in watching the civilians able to run from the scene, or was your pride in the fact that they no longer feared the invading forces, but you instead? The men were rendered immobile as the New Yorkers ran far from the scene. There you were in the centre of it, arms outstretched eyes gleaming, and grin growing wider and ever more evil. Natasha was still hovering just outside of your reach. You could feel her. You turned to face her. You could tell by the look in her eyes that she no longer recognized you. She put her lips to her comm.

“Evacuate the area. Don’t come down this way. Clint, go check on Wanda.”

Wanda.

Your powers ceased. No one rose right away. It would take some time for them to recover. They were gasping for breath. Their arms were too preoccupied hugging themselves tight to bother even trying to wipe the tears that covered many of their faces. Some of them were even rocking back and forth as the effect wore off. You dropped to the ground, human form taking back over. Your eyes were back to normal as you looked to Natasha once more. Neither of you said anything, but you took off running.

You pulled your hood up further, gaze locked to your black running shoes. You couldn’t help but feel like every set of eyes was on you. That’s how it felt, you supposed, being wanted by every agency on the planet. With the ability to change your form, though, it was pretty easy to hide in plain sight. Your footsteps echoed on the hard floor beneath your feet as you kept forward. Anyone who saw you would know you were on a mission. You knew exactly where you were going.

She was sleeping when you arrived. The cuts on her body had been stitched and bandaged, and her broken arm had been cast. Sam’s signature was already present on the red material, accompanied by a bad drawing of a bird. You couldn’t help but smile a little to yourself at that. Hopefully, it had kept a smile on her face as her world fell into turmoil, something undoubtedly caused by you. That simple fact would always break your heart. You had to turn to the window to keep the tears at bay.

When you turned back to Wanda, her green eyes were on you. There was something in her eyes that you couldn’t quite read. Her head tilted to the side as she looked at you, in a form that would be unrecognizable. It wasn’t just hiding you from the authorities, but it was hiding you from her. It was protecting her from you. She didn’t need to know that it was you, the woman who had never for a single second deserved to love her or be loved by her. A small smile grew on her lips.

“You forget I can read minds, my love.”

Of course. Wanda had always promised you she’d never read your mind. She would never violate your privacy like that. Right now, though, standing in her hospital room, you hadn’t been you. Obviously, she’d found it appropriate to peek into the mind of the stranger who had been watching her sleep. You should have been mortified. You’d never wanted her to know that you were here. Instead, a large part of you was relieved.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” she breathed out. “So, that was quite the secret.”

Even though you deserved it, it still felt like a knife to the heart when she said it aloud. You nodded slowly, cracking your knuckles nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

You studied her face. Wanda really was a saint, with powers like the ones she had. She was kind, thoughtful, and respectful. You were sure if you’d had her powers right then, you’d be digging through her mind trying to find out what she was thinking. Her eyes weren’t showing you enough. They were calm, though, and it was keeping you calm. Your breathing was level and your head was steady on your shoulders, something you wouldn’t have had been able to say only five short minutes ago.

“Are you afraid?” You managed.

“No,” she assured instantly. “Confused. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You breathed out slowly. “I didn’t want to hurt you. My powers? They’ll hurt you.”

“Will you hurt me?”

“Never!” You insisted. “I… I only hurt them because they hurt you.”

She smiled. “Then I’m not afraid.”

She beckoned you. You padded slowly toward the bed, watching as she stared up at you with an amount of love and adoration that you didn't deserve. Wanda glanced at the door, making sure no one was there to see, and then took your hand in hers, tugging on it to get you to sit down next to her. Instant calm washed over you, drowning out any negative, scared thoughts that had been in your head for days previous. It was like her hand was a lifeline, keeping you anchored on the spot. In the last few days, you’d been anything but calm and present.

You’d been a wreck without her, not knowing if she’d hate you… if you even saw her again. You didn’t know if you’d be able to feel her touch again, to feel her hands on your cheeks or to feel her grab onto you and pull you into a searing kiss the way she did. But you had seen her again, and, somehow, she didn’t hate you. Now, it seemed now you could get oxygen flowing through your body again. Still, you were uncertain.

“And can you forgive me?” You asked, voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it. “Can you ever love me again?”

Wanda took her free hand and put it on the underside of your chin, tilting your gaze up to hers. “I see nothing that has to be forgiven.” She brushed her thumb across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I love you. I will never, ever stop loving you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise you,” she assured.

She leaned forward and then her lips were on yours. It took you a second to realize the salty taste was from the tears that were streaming down your cheeks, but it didn’t seem to be bothering the Sokovian. Both of your hands found hers and you held tight, as if afraid you’d never see her again if you dared to let go. She slipped one hand out of yours as she pulled back, using it to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” you muttered.

“I’m sorry you were so scared all alone.”

Your heart swelled. You really had found the perfect woman. “You’re really too good to me. You know that?”

Wanda laughed. “You deserve the world. You know that?”

With the way you tucked yourself against her in a hug, it was obvious she knew you felt the same of her. Her hand stroked your hair as you finally, for the first time ever, felt absolute ease and a sense of peace. Hiding that secret from Wanda had been the second hardest thing you’d ever done. The hardest had been coming clean with it. You snuggled a little closer to her, burying your head into the crook of her neck and mumbling against her skin.

“I’ll never hide anything from you again. I promise.”

Wanda pulled you away so she could look at you. “While we’re revealing secrets, I suppose I should tell you about the engagement ring in my jacket pocket.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda x reader #marvel #mcu #lesbian #wlw

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becomingbts · 4 years ago

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Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the burning spotlights and the applause and the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

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Warnings: The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway.

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there.

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there.

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me?

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word.

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting.

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen:

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button.

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head.

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content.

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day.

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.”

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them.

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here?

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal.

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything.

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert.

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

Taglist: @sweetmoonlight9, @mickmoon, @dreamer95, @loveyoongles, @spicetouched , @jikooksgirl19, @summerevelyn , @springjade , @clevercoley, @prooteus, @sehun096rainbow, @ainsle-e, @ifyouareme, @sunshinee0-0, @fangirl125reader, @sea-nevermind-enthusiast, @atlantis-atlas, @thequeen-kat, @naajix, @skyys-universe , @sichajeon , @yukiehyukie, @amxranthinesworld , @bunzom, @potate-oh, @mawwnsterr, @ celaenaelentiyavox, @dvoz-writes , @honeybaby-94 ,

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warmblanketwhump · 4 years ago

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unexpected (villain x sidekick)

inspired by this incredible prompt from @ive-got-whumperflies

“Target has been captured and is en route.”

Villain couldn’t help the smile that crept into their cheeks. Finally, finally, they’d be another step closer to taking down Hero. Get to their beloved Sidekick, rough them up a bit, and get all the intel they needed. They might even be able to lure Hero to their headquarters for a futile rescue attempt - oh, it was just too much to hope for.

“Target has arrived,” the muffled voice said over the comms system.

“Bring them up. I want to say a few words before sending them down.” Over the years, Villain had realized that there was nothing quite as wonderful as holding all the cards and seeing someone's face when they realized it.

The door buzzed, and a body was roughly shoved through the door and fell to the ground. Villain stood from their desk and came to where Sidekick lay on the ground. They had their speech all planned out: a hint at the torture that awaited them, a couple threatening jabs designed to really break their spirit, and then a last chance to turn on Hero and divulge their plans before–

But Villain's plans were shattered when Sidekick shot up from their prone position on the floor, wrapped their arms tightly around Villain's legs, and began weeping inconsolably. Villain could barely make out the words, but when they did, their jaw dropped.

thank you, thank you, oh god thank you –

This blubbering went on for a minute or so, and Villain marinated in the sheer awkwardness of...whatever this was, which was most certainly not what they'd planned for.

"Alright. Sidekick. Calm down." Villain patted their head stiffly and pried Sidekick's grateful arms off of their legs, now sore from how tightly Sidekick was clinging to them. They deposited their captive on a nearby chair, and there, Villain could size up who they were up against and what they could inflict.

But from the looks of things, Villain had - quite literally - been beaten to the punch.

Sidekick's face sported a black eye, a split lip, and several nasty-looking scrapes and gashes. Their usually spotless outfit was torn and dirty, and Villain could see bruises on their exposed skin. Sidekick clutched their left wrist to their chest and shook uncontrollably - whether from fear or the over-air conditioned room, Villain couldn’t tell.

"Did my associates do this to you?” Probably from the struggle of the capture - they made a mental note to berate their lackeys for disobeying them yet again. “I told them not to touch you before you had a chance to turn–"

Sidekick shook their head earnestly. Well. Not Henchman, then.

And there was more to this scene that unsettled Villain. The uniform hung loosely on Sidekick's thin frame, and Villain could see the hollowness in their drawn, pale face. And there was something about their demeanor – cowering in a chair, not quite meeting Villain's eyes, that was so different from the defiant fireball they'd met in their previous clashes with Hero. Villain frowned. Something wasn’t right.

"Then who did this to you?" Sidekick seemed frozen. They opened their mouth, but no words came out. "Is there another Villain I need to watch out for?"

Sidekick nodded - yes. Their eyes filled with fear, and Villain felt something in their heart clench. They were no saint, but they'd never seen someone so afraid. The truth was, they really only loved to torment the defiant ones, the arrogant ones who refused to admit that they could break like anyone else. But this one – this one was already broken. And there was just no joy to be found in that.

Villain knelt before Sidekick, whose tears began slipping from their eyes in earnest.

"Sidekick. Who did this?"

Sidekick released a shuddering sigh. "Hero," they whispered. voice cracking.

Villain's head spun. No....it couldn’t be.

Couldn't it?

Hero. The one who'd mocked them endlessly when they were children, making fun of their clothes, their hair, their unconventional ideas.

Hero. The one who cheated them out of the coveted top spot at the local training school all those years ago .

Hero. The bright, shining example that the city worshipped while Villain slunk in the shadows and did their business in a less...conventional manner.

Hero. The one that everyone trusted, loved, revered, when only Villain knew the truth.

“Hero did this to you?”

Sidekick nodded, and the tears came freely. They told their tale - how they’d accidentally come across some of Hero's shady dealings and thought it was a mistake. But when they’d confronted Hero, Hero had turned on them - told Sidekick they were being irrational, unfair, judgmental, that they didn’t understand what it took to have the weight of the city on their shoulders, all but confirming that it wasn’t a mistake at all. Sidekick had been heartbroken, and set out to redeem the mentor they idolized.

For months, they'd tried to help hide what Hero was doing. Siphoning money from dark places, putting their friends in power and defaming good, honest people who stood in their way. Hiding behind a perfect smile while manipulating everyone around them into perfect submission. Sidekick fought every day to try and redeem the good person they though they knew, but it was no use - that person didn't exist.

But the worst came when Sidekick tried to leave - and Hero wouldn't let them. Villain swallowed hard as Sidekick described what happened - nights, starving, alone, and locked in a cold cell. Dangerous missions where Hero forced Sidekick into danger, only to rescue them at the last possible moment. “Trainings” that lasted for hours and left them bloody and bruised. All from the person Sidekick had looked up to. And if they said a word, it was Sidekick's family who would pay the price.

Until Villain came, swooped in, and stole them from a situation that they couldn’t see any other way out of.

“So...now I’m here.” Sidekick met Villain’s eyes warily, cheeks slightly reddening with embarrassment. “And I guess...you’re gonna hurt me too. But I never would have gotten out of there without you. And at least now, my family's safe. So...thank you.”

Villain had never felt this before - the quiet gratitude of someone who’s life they’d accidentally made better. The ache of sympathy for the thin, shaky waif in front of him, who had nowhere else to turn. No, this was very new. And terrifying. And it felt...good.

"No."

Sidekick’s eyes clouded with confusion at Villain's sudden outburst. “What...what do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Villain met Sidekick’s eyes, feeling like a fire was being stoked in their gut. "I'm gonna take Hero down. Once and for all. Will you help me?"

Sidekick met their eyes and nodded, a new understanding filling them with a light Villain never thought would return.

Villain buzzed their comms system, and Henchman answered with a grunt. “You want me to come in and get started?”

Villain cleared their throat. “There’s been a change in plans. I have some...new intel. Bring up some soup, a couple blankets, and a first aid kit. Sidekick and I have a few things to talk about.”

#hero x villain #villain x sidekick #whump prompt #hero whump #villain whump #hurt comfort #whump fic #abuse tw #gaslighting tw #good villain #redeemed villain #whump writing #villain caretaker #no idea how to tag this #all i know was it was super fun to write #thanks for the amazing prompt!!!#also pls lmk if you want something tagged a certain way #i am more than happy to add things if i missed them!!#my writing

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imonthinice · 3 years ago

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 22/?

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (Your best friend's name)

We're back, we're in full swing, we've hit like 50 followers, we've hit 500 notes. We're thriving.

Also! Fun fact but I can't actually watch Young Justice season 3 (and 4) or Titans :/ They're on DC Universe, which is only available in America. (If you can't catch on, I'm not from America lol)

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Injury, Kidnapping, Police/ Justice System, Manipulation attempts, Gaslighting, Violence, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

The days became longer and kept bothering Y/N. She was losing grip on reality. Aria would come in occasionally and feed her. Give her water. Let her use the bathroom. She was stuck. She wanted to knock off that stupid fucking bird plague doctor mask and, look her pathetic sister in her eyes. And let Aria know that she knew, she knew who it was.

But she was backed into a corner. And the mask was not going to come off anytime. Boy, oh boy, she wanted it to fall. She wanted it to slip so she could boot it into the walls she had become accustomed to. She wanted it to fall and shatter.

Aria came into the room like normal, to be greeted by Y/N not even looking her in the eyes.

"Come here, love," Aria said.

"Go to Hell."

"I need to use you for a "Proof of Life" video. So I can use you for ransom. Come here."

"No."

"Come here. Now," Aria said, voice getting more hoarse and pissed off with Y/N and her actions.

"No."

"Come. Here. Now!" She screeched.

"No!"

She felt Aria's claws grab her wrists and dig in, she could feel the blood seeping through the claws from her wrists. Aria pushed her into the wall, still gripping her wrists and letting the blood flow down Y/N's arms.

"Listen here, you fucking bitch," Aria said, dropping her voice a few octaves, to seem intimidating. "I want that money. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."

Y/N whimpered but spat at her sister, "You'll fucking die trying."

Aria wrestled Y/N into her seat and handcuffed her to it. She then set up the video camera.

"And, recording. Talk."

"I fucking hate you."

"You should."

"Go to fucking Hell."

"The date is February 14th. Here," she shoved a newspaper into the view of the camera, Y/N didn't even notice Aria bring it in. She saw the article on the back of her kidnapping. She knew people were still talking.

"Here is the date. On a newspaper. This video will be released today. If I don't get the money within a week, I'll kill her. Along with the Waynes."

Y/N gulped. This just got so much more real than she was expecting.

Aria left the room, with Y/N still handcuffed to the chair. She took in the room she had become used to. She had spent a week in captivity, expecting the vigilantes of Gotham to come and get them, but they didn't. She was confused as to why-

Wait a damn minute, she thought. Are you- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait. Oh my god? The family is in captivity, the vigilantes haven't come for us yet, are- she paused. Are they the vigilantes? There's no way, they can't be- Can they? They can- Can't they, huh? Fuck. We're- We're not getting out anytime soon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is a God damn pickle we've gotten into. Aria must know what I think, the family- she paused, almost as if she didn't believe what she was thinking. That they're the Gotham vigilantes. She must- Fuck!

I don't care that they didn't tell me- she thought like someone could read her thoughts. She figured that someone might be able to. She knew that Martian Manhunter had those abilities. she figured that Miss Martian, who she didn't see often, likely shared those abilities.

I care that we might be fucked.

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

Before she knew it, that exact day, she figured, February 14th? The door was broken down by Superman. This just put the pieces together more for Y/N. Her assumptions about the Waynes being the Gotham vigilantes were just seeming more likely as time went on.

Superman uncuffed her and she thanked him before running out to where Aria was being arrested by the Gotham police. But she didn't stop, and she knocked off Aria's mask.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Aria said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Y/N mocked. "You fucking bitch!" she yelled and pushed Aria, while the police tried to detain her. She struggled and tried to attack Aria further, "Let go! I know her power of attorney is going to be her sister-"

"How do you know that?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"Because her sister is me!" She yelled when she finally broke away from the police, trying to get closer to Aria, before Commissioner Gordon stopped her, grabbing her arms and squeezing lightly. She stared at him, dead-faced. No emotions were there, other than anger, raw, seething anger.

Aria laughed, "Oops. I guess the jig is up."

Y/N was seething, she didn't even notice the JLA and the rest of the Waynes were behind her. She was still struggling to get towards Aria, yelling and just making noise.

She was making a scene, but she didn't care. She felt betrayed.

"You fucking bitch. You absolutely pathetic piece of shit."

"Keep yelling at me, Y/N. Mom and Dad will be disappointed in you. They always are, aren't they?"

Y/N turned to Commissioner Gordon, who was still holding her in place, "You either get her out of my fucking face in 5 seconds or I'm going to hurt her. That's not a threat," she turned to Aria, "That's a fucking promise."

"We might have to detain you at this rate, Y/N."

"And I would understand that, but I'm going to hurt her."

"Ma'am, calm down." Commissioner Gordon said before waving his hand and the other police took Aria into the back of a police car. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he said, trying to show sympathy for the pain that Y/N was in.

"Then do it already," Y/N mumbled, eyes still locked on the police car her sister was in.

"Gordon?" Jason called, "I swear, I've never seen this much anger in her. I'm sure you can send her home with us."

"You better be right about that, Jason."

"I really think I am right."

Gordon looked at Y/N, which she caught in the corner of her eye. She could tell he was upset about this, he was trying to get to her, to get her to understand her anger was okay, but beating her sister wasn't.

And then Aria waved as they drove her to the station.

But she wasn't even paying attention and before she knew it, she was in Jason's arms. He was holding her while talking to the police about the attack. He had his hands wrapped around her waist while he was behind her, maximizing the ability he had to stop her should she run.

He knew what he was doing, and it was working to calm her slightly, to the point where the police were able to talk to her about her experience with the attacker they knew as Hour, or as Arianna (Last name).

Once they were done with questioning her, they spoke more to Jason, who still had her in his grasp.

She surveyed the area and noticed that Bruce was talking to Superman.

The pieces were all falling into place. She knew he had to be Batman at that moment.

And she wanted in on it.

The hopelessness she felt when Aria had her kidnapped was astronomical. She wanted to make sure no one ever felt that way again, not if she could help it. She wanted in on it all.

She thought back to Jason's stab wound, the scar still fresh. She knew it wasn't a mugging. It had to be him saving the city from peril. She realized how dumb she was for buying into that lie, but she wasn't mad at anyone in her vicinity.

She was mad- pissed- so far beyond angry at Aria.

She didn't know she could be so angry. She didn't know she had it in her to be so angry at Aria. But she was. She was so unbelievably pissed. Any mention of her name sent Y/N into seething anger, and Jason could feel her heart race in her body.

She wasn't paying attention to words anymore. She just wanted to get out of there, to go home. To her home, not Jason's. She didn't feel safe in the Wayne Manor anymore.

No one could blame her when she told the police to drive her to her house, not the Wayne Manor. Jason just hugged her and asked when he could see her next. She told him in the morning. "Or," she added, "At 3 in the morning. I don't care. Just leave me alone right now."

Everyone understood. They didn't have their own sister kidnap them after all.

She got to her house and got inside, A/N immediately trying to flag her down to talk to her, but she just put up a hand and waved her off. Slinking to her room without a second thought and locking the door.

She didn't want to talk about it. The thoughts about her sister racing through her mind. The thoughts about how her boyfriend was a vigilante. How was she going to bring this up? How was she going to tell him that she knew? That she wanted in on the act? That she wanted to fight alongside him- and his family?

Before she knew it, and like clockwork, it was 3 in the morning. And Jason was knocking on her window. She assumed that he had tried to let himself into her room, but to no avail since she hadn't unlocked the door.

She went over to her window and unlocked it. She lifted it and Jason crawled in.

"I have a front door," she said.

"You didn't answer when I tried to knock on your door," he joked. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as anyone can in my situation."

"Well, everyone wishes you came home with us, so we could watch you on your first night away from-"

"From my sister?"

"I was going to say from captivity."

"So, my sister."

"Yeah, that."

"Uh-huh."

"So, anyway," Jason said, trying to get Y/N's mind off of Aria. "Did you sleep when you got here?" he asked.

"No. I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Lost in thought. There's a lot of thoughts, not enough brain," she joked. "You probably get that part."

"I do-"

"When were you going to tell me?" she but in.

"Tell you what?" he questioned, confused.

"That you're one of the vigilantes," she answered, studying his face. He seemed taken aback by the statement and tried to avert her gaze. Oh yeah, he knows what I'm on about, she thought.

"I-"

"You know what I'm on about, Jay. You know I know so don't lie anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No. You know I know. I know you know. Don't lie anymore. I'm not even ad at the lies, you're trying to keep me safe, obviously."

"Oh."

"The truth is, babe, I want in."

"What!?"

(Oh my god? Are we going to get Red Hood action? (The answer is yes, in due time)

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Already Gone

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 3477

Part One of Two

Summary: With a relationship interfering with your dangerous job, you force yourself to break things off with your boyfriend. Reid tries to maintain a professional relationship, but can’t deny his heart break. Inspired by Already Gone, a cover by Sleeping at Last.

Notes: Welp. I can’t resist putting my boys through as much pain as possible and Spencer is no exception. I was actually inspired by a pair of imagines I did for Bellamy Blake a couple of years ago, so I recommend checking those out as well. As always, let me know what you think and what you look forward for in part two!

Warnings: Plenty of angst and violence

More Criminal Minds: HERE

It never would have worked out right

We were never meant for do or die

You had finally let it happen. You’d let your feelings cloud your judgement and nearly got a hostage killed. Throwing your badge down on your desk, you hunched over it, hands gripping the wooden edge and breathing heavily. You wanted to break something, anything, but most of all you wanted to punch the wall until your knuckles split.

The rest of the team walked by your desk silently. They each knew you were beating yourself up, but they collectively decided it’d be best to let you cool off before anybody said anything. Even Hotch just gave you a reassuring nod and went to his office to fill out paperwork. While the group all moved on, one person remained. The one person you couldn’t look at right now.

“Not now, Reid.” You snapped, jerking your head up to see his concerned eyes. You had hoped that your aggressive tone would make him steer clear, but he stood his ground.

“You know what happened wasn’t your fault-”

“Don’t you start on me too.” You fell back into your chair, wanting to just disappear into the floor.

“Can we at least talk?” Spencer’s quiet and hurt voice was breaking you and you just wanted to shut it out. You buried your face in your hands and felt his hand on your shoulder. You melted into his touch, your body giving in while your heart still ached over your mistake. You knew what you had to do. It was the only way to ensure nothing like today ever happened again.

“Yeah, let’s go talk.” You said suddenly, heading to the elevator. Spencer followed you hesitantly, his face still painted with worry and confusion. As soon as the doors closed, he spoke.

“I understand that you are upset about how things happened, but we still saved a young girl today.”

“No, Prentiss saved that girl. I almost let her die.” The elevator started its descent and you felt your body pulling you down with it. The weight on your chest was crushing you and while part of you knew that Spencer was the only one that could lift it off of you, you couldn’t afford to be that selfish anymore.

“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault.” He reached out for you, but you pulled away. You kept your eyes forward, avoiding the wounded look in his eyes.

“Yes. It was. Reid, the unsub got to me by using you.”

“W-what do you mean?” His eyes widened.

“He could tell that we’re together. Somehow, he knew and he used that against me. He told me everything he would do to you and I almost killed him.” You balled your fists at your sides, your mind running through everything that psycho had threatened to do to Spencer. “I almost killed him and lost that little girl because I couldn’t control myself. If Prentiss hadn’t found her in time…”

“Y/N,” This time, when he grabbed your hands, you didn’t back away. He brought them up to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles- bruised from your struggle with the unsub, “it was one mistake. You hesitated. Agents hesitate all the time when they’re in a situation like that.”

“Not us, Reid. Not me.” You started to pull away, but his hands gripped yours. He wasn’t rough, but it was enough to keep you in place.

“That’s another thing,” He started, his voice sounding more hurt than before, “why do you keep calling me Reid?” He was right. Like J.J., you always called him Spence, or Spencer, even before you’d started seeing each other. You never called him Reid like the rest of the team. Spencer let go of your hands so he could put a hand on your cheek. “Something else is wrong.”

“Yeah, Spence, it is.” You resisted the urge to lean into his touch. Instead, you stepped away from it. “We can’t do this anymore.” You kept your expression cold and collected, even if you were shattered within. Spencer’s face fell, eyes filling with even more confusion and pain.

“What?”

“Come on, Reid. We were kidding ourselves into thinking this would work. There’s a reason team members aren’t supposed to hook up.”

“We aren’t just ‘hooking up’, Y/N. We understand each other and-and we make each other better at our job, not worse. We’ve made it work. That doesn’t have to change.”

“You’re supposed to be the logical one, right?” You snapped. “Tell me the logic in us staying together.” He had tears in his eyes now and you had to fight to hold your guard up.

“I love you.” He said softly. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. He just kept looking at you in that way that made you want to hold him and say you were sorry. But you couldn’t. Not this time. “Logic isn’t a part of it.”

“That’s the problem.” You put as much anger into your words as you could. It was the final piece for him and a tear escaped onto his cheek. You tore your eyes away, looking down at the pavement. “I have paperwork to do.”

You kept yourself from all out running until you got inside. You didn’t have the patients for the elevator, so you just sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time and tripping more than once. You kept a straight face until you closed the door to Garcia’s office.

“Hey girl, what’s-” She started, but immediately stopped when you threw your arms around her and started to sob.

I want you to know, that it doesn’t matter

Where we take this road

But someone’s gotta go

You were never sure if he was looking at you because you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You’d spent the weekend at Penelope’s house, bawling and convincing yourself that you did the right thing because you knew that even one moment of hesitation, and you would be at his apartment begging him to forgive you.

Sensing the tension at the table, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged an uncomfortable look. Hotch had called you in on another case, but Rossi was stuck in traffic so you were forced to wait in a painfully awkward silence.

“Jeez, kid, what’s going on with you?” Morgan looked at Reid, trying to get a read of what might be bothering him.

“Nothing’s going on with me.” He replied coolly, keeping his gaze on the smooth surface of the desk. You felt Morgan’s inquiring stare turn to you, but you kept your eyes forward, desperately hoping Rossi would get there soon.

“Sorry I’m late,” He entered the room with a scowl and took a seat with the rest of the team. “Damn roadwork.”

“Alright, everyone,” J.J. began, passing out the files as she went around the table. Her hand briefly grazed your shoulder in a sign of sympathy. Somehow, she always knew. “Local authorities in Maine found the bodies of two women who had been reported missing two weeks ago. Their wrists showed signs of being bound, probably with duct tape, and they suffered multiple wounds to the chest. The M.E. thinks it was an arrow.”

“Bow hunting?” Prentiss suggested.

“They said from the looks of the injuries, the arrow had to have been shot from a distance, so hunting is a possibility.”

“Why shoot them more than once?” Morgan wondered, taking a look at the crime scene photos.

“There’s one more thing.” J.J. sighed, clicking to a new picture on the screen. It was a smiling woman holding a child. “Rachel Bratton, 32, was reported missing a week after the first two victims. Police didn’t find her with the others so-”

“The unsubs might be holding her somewhere.” Hotch finished grimly. “Alright, everyone. Let’s move. Plane leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Everyone hurried to grab their things from their desks. You just wanted to get out of that room. Before you grabbed your bag, however, you heard a quiet voice.

“You aren’t even going to talk to me?” Spencer wondered, his voice sounded soft and broken. “I thought we could at least be friends.”

“Reid, don’t do this now.” You begged. If he kept this up, you would break too and you couldn’t afford for that to happen. His jaw clenched and he reached into his jacket pocket.

“Here.” He held out a closed fist, slowly opening his fingers to reveal a small golden star. It was your favorite hair pin. “You left this at my apartment. I thought you might want it back.” You picked up the small metal clip, running your fingers along the points.

“Spence…”

“I’ll see you on the plane.” He snapped, snatching up his own bag and heading out. You cursed to yourself, shoving the pin into your pocket and following the team out to go to the airport.

You found a seat to yourself and focused on looking over the case files despite the aching feeling in your chest. By the time the plane was ready to take off, everyone had found places and a blonde-framed face appeared in front of you.

“Alright, spill.” J.J. ordered, crossing her arms over her chest. You sighed, keeping your eyes on the M.E.’s report.

“I’m fine, Jen.”

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’re lucky I convinced Morgan to back off. He was ready for a full on interrogation.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N, everybody knows something happened between you and Spence. You’ve been distant from everyone. He has been burying his head in books every spare second when he isn’t painfully looking at you.” She was blunt because it made you listen. “We’re worried.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. We got into a little fight. Friends fight.”

“Just friends?” She raised a brow. She always knew. You leaned back in your seat, defeated.

“We dated for a while, but it got in the way of work so I broke things off.” You finally admitted, trying to read her face for a reaction. “Happy?” She frowned sympathetically.

“How long were you together?” She asked. Just thinking about it still stung.

“Almost a year.”

“And you two didn’t tell anyone this whole time?” She gasped. You shook your head.

“We knew that Hotch wouldn’t approve.” You turned to the team as they got ready to make a plan. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.” Just saying the words made the lump in your throat bigger.

Hotch briefed everyone on their focus and where each member would be headed. You would be meeting with the missing woman’s fiancé. Along with Reid.

“Shouldn’t I go with Morgan and Rossi to the dump sight? I feel like I can be more helpful there than talking to the distressed fiancé.” Reid said, his gaze slipping in your direction. Hotch just blinked in annoyance.

“If we can understand Rachel’s routine, we can figure out how and where she was abducted. I need you to work on the geological profile.” He said sternly. He wasn’t oblivious to the awkwardness on the plane, but it wasn’t remotely on his list of problems. Reid didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting.

I didn’t come here to hurt you

Now I can’t stop

“I still feel like it’s my fault.” Brendon Nathonson sat with his head in his hands. “I was in a rush to get to work so I didn’t stop to see if she came back from her run that morning. I should have checked.”

“Does Rachel run every morning?” You asked, your tone sympathetic and soothing. You’d lost count of how many grieving or panicked loved-ones you’d spoken to over the years. It was one of the common parts of the job, but sitting next to Spencer made it feel different. Brendon nodded.

“She was a track star in high school. Guess she never grew out of it, right?” He sniffed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Do you have any idea where these psychos could be keeping her?”

“That’s actually what you might be able to help us with, Mr. Nathonson.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we can figure out exactly where Rachel was taken, we can compare it to where the other two women were taken and found and possibly create a geological profile that could help us narrow down where the unsubs may operate out of.” Reid explained. The poor man still looked incredibly confused so you translated.

“He means that these guys probably have an area that they’re comfortable working in, meaning both where they take their victims and where they may be keeping them.”

“Oh god,” Brendon cried, covering his eyes with his hand. “You know, we kept pushing it back? The wedding. It was supposed to be in June, but then her sister couldn’t make it so we made it October, but then my best friend got sick. And now I might never get to marry her.”

“We are going to do everything we can to bring Rachel home, Mr. Nathonson.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the presence beside you was making your heart beat out of your chest.

“She’s my everything, you know?” Brendon finally looked up again. “When you lose that… it’s like losing a part of yourself.”

When the interview was over, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Everything that Brendon Nathonson said was searing itself into your brain, echoing around and around like a bad song on repeat. You slammed the door of the main office, making sure no one was already in there. You pressed your forehead against the cool wood of the door, trying to calm yourself down. This was why you wanted to end things to begin with. You couldn’t control your emotions around him. Even now, despite the case, all you could think about was him and how much he hated you.

A quiet knock startled you. You jumped back from the door, and forced yourself to calm down. Spencer slowly stepped inside, closing the door again behind him.

“I saw you run in here.” He started softly.

“I didn’t run.” You scoffed, more frustrated with yourself than anything else. “You probably need some time to do the geological profile. I’ll call Hotch and tell him what Nathonson said-” You started to leave, but his hand gently grabbed your arm.

“Wait.” He pleaded, those perfect eyes staring deeply into yours. “Can we just talk?”

“Spence…” You trailed off. Frankly, it’s all you had wanted to do. He at least deserved that. You blew out a heavy sigh and sat down. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus on this case because of all of this.” You ran a hand down your face.

“Neither have I.” Spencer sat down across from you, placing his hand on top of yours. “All I can think about is you.” Before, whenever he was with you, he thought clearer, focused more, and noticed every little detail of a case. Now, all he could think about was how much he missed you.

“Once we get through this case, I promise that we’ll talk, okay?” There was so much you wanted to say right there, but you couldn’t find the words. I still love you was all that came to mind. Spencer nodded.

“Then let’s make sure we solve this.” His awkward, crooked smile made you laugh and the two of you got to work trying to find Rachel Bratton.

You know that I love you so

I love you enough to let you go

The team circled the building, ready to go in. You were with Reid and Rossi, guns drawn as you went in the back door. It was an old meat processing plant that was located right in the middle of both the abduction and dump sights. Without Reid, you wouldn’t have been able to find it. You checked the back warehouse before moving onto another room, but not before you noticed something. A big metal door was cracked open just enough for you to get a peek inside.

“Guys, over here.” You signaled, seeing Rachel Bratton sitting on the far side of a cage just inside the room.

“Please help me.” She begged. You tried to pry the door open more, but it wouldn’t budge. The opening was just wide enough that you could barely slide through, but you would have to take off your vest to fit. Before Rossi or Reid could say anything, you had undone the straps and were sliding through the narrow gap.

“Is anybody in there with you?” You asked, still keeping your gun ready. Rachel shook her head.

“No.” She gulped back a sob. “No, they went out that hatch.”

“Y/N, maybe you should wait-”

“I’m fine, Reid.” You glanced back at him as you finally slipped into the room. “She said that they went outside. Let Hotch know.”

Reluctantly, Reid followed Rossi back outside in pursuit of the killers. You made quick work of the lock on the cage and helped Rachel stand up. She collapsed against you, sobbing and thanking you over and over again.

“Can you walk?” You asked gently. She nodded and you approached the hatch on the floor. Sure enough, it led down to the forest floor. You helped her down and kept your weapon out in front of you, keeping Rachel close behind.

“Y/N!” Reid shouted, joining you again. Rossi flanked Rachel’s other side, keeping his eyes on the trees.

“Have they found them?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Rossi shook his head. “Alright, we need to get back to the car so we can get Rachel to the hospital. Let’s move.”

The four of you moved cautiously towards the front of the warehouse. The trees surrounding you rustled and groaned in the midwestern winds. You thought it was a trick of light at first, but when you saw the shining tip of an arrow, you aimed your weapon and fired. Mikah Roman tumbled across the forest floor towards you. Rachel screamed and latched onto Spencer.

“Mikah Roman, you’re under arrest for the murder of Abbie Stockwell and Bonnie Andrews and the kidnapping of Rachel Bratton.” You yanked Mikah’s arms behind his back, causing him to scream out. The shot in his arm was gushing blood as you cuffed his wrists.

Rossi’s gaze jerked upwards suddenly and Reid pushed away from Rachel, calling out your name. You whirled around to see what they were looking at.

“No!” Spencer screamed, watching the arrow enter the center of your chest. You didn’t hear your own gasp over the sound of Rossi’s gun shot, taking out the second killer without hesitation. Funnily enough, you couldn’t hear Rachel’s screaming sobs. You just heard a small voice in your ear. Arms were holding you up off the ground, pulling you into their lap. When did you fall? Why was your shirt wet?

“Spencer…” You started, but your words came out garbled and breathy. What was happening? Why was your chest so sore?

“Shhh, don’t talk.” Spence put his hands on your wound. Why did he look so scared?

“W-what’s going on?” You gasped, the pressure from his hands making you cry out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He muttered, blood quickly coating his hands. Rossi was lifting Micah to his feet and speaking into the radio in a panicked voice. That’s when Spencer started yelling. “Somebody help! Help us! Agent down! Somebody help us! Please, she needs help!” You finally understood what was going on, the initial shock of your injury clearing from your mind.

“Spencer…”

“Somebody help!”

“Spence.” You reached up and touched his cheek. “I-I’m okay.”

“Help is on the way.” Through the sound of his heart pounding, he could hear footsteps approaching. The rest of the team gathered around, Prentiss stopping cold at the sight in front of her. Spencer smiled with delusional relief. “See, Hotch and Morgan and Prentiss are all here. They can help you-” He looked back down and stopped.

Your head was tilted back, a small trail of blood trickled down from your mouth. Your eyes blankly staring up at the clouded, grey sky. His crimson stained hands reached for your face, smearing the blood on the skin of your cheek. He recoiled from the sight, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him.

Morgan made a step towards Reid, the younger agent’s quiet sobs growing louder and louder until they were unbearable. Hotch put a hand out to stop him. He knew that Reid needed this moment. He needed to say goodbye.

And I want you to know, you couldn’t have loved me better

But I want you to move on

So I’m already gone

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagines #penelope garcia #j.j.#criminal mainds #dr. spencer reid #Matthew Grey Gubler #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #death #already gone #sleeping at last #song based imagines #angst

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suicidalslasher · 4 years ago

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𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous dumbass, that’s it - that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice.

Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her.

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her.

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows? Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here.

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of poison. He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind. He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so. Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue. Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down; therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N) set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared and his pupils were blown and dilated as he snarled like an out of control beast. "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason, as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces. "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand. "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.” "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-" "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant son of a bitch never listens! "You love him more than you do me." Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend. "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him. He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak. She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain. "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too. "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did." (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes.

Another week following behind that.

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he?

Jason wasn't huge on showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too. All three traits made him who he was.�� People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody. Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either. Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself. By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears. Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized. All he got was her voicemail. "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!" Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry.

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.

(Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways. "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts. "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

Listen, I'm sorry for everything, (Y/N). I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

I'll talk here, hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay?

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay?

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too." With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side. Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it.

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit... Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed.

In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail. She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new.

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other.

And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that. Jason was still a huge dumbass, however.

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a huge fucking idiot.

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words.

He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.

He was met with.... well, not a burglar neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago.

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken. "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight.

(Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway. He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing a bandage won't fix, right?"

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass."

Oh.

It was bad.

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life.

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued. "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.”

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you."

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron. "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred.

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?"

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling."

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear."

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..."

#heathers #jason dean x reader #jason dean x yn #jason dean fanfics #jason dean x femreader #jason dean one shot #jason dean imagines #christian slater #christian slater x reader #christian slater x yn #my works #cierra's stories

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raibebe · 4 years ago

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Invoke

Genre: Mystery? Thriller? Slightly gore? With some fluff? And eventual smut? Words: 13.315 Prompt: Warlock Yuta, familiar Ten, female reader Warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of religion, blasphemy (our warlock doesn’t like the church and made a deal with the devil), blood, devil summoning, murder with magic, actual murder

A/N: This has a couple of darker themes, if you’re sensitive to any of them, please be careful or just sit this fic out and don’t read it. The abuse is only implied and is not happening to any of the main characters. This seriously went out of hand and holy fuck I love warlock Yuta?? Thank you so much for requesting this @def-sol! Ruby I loved this idea so much, I hope you enjoyed this. The beautiful moodboard is by @min-inu as always, thank you darling! Another big thank you to @burtonized, Jo you’re the real MVP for listening to me whine all day long.

Warlock: A male practitioner of witchcraft. The word comes from the Old English word wǣrloga meaning “oathbreaker” or “deceiver”. The terms were associated with witches and warlocks as they were seen as someone who made a pact with the devil and thus had betrayed the Christian faith and broke their baptismal vows.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, the clouds had sunken into the valley your hometown was located in and covered everything in a layer of grey fog, washing away every color. You adjusted the hood of your cloak to shield yourself from the moisture after you stepped out of the little bakery you worked at when you heard the hooves of multiple horses on the beat up street that lead to the little town. Knowing that nothing good ever came from those horseman, you quickly hid the loaf of bread in your ratty coat and headed to the town square. A small crowd had already gathered when one of the knights pulled loose what seemed to be a lump rolled into a cloth from his horse that fell to the ground with a low thud. Only when it started to move, you felt the horror creep up your back. A couple of people quickly scrambled to see what was inside the cloth, even though you all already knew it. Beneath the thick linen, a girl’s face was revealed. You hadn’t known her when the knights had taken her with them just a couple of weeks prior but you could feel nothing but sincere pity for the girl. Her face was unnaturally swollen, her skin more the color of violets than her actual skin tone, blood clinging to her features and she was shivering in the arms of one of the women, completely silent. You turned your back towards her, not wanting to see the state the rest of her body must be in. The last girl that had come back from the royal court had only lasted a week before she had died due to the multiple injuries she had. She also hadn’t spoken a single word. But everyone had known what that men of the court must have done to her in the castle that overlooked the little valley, sitting high up on a nearby hill.

The knights just kept sitting in their saddles, completely unfazed. How could a person be this cold? How could they just follow the orders from their sires to keep taking girls away from their families to bring them back broken and beat, unable to continue to live a normal life? And how was no one doing anything against this? Why were the lords of these lands above the law? Why didn’t the priests do anything with all the power they had? The sight made you sick to the stomach and you couldn’t stand to look at the scene even a second longer, walking back to your home, trying to ignore the screams of the girl the knights must have picked out to take with them. You grabbed the cross hanging around your neck tightly and spoke a prayer to protect the girl from the worst.

That night you couldn’t fall asleep, your thoughts twisting and turning inside your head. Your anger towards the royals only grew more and more with each girl they took with them and you were sick of everyone just accepting their fate. The girls lived in fear that they would be the next one taken and the fathers and mothers were desperate to keep their daughters safe, praying every evening inside the small church. But with every day that passed you lost faith in your god. How could a just god let all of this happen? And the people of the town alone couldn’t do anything to stop this abuse. If they would speak up, they wouldn’t even be able to finish their words because their head would be rolling from their shoulders as soon as they opened their mouths.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, staring at the holes in the ceiling. You refused to accept that you should patiently wait until the knights unfortunately picked you to take you to the castle where the royals would completely break you, shattering your being to the core. There must be a way to stop all of this. To put an end to the injustice that was happening. When the new lord had been initiated, he had sworn with his hand on the Sacred Scriptures that he would protect the people caring for his lands. If this was what him caring looked like, you didn’t even want to know what it would be like if he was turning a blind eye. It really seemed like you and your town needed some supernatural help or otherwise the royals would just keep playing with the lives of their subjects like they meant nothing.

That was when an idea shot into your head, making you sit up in your bed. After the last girl had come back and the healers of your village hadn’t been able to arrest her bleeding and the prayers of the priests hadn’t helped either, her mother had sneaked away to find a man that lived alone in the woods who was rumored to be gifted with certain powers that allowed him to give and take life. Of course the mother had to do it in secret; if the priests ever found out about that man, he would be burned on the town’s square just like the red haired woman who had wanted to travel through the town. Sometimes you could still hear her screams when the flames ate away her flesh. The next night you had seen a figure wearing a dark cloak sneaking into the home of the family. Curious as to what was going to happen you had sneaked over as well, watching the scene through a crack in the back door: The man had sat down on the bed of the girl and took off his hood to reveal long unruly strands of a red brighter than you had ever seen. He had spoken a couple of words in a language unfamiliar to you, keeping his voice level and his gaze down towards the girl. After a while, the girl had begun to shake and thrash only to suddenly stop mid movement before deflating back onto the mattress. The man then had let out a deep sigh before he put the hood of his cloak over his head again. He only said four words to the parents on his way out: “Her struggle is over.” When the parents ran to the body of their daughter, he had picked up a bundle the father had set up on the desk and left without looking back. That night you could hear the mother cry until the sun crawled over the trees of the forest again and the nature came back to life to cover her pain with beautiful symphonies.

That man had liberated the girl from her injuries and pain by taking her life just from talking to her. He must have some special powers people attributed to witches and warlocks. He must be powerful enough to help you. And if the family of that girl was able to pay him to use his abilities in their favor (even if it hadn’t turned out how they wanted to), he must also have a price for killing the royals. Or at least send them a warning. You had to find this man and at least try to win him over. As far as you were concerned he might be your only chance to put an end to this.

After a rough night of twisting and turning in your scratchy sheets, you got up more determined than ever to find the mysterious warlock. You quickly got dressed in your warmest cloak and left the house you had rented your room in, sneaking past your snoring landlord who smelled like he had spent his night in the tavern yet again, drinking too much and then lusting after the skirts of women that were way too young for him. You couldn’t help but feel relieved when you left the house and could breathe in the fresh air of the morning. Once your lungs were filled with air smelling like a mixture of freshly cut grass and baked bread, you turned to leave the town. You had no idea where exactly you could find the man. But rumors about him had traveled around the town since the day you were born. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have been around for as long as you could think which didn’t match with how young he had seemed to be when you got that glimpse of him a couple of weeks prior. But the priests always preached that those who had broken their vows and abandoned the right path had many different wicked tricks to disguise their true form.

Mindlessly you followed a trail that lead deeper into the woods and away from the fields where the workers were cultivating different plants both for themselves and for the damned royals. If the priests had never bothered to pay the man a visit, he must live in a place they couldn’t reach, up higher the hill where the paths were narrow and steep. So those were the paths you were taking, paying attention to never lose your footing and keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious.

You were about to give up when the underbrush became thicker and thicker, clearly untouched when you heard the jingle of what seemed to be a little bell. Why would there be a bell ringing in the middle of the forest? Cautiously you listened and crept closer to what seemed to be the source of the noise. It wasn’t long until you found the cause: A small black cat was rubbing its head against a branch in what seemed to be an attempt to get the collar off but it was wrapped too tightly around its throat. “Do you need some help, little one?” You softly asked as to not startle the feline. The cat immediately stopped whatever it was trying to do and stared up at you from big, amber eyes. You carefully approached it and kneeled down, slowly extending your hand towards it so it could see that you meant no harm. After it carefully eyed you up and down, the cat crawled over to first sniff your fingers before it pressed its head into your palm. Giggling you scratched it behind its ears which earned you a loud purr. “Let me get that collar off of you,” you murmured, carefully tipping the cat’s head so you could examine the leather band the bell was fastened onto. With nimble fingers you undid the intricate knot and the cat could slip out of it. Once it was free, it curved its back and hissed loudly at the little object resting in your palm. “You really didn’t like that bell, huh?” You smiled. “Who do you belong to, little one? I’m looking for a man with red hair. I was hoping he could help me with a problem.” Why were you talking to a cat? It wasn’t like it could understand and lead you to the warlock.

Strangely enough the cat crooked its head as if it was listening to your words and thinking about what it should do. “Do you know him and can take me to him?” You asked carefully, eyeing the cat carefully. It meowed loudly before it got up to disappear deeper into the underbrush. You sighed deeply. Of course the cat had neither understood you nor would it be able to help you. Whether you liked it or not, you might had to ask the family who had lost their daughter where you could find the warlock. It was useless to stray through the forest like this, hoping to stumble upon a house or the man himself. You were about to turn around when another rather annoyed sounding meow tore through the sounds of the forest and a pair of amber eyes looked at you from the bush the cat had jumped into. “Are you trying to help me find him?” You disbelievingly asked the cat who actually rolled its eyes at you. When did a normal cat ever roll its eyes? Could cats even roll their eyes? What was happening? Before your thoughts could spiral any further, the cat made its way through the underbrush again, and you scrambled to follow the black creature, not taking chances of losing it between the bushes and trees.

Soon you reached a clearing the cat eagerly crossed, climbing onto a big stone surface in the grass where it curled up in the sun. Further back between a couple of big oak trees sat a small hut that surely had seen better times. “Where have you taken me?” You quietly asked the cat. Of course it didn’t respond, it just lazily turned its head towards the house where a figure clad in black clothes just emerged, their red hair reflecting the light of the sun that was peeking through the trees. “You little shit!” The person called, clearly a male voice, “How did you manage to get it off?” The cat didn’t even react to the screaming, just stretching its lithe body in the sun. “And who are you?” The man asked when he came closer, his green eyes so piercing it made you shiver. “I- Your cat showed me the way,” you stuttered. “That’s not what I asked, woman.” The warlock angrily crossed his arms in front of his chest and arched one of his eyebrows, waiting for an actual answer to his question. Taking a deep breath, you explained your situation to the man: Beginning with the story of how the knights kept kidnapping girls from your town and in which state they brought them back, if they brought them back at all. Then you told him how helpless the people were, how everyone with a daughter lived in constant fear that she would be next. You told him that you had seen him all those nights ago when he took the girl’s life to rid her from her suffering. Through all of it his face remained blank just the cat got up from where it was curled up, walking around its owner’s feet. “I need your help. We all do,” you ended your speech, “I know it’s within your powers to take lives. We need help getting rid of these royals. We can’t keep living like this, they will keep taking girls until there are no more left and I can’t just watch and wait until they take me. Please, we have no means of doing anything against them.”

“No.” “What do you mean no?” You asked the warlock who had scooped up his lithe cat into his arms and turned to walk back into his house. “I’m not doing it. It’s no use to interfere with royals, they never change.” “But you could help the whole town. We are being terrorized, every week the guards come and take another girl with them and they either never come back or they are so traumatized they can’t even speak about whatever has happened to them and we can only tend to their wounds. I am begging you,” you pleaded but the warlock didn’t turn back around, only his cat seemed to listen who had climbed onto his shoulder, looking at you from its big amber eyes. “I’ll do anything. Take me, take my body, I don’t care. I just don’t want them to break me.” “Anything you say?” The man asked, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t want them to have control over my body,” you whispered, “You can’t do anything worse to me than what the royals are doing to those girls.”

After a beat of silence, the cat meowed loudly, jumping down from the man’s shoulder to walk over to you again, cocking its head as if it was evaluating you. “I’m not going to do it,” the warlock repeated but before you could protest, he turned around again, locking his piercing green eyes with yours, “But I am going to teach you so you can do it yourself.” “It’s not going to be nice or easy,” he continued, looking you up and down once, then twice, “Take that thing off, we won’t need it where we are headed.” He motioned to the cross you had dangling around your neck; your only possession of any worth. “It has protected me from evil up until now,” you protested, closing your fist around it. “Woman. What did the priests tell you where me and my brothers and sisters have gotten our powers from?” The warlock asked, his green eyes almost glowing. You had never heard a man saying the word ‘priest’ with so much hatred and disgust. “They say you’ve made a deal with the... With the devil,” you stuttered. “For once that is a piece of truth that those fat men are speaking,” he snarled, “We are not born with these powers, we have to offer Satan a piece of ourselves in exchange for the powers he grants us with and he won’t be pleased to see that symbol of lies and oppression around your neck.”

For a while you stood still in front of the warlock who had come so close to you that you could count every single chain link on the chain that was hanging from the cartilage of his ear. “How badly do you want to make those good-for-nothing-royals to pay for what they have done?” He spoke lowly, lifting his hand to slowly caress your jaw. You took a shaky breath and met his eyes again. “More than anything in my life.” “Then this shouldn’t be a problem,” he rasped before he grabbed your necklace and ripped it straight off, throwing it into the woods. Shaking off the shock, you quickly followed him and his cat into the little house that seemed to burst from its seams: Herbs, candles and different bones hanging from the ceiling and sitting on almost every available surface.

“Just sit on the sofa and don’t distract me,” the warlock said, starting to rummage through drawers. “Are you going to tell me your name?” You carefully asked after you had sat down on the only free space of the sofa, the cat quickly joining you, “In the town they just call you ‘the outcast’ if they speak about you.” The man snorted loudly. “I like that title but you can call me Yuta.” Yuta. You had never heard that name before. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “I am not. Not that it is any of your business. I am just going to help you to get your revenge on those royals. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You nodded, idly stroking the black cat in your lap who had started purring loudly. You hadn’t expected the warlock to act like he did. You had come here expecting to bribe him with either money or even your body. It hadn’t fully sunken in that Yuta would turn you into a witch by making a deal with the devil. But you had a mission. You couldn’t just watch another girl getting taken by the knights to become a toy for some royal asshole that would throw her away like a broken shield. You really hoped that the whole process wouldn’t take long. The longer you needed to wait with your revenge, the more girls would get taken and never be the same again.

“What’s its name?” You asked curiously after you had been stroking the cat’s fur for a while. “He’s called Ten,” Yuta answered while grabbing different stones and skulls from the drawers of his giant cupboard that was covering the length of a whole wall. “Like the number?” “He’s the tenth child of a tenth child. Don’t underestimate him just because he looks like a cat.” “But what could he do?” You were confused. “A lot more than your mortal brain could imagine,” a smooth voice answered instead of Yuta’s and it took you a second before you realized it had been the cat who had spoken. “Did the cat just speak?” You squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything,” the warlock grinned and left the room to search for more ingredients. “He did just tell you my name, don’t go around calling me ‘the cat’ now,” the voice spoke again. You looked down to the cat that was curled up in your lap to find him looking right back at you with a stare that should have been way too intense for a mere cat. “How do you do that?” You whispered. “Does he know you can talk?” “You think he would survive out here on his own for years on end if he didn’t have me to talk to?” “But he said he doesn’t hear you.” “Because I am talking to you right now and not to him,” Ten stated as if this was the most normal thing in the world while he was cleaning his fur.

“Don’t believe anything he is telling you. Everything he’s telling you about me is made up,” Yuta said when he came back to the room, a dagger in his hands. “I sincerely hope you aren’t scared of blood because otherwise this is going to be difficult.” You swallowed dryly, looking at the size of that dagger, but slowly shook your head. Yuta’s green eyes fixated on yours for a couple of moments before he nodded, wrapping the dagger in a cloth with multiple questionable stains. “I’m assuming you have saved your virtue?” You felt the heat rise to your face at his question, never had you met such a man who would ask questions like that so directly and unashamed. “I- I have,” you stuttered, feeling the need to cover your burning cheeks. “That saves us a lot of trouble,” Yuta nodded, grabbing some more things that he had scattered around the house.

“We need to walk for a bit, I am not opening a gate to hell in my garden again. The smell is horrible to get rid of,” the warlock called after he had found everything he needed and had rolled it into a cloth for transportation. “The smell?” “Have you ever been present at a burning of a supposed witch? That’s the smell. But amplified,” Ten provided from his space on the sofa cushions. “Already scared?” Yuta asked with a smirk on his plush lips when he saw your scandalized expression. “No,” you answered, squaring your shoulders, “I’ll do whatever it takes.” “You better,” he grinned and opened the door of his home, leading you into the forest, further up the hill.

Soon you reached a little clearing where the soil seemed oddly burned where Yuta dropped his bundle of supplies. “You do this here often?” You asked curiously, looking around the area. “Opening a gate to hell? No. But sometimes it is fun to mess with demons,” he answered, winking mischievously, making your heart skip a beat. “Demons are a thing?” “Of course they are,” the warlock giggled, wiggling his eyebrows while pulling a smaller sachet from his makeshift bag, “Just stand in the middle of the burned area and don’t move.”

Nodding you followed his orders and watched him paint a perfect circle around you with the white powder from the sachet. After he had finished the circle, he painted lines through it, creating a pentagram. Satisfied with his work he pulled candles and crystals from his bag next, placing them at the edges of the pentagram and lighting the candles with a mere flick of his wrist. Next he grabbed a skull from his bag, placing it at your feet. “Now to the less comfortable part,” Yuta mumbled, pulling the dagger from its wrappings, “Hold out your arms and don’t move whatever happens. Your innocence is what keeps this whole thing from falling apart.” Slowly you held up your arms and he rolled up your sleeves. You prayed that he wouldn’t notice how you were trying to fight the way your arms were shaking but of course it didn’t slip his sharp eyes. “Nervous?” He grinned. “You are about to summon the literal devil, telling me I am what makes or breaks this ritual. Of course I am nervous,” you stammered, balling your hands to control the shaking. “Cute. Nervous about the ritual and not about losing your humanity for a petty revenge,” the warlock laughed. Before you could reply, he had quickly pulled the dagger across his palm without even batting an eye. “Now brace yourself.” He walked along the perimeter of the circle again, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice carrying a different weight than before, like he was speaking with multiple voices at once. When he had completed the circle, he closed off his wound with another flick of his wrist before walking towards you, still chanting the foreign words. Once he stood in front of you, he slowly raised the blade, locking eyes with you once before he dragged it over your exposed arms, making your blood seep from the cut.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the whimper inside that was trying to fight its way past your lips. You were not showing the warlock any more weaknesses than you already had; you could do this. Yuta kept his eyes to where more and more blood was coming to the surface, watching the droplets come together to drip off your arm. As soon as the first droplet hit the ground, the atmosphere around you changed: There were no more birds singing or wind ruffling through the leaves of the trees and it seemed to have gotten darker, almost unnaturally so, the candles supplying the only light on the clearing. A heartbeat later, the flames shot up high into the air, causing you to flinch. You fought your instinct to turn on the spot to run away. You needed to do this. Needed to do this for the sake of your town’s people. “Relax,” Yuta whispered into your ear, slowly turning your arms so the cuts were facing down, making more blood drop, “The devil is a lot nicer than the priests make him out to be.” You took a deep breath to calm your furiously beating heart which turned out to be a mistake: Your lungs were filled with the smell of burning air and sulfur, the smell so overbearing that you felt like you were suffocating. “Even breaths, in the mouth and out the nose,” Yuta whispered when he sensed your panic, gripping your arms tightly from where he was standing behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to even out your breathing while the scent of fire and burnt flesh got stronger with each breath you took. “Yuta, I can’t”, you heaved. “You can and you will,” he replied, voice stern, his nails digging into your skin. You tried to focus on the pain he was inflicting on you, the way the cuts stung and the way the blood was seeping from your flesh. You had no idea how much blood you had lost but your head was getting dizzy and your legs weak. “Don’t quit on me now,” you heard Yuta hiss through the fog that started to cloud your brain, “We’re almost there.” His grip on you tightened significantly when a loud crack resonated in the air not unlike to when a strike of lightning had hit its target. If it was possible, the smell only became more potent and the heat the candles gave off intensified tenfold. When you heard a deep rumbling laugh, Yuta turned your arms back around so the wounds on your forearms were facing upward again.

“My lord,” you heard the warlock speak, addressing whoever he had just summoned with the help of your blood. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, it was all too much: the heat, the smell and the stinging in your arms. If you were to see whatever was happening right in front of you, you were sure your brain would either forget how to breathe or how to keep holding your body up. You were already resting most of your weight on the warlock. “You brought me a new lamb,” a deep voice filled the space around you that seemed to come from every direction at once, covering you like a cloud. “Her cause is a noble one.” The voice chuckled. “Ready to give yourself over to me?” When you didn’t reply, Yuta pinched you again and you managed to squeeze out an affirmation even though your throat felt as if it was made out of sandpaper, your voice sounding gravely and foreign to your ears. “It’s over soon, my little lamb,” the voice rumbled, “I take good care of what is mine.” Whatever who you assumed to be the devil did next, filled your body with excruciating pain. It began from the cut in your arms and it felt like he had filled your veins with liquid fire that burned its way through your every fiber, taking over every thought in your brain. A silent scream left your lips and all you could remember before passing out were a pair of piercing green eyes and the smell of sulfur.

When you regained consciousness it was in the comfort of a soft mattress beneath a thick blanket. You carefully blinked your eyes open a couple of times, trying to get the herbs hanging from the ceiling into focus. Once you could make out the little flowers on the branch of lavender, you let your gaze wander. Opposite of you stood a big mirror in front of what you assumed was a closet made out of mismatched wood with intricate carvings. Yuta must have brought you back to his cabin. Which meant that you were currently laying in his bed. The thought made blood rush to your head and you instinctively hid yourself in the softness of the blanket even though no one was around to see you. Like this his smell invaded your senses. It was earthy yet spicy. Dangerous. You sighed and let the smell comfort you, closing your eyes again.

Your limbs still felt heavy but after checking quickly, the wounds on your arms were gone, not even the smallest scar left. How long had you been unconscious for? With how tired you still felt, it couldn’t have been for long, but the sun that was shining through the curtains told a different story. Outside you could hear birds chirping and if you focused just enough you could hear a cat meowing, probably Ten. Smiling you let your mind wander, letting the sounds of the animals relax you. But while you were counting your breaths to empty your mind, you couldn’t help but think that something was wrong. With every breath you took, you mind didn’t become more empty, instead you were feeling more and more: First it was just the way the blanket was scratching your bare arms and legs. Then you thought you were able to feel the herbs that were strung up to dry above your head. And somehow you could tell that Ten was no longer meowing in the garden, probably talking to Yuta but that he was walking towards the window of the bedroom.

You quickly opened your eyes and sat up straight in the bed just as his paws met the windowsill. “You’re awake,” his voice filled your head. You could just nod, staring at the cat in disbelief. How had you been able to predict that he was jumping into the room the exact moment that he did? “Feeling different yet?” Ten asked on, smoothly jumping onto the mattress. “Not really but you do,” you confessed. From up close he still looked the same but something was different. He felt bigger? Older? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But what you knew for sure now was that he wasn’t just a talking cat. Yuta had been right, Ten was much more than his body made it seem. “I’m still the same,” he chuckled, neatly folding his tail around his sitting form, “But you certainly are different.” “How can you tell?” “Just take a look at yourself.” Both scared and curious you looked up and met your reflection in the mirror but the eyes that were looking back at you, weren’t your own. Your image in the mirror eyed you with deep emerald green eyes and if the light was not tricking your eyes, your hair had changed color as well. It wasn’t as vibrant as Yuta’s but it was definitely red. “So it is true that witches have red hair,” you mumbled under your breath, raking your hands through your hair to feel the strands. “Most witches have red hair but not all with red hair are witches and warlocks,” Ten confirmed.

Just with Ten before, you had a feeling that Yuta would enter the room before the door moved to reveal his body. “It’s about time you wake up, little witch,” the warlock grumbled. Today he had his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands of his unruly hair escaping it and curling at his nape. His piercing eyes scanned over your body quickly before he met yours. “Do you feel them yet?” “Feel whom?” “The energies around you,” Yuta replied as if it was a self-explanatory thing. When you kept quiet and just looked at him from big, unknowing eyes, he groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.” “It would probably be easier, if you didn’t speak in riddles,” you mumbled under your breath but he must have caught it anyways. “Don’t give me this attitude or you won’t learn anything at all. I might be responsible for you now but I won’t feed you your lessons with silver spoon, you have to work for it. Starting now. Get dressed and meet me outside,” Yuta clarified and turned to left the room but halted in his steps. “And you won’t help her either, Ten. She needs to do this on her own.” Ten just meowed loudly and for some reason you could tell that he did not agree with how Yuta planned on training you. Were this the energies Yuta was talking about?

Once both the warlock and his companion had left the room, you quickly got dressed and headed outside only to find out that you were alone on the clearing. “Come on, this isn’t funny,” you groaned, looking around the house, “I didn’t come here to almost bleed out in a stupid ritual and then to be mocked.” But no one answered you. Yuta and Ten kept hiding. Wait, hiding? Why would they be hiding? Where did that thought come from? You let out a frustrated groan again and sat down on a patch of grass right in the middle of the clearing. “This is stupid, Yuta. I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled, picking at the grass and ripping out little pieces. But that did nothing to calm you down, it only got you more worked up for some reason.

“Take a deep breath and listen to your gut,” you heard Ten’s gentle voice resound inside your head. When you didn’t react and kept ripping out grass, he added: “Yuta is just as stubborn as you, he’ll not come out and I don’t fancy sleeping out here.” “This is so stupid!” You groaned again, letting your body fall back into the grass. When Ten didn’t answer, you took a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself back down. Why were you so irritated anyways? It really wasn’t like you. Closing your eyes, you started to count your breaths to calm your temper. That was when you felt it. Like a flame burning inside you: Bright and flickering wildly. Carefully you reached out to the flame and strangely enough it didn’t burn you, it felt welcome. Like coming home and you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you going to help me find Yuta and Ten?” You whispered. As if the flame was answering, it twitched slightly and calmed down a little. In turn you also felt calmer than you had been seconds ago. Taking another breath, you kept your eyes closed, focusing on the light your little flame shone and from your peripheral vision it seemed like there was another flame. It was a different color and seemed bigger than yours from what you could tell. Opening your eyes again, you quickly got up and walked over into the treeline where you had felt the flame.

“Are you going to throw a temper tantrum every lesson?” Yuta called you out when you had found him, lounging high in a tree eating an apple. You couldn’t fight the heat that crept up your neck, it had been rather childish in retro sight. “You gave me zero instructions,” you tried to rationalize it. “I didn’t have much more to go off from either when I gained my powers,” he argued and jumped down, “So lesson number one.” He patted down his pants once which did exactly nothing for the stains in the fabric before he placed his palm flat on your chest, making your breath hitch. “That in there is your energy. Get to know it. Learn how to read it. It’s where we draw our powers from, where every living being draws their energy from, they’re just not aware of it. If you concentrate and learn how to utilize it to your advantage, you’ll be able to feel other’s energies much more clearly and you will be able to manipulate them.” You nodded along with Yuta’s words even though you couldn’t quite grasp what it all would mean for you. “It’s overwhelming at first,” the warlock smiled, patting your chest before dropping his arm, “But I am here to help as long as you are willing to work with me and not throw a temper tantrum.” “Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling back at Yuta. “It’s thank you, master now,” he grinned. “Now go find Ten, I can tell he’s getting irritated.”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “His hiding spot is a bit far away, I’ll guide you,” Yuta promised, taking one of your hands in his and you felt warmth spread through your body, comforting you. Smiling, you took another breath. You could do this, if Yuta was there to guide you, you could learn to use your powers.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, you stayed with Yuta and Ten. The warlock taught you how to handle all the new things you were able to feel and how to manipulate the different energies around you. At night while you were lying on the little old mattress Yuta had dug up somewhere, Ten often joined you for some ear scratches and told you stories about old witches and warlocks who had become mad in their hunt for power or about incredible pioneers that had written the big spell books Yuta had yet to show you. You had gotten somewhat close with your master as well but you never quite understood him completely. One moment he seemed like he’d rather be literally anywhere else when you were struggling with molding the energies like he had both explained and showed you and the next moment he told you the most shocking made-up stories only to laugh at your face when you had actually believed him. But since he was the only other human you had contact with in a while, you grew attached to him quickly, always gravitating towards him even when he was doing mandatory tasks like cooking or cleaning (which admittedly wasn’t very often).

One rainy afternoon though, the warlock seemed more grim than usual. He had yet to teach you anything today; he had just asked you to grab a few herbs he was running low on. When you had asked Ten what was going on with Yuta, he had only given you a very cryptic answer before he had disappeared. “Something is different today,” you tried to initiate a conversation when the warlock wouldn’t talk to you while he was stirring something in a small cauldron over the fire. “What makes you think that?” “You haven’t taught me anything yet and refuse to talk to me. Ten is also nowhere to be found and he hates the rain.” “Wrong answer,” Yuta cut you off, “You’re still thinking like a regular human.” “I am still human,” you argued. At that your master just snorted, closing the lid on the copper cauldron louder than he needed to. “You’re so much more than just a human; you just need to finally acknowledge it. You came here seeking revenge on those who wronged your people and who abused their powers.” “And I still want them to pay for what they did to those girls.” “You want them gone.” It wasn’t a question. Yuta locked eyes with you: Piercing green meeting yours that were a little more muted. “They don’t deserve to keep living their lives like that. They need to be taught a lesson.” The warlock slowly nodded before he lowered the heat of the fire with a flick of his hand. “Get your cloak.” “Where are we going?” You asked, slipping on the thick fabric and following Yuta outside.

“You tell me,” he answered, motioning for the forest. “Stop toying with me.” “Use your senses, woman,” he spat, “Figure it out.” Huffing in annoyance, you closed your eyes, concentrating on your own energy that swirled inside your chest, feeling it like a small flame before you turned your eyes outward, feeling Yuta’s energy right next to you. His flame was bigger and seemingly less controlled than your own, a little deeper in color and burning hotter than yours. “Stop spying on me,” he spoke lowly, sounding almost amused. Slowly you expanded your sight, feeling the animals hiding from the rain beneath the leaves of the trees and in little caves, feeling the power of the stream that lead into the valley, feeling... Feeling something that was not right. “What is that?” You asked, trying to pinpoint where this energy was coming from. “You tell me,” Yuta spoke lowly, careful to not break your concentration. “Something isn’t right. Near the stream.” The warlock hummed, slowly approaching you to place a hand on your shoulder. Bit by bit you could feel the warmth of his powers mingle with your own, sharpening your senses, his energy guiding yours in the right direction. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only intensified but the comforting warmth of your master made you push further, looking for the source. “See it now?” “It’s a man,” you gasped, your senses almost recoiling when you found him. He was unlike any energy you had ever felt before. His energy felt off, you couldn’t quite describe it. “How does he feel?” Yuta’s low voice calmed you down again, encouraging you to look closer. “Wrong. Something is not right about him. His energy is small but it feels like it’s too warm. Like he’s about to burst.” “Do you know where he is?” “Near the bridge that leads to my town.”

“Alright,” Yuta spoke, sounding content with your analysis and you could feel his energy leave you, signalizing you to come back to the little house as well. Slowly you blinked your eyes open. “What is wrong with the man?” “He is not a good man,” your master spoke, “We’re going to kill him.” You wanted to protest, to tell him that you couldn’t just kill a man. But something, maybe a voice in the back of your head, told you that you could. And more importantly that you should. Wordlessly you followed Yuta to the path that would lead you towards the bridge.

“Remember what I told you about energies when you first felt them?” “We can neither create energy out of nowhere nor can we just make it disappear. We can just change the nature of the energy,” you recited dutifully. “And what does that tell you?” “We can’t rule over life and death.” “Not exactly,” Yuta agreed. “But you took that girl’s life when you came to heal her,” you argued. “I used up all the energy her body had left in it to heal the wounds that were hidden beneath her skin. I killed by healing her. After all her energy was used up, her heart stopped beating just like that.” “Is that what you’re going to teach me?” “No. that man’s body is healthy as far as I could tell,” Yuta shook his head, halting in his steps so you could meet his eyes again. “You might recognize him when we meet him. I need you to keep a level head and do exactly as I say or you might never get the revenge you want to get so badly.” You throat suddenly felt dryer than it had ever been and you tried to swallow down the feeling of fear that had begun to crawl up your spine.

“Swear that you’re going to do as I say,” Yuta pushed, holding out one of his arms. From what Ten had told you, Yuta was asking you to make an oath and those were not to be taken lightly. But you trusted Yuta. You trusted your master. He might have questionable methods to teach you certain things but he was a capable and strong warlock. Nodding, you held out your hand as well and he forcefully grabbed your forearm which you quickly copied. You could feel energy coming off of him, weaving around where you two were connected. “Say it.” “I swear I will do as you say as soon as we meet this man,” you said, your voice sounding deeper than it usually did, carrying a weight it only did when you tried to cast a spell. “And I will in turn swear to protect you and guide you through what we’re about to do,” Yuta promised, squeezing your arm tightly before his energy recoiled and he loosened the grip. “You’re going to make me kill him,” you breathed into the silence that stretched on. “I will,” he confirmed and turned around to keep making your way towards the strange man.

To say you were absolutely terrified was an understatement, your heart was hammering wildly inside your chest and you were sure Yuta must feel how unruly your energy was becoming. “Calm down,” he spoke, “Once you see him, you will feel differently.” “Can’t we start with something a little less drastic?” You pleaded. You weren’t ready for this. “What use does it have? You have learned everything you need to know about manipulating energies. The energy in humans is no different than the energy in a fire or in a plant and you’re doing well manipulating those. You’re ready for the next step.” “Yuta, I can’t,” you begged, swallowing down the taste of bile you suddenly had in your mouth. “You can and you’re going to,” he replied, a tone of finality in his voice, “Now be quiet, we’re almost there.” You had half a mind to scream so the man would run away when there wouldn’t be this voice in your head telling you that this man was no good. Taking a deep breath, you quickly followed your master until you arrived at the bridge, hiding between the bushes.

“He’s not far,” Yuta promised, “I’ll explain it once, listen closely: You will wait for him on the bridge. Make him stop so it’s easier for you to get a grasp on his energy. Just like you do it when you’re putting out a fire, you’re going to tug. Expect resistance because while every energy has the will to exist, human energy usually resists a little harder than just fire.” “What am I going to do with his energy?” You asked, proud that your voice wasn’t breaking. “It’s going to be a lot more energy than you can hold unlike with fires. You need to release it. Find something you can direct it to.” You bit your lip and nodded shakily. Sensing your discomfort, Yuta reached out and grabbed your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. “I’m right behind you. I swore to protect you. If you fail to redirect it, I’ll do it before it eats you alive. But I do not want you to not try. Keep a level head.” Taking a couple of beep breaths, you tried to calm down. Yuta must have his reasons he wanted you to kill this man. He wasn’t unjust. You trusted your master. “Now go out there and wait for him. Maybe stretch your senses to find something to redirect the energy to,” he smiled, making your heart flutter for completely different reasons.

Following your masters orders, you stepped out onto the bridge, pulling your hood further into your face so it would be obscured to the man and briefly stretched out your senses like Yuta had suggested. You could feel the weird energy of the man approach, accompanied by another energy that might belong to his horse. Other than that you couldn’t feel much. The safest way was probably to redirect the energy to the water flowing in the stream. You couldn’t think about any other possibilities because the sounds of hooves approached quickly, revealing the horseman. He abruptly stopped his horse when he saw you blocking his path. “Move!” He yelled but you didn’t budge. In fact you were frozen in place when you recognized the man.

He was one of the knights of the king. But not just any knight. Images from summer flashed your mind: The man had stayed at the inn when it was too late to make the travel back to the castle after he had laughed at the girl he had brought back. In the inn he had drunk enough for three men and boasted about what a great lover he was and that the women could never get enough of him. You felt rage rise inside you. This man was rotten to the core. Yuta had been right, he had no rights to live a comfortable life after he had destroyed the life of so many girls and women. “Move!” He called again but you stayed right where you were, slowly lowering your hood so he could see the dark red color of your hair. “A little witch bitch,” the knight spat, dismounting his horse, a big grin on his face, “The lord will be delighted when I bring you to him.” “You disgust me,” you growled, feeling your energy burn brighter inside you, itching to rip the rotten flame from this poor excuse of a man. Behind you, you could feel Yuta’s own energy shift but you paid it no mind. He wouldn’t interfere. This was your test.

The knight slowly approached you, step after step and you could already smell that he reeked of alcohol. “Stop right there,” you demanded, focusing on his energy. Against your expectation he actually halted in his steps before he started to laugh at you. That was it. You wouldn’t allow him to harm another person anymore. Determined, you reached out with your own energy, gripping his firmly and tugging just like you had learned it. The man promptly choked on his laugh, clutching his chest tightly, looking at you with wide eyes. His lips moved with silent pleas and it only made you feel more disgusted than you already were. How did he have the audacity to beg for forgiveness after all he had done? “You disgust me,” you spat before you tugged for a last time, feeling how the energy separated from his body that limply fell to the ground. A great sense of satisfaction filled you and you couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbled from your chest. You could feel his energy course through and around you, seemingly growing now that it wasn’t trapped anymore, latching onto your body as it was the closest living thing. The feeling was indescribable. To feel this much energy coursing through you was incredible but after a moment you knew that you couldn’t hold it, the foreign energy trying to force itself inside you alongside your own energy.

Redirect. You had to redirect it before it ate you alive. Your eyes flickered from the trees to the end of the bridge to the sky above you, covered by dark storm clouds. Without thinking too much, you balled up your own energy, giving the foreign one a firm push upwards, forcing it out of your body and towards the clouds instead. Like a thread that suddenly snapped, the energy left you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

A loud rumbling noise could be heard from above and you knew that you hadn’t made the smartest decision with where you had redirected the energy to. The next thing you felt was a firm chest that you were pressed against and the smell of burning wood and static filling the air. “My little apprentice,” Yuta whispered fondly, gently cupping your cheek. His green eyes were sparkling and if you didn’t know better, you would say that he looked proud of what you had done. “Did I do good?” You asked, looking around his shoulder to see the damage on the bridge. A flash of lightning must have hit it exactly where you and the man’s corpse had been just moments prior, the wood now black and burning. “You did better than I had ever whished for,” Yuta answered, pressing your shivering body tightly against his chest, whispering words of praise into your hair as the reality of what you had just done came crushing down to you, making your body shake with the sobs you let out. You hated yourself for crying. But you weren’t crying for the man. He had deserved what had happened to him. You were crying because it was you who had done it. You weren’t just a human anymore and Yuta had forced you to accept it. You weren’t what was considered normal. You had special powers now, dangerous powers and the only other person that could ever understand and shared the weight that came with those powers was holding you in his arms right now.

“Let’s go home,” Yuta gently spoke, pressing a kiss to your hair and you could only nod and try to not get lost in his eyes when he loosened his grip on you.

“You’re ready.” Puzzled you looked up from where you were reading in one of the big spellbooks in the armchair in front of the fire, Ten curled up in your lap. “You’re ready to get your revenge. You know all you need to know,” Yuta explained himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest where he was leaning against his kitchen counter. When you still couldn’t find the words to tell your master how you were feeling, he continued: “It’s not far to the castle from here. The lord is having a banquet in the evening; all of the royals will be gathered. It’s a great opportunity. You shouldn’t miss it. Ten can show you the way.” “You’re not coming with me?” You asked in a small voice. As much as you still wanted the royals to pay, you had thought that Yuta would help you when it came down to get your revenge. The castle was filled with guards and knights after all. How were you supposed to get in and out of there without being seen? Especially when your plan was to kill the rotten men in charge. “I told you I wouldn’t kill anyone for you. I promised to teach you everything you needed to know so you can get your revenge. And I have done that. There is much more to our powers than just this but I did what I promised and now it’s time for you to do what you need to do.” Before you could argue or voice your concerns, Ten stretched his body in your lap so he could glare at Yuta, a disapproving sound leaving his throat. “Shut up, cat,” Yuta just growled when Ten wouldn’t stop complaining, angrily hissing by now. “I don’t care what you think,” the warlock exclaimed, throwing on his cloak, “Take her to the castle.” After taking a deep breath, he turned to lock eyes with you, a sad smile playing on his lips and added: “Make me proud my little apprentice.”

With that you were left alone in Yuta’s house that had become your home as well. You couldn’t understand the words he had just said. He was throwing you out. Had it all just been this to him and nothing more? Was he just trying to fulfill his promise all these weeks? Did you mean nothing to him? “He is a headstrong idiot,” Ten sighed, his smooth voice like honey for your soul, “You belong here with us and he will realize that eventually.” “Thank you,” you whispered, scratching Ten behind his ears until his purring filled the silence of the room. “And I am not just saying that because Yuta can’t seem to get that spot right there,” he added. You couldn’t hold your giggle, fondly smiling at the cat that you had gotten so close with. “He is right about you being ready though. We should leave soon.” “I have no idea how I should get in and out though. The place must be bursting with guards,” you voiced your concerns. “You would be surprised by how careless the royals are sometimes, they think they’re invincible.” Taking a deep breath, you felt out your own energy, feeling your fire burn brighter with excitement that you could finally give the royals what they deserved. “I’ll show them just how vulnerable they still are,” you said, your voice sounding more determined than you could have wished for. “That’s my girl,” Ten cheered you on, jumping from your lap onto the floor. “I’ll bring you to the castle but I won’t be a big help in this body.” You just nodded, gathering some things you had wanted to take with you: A couple of charged gems and the little dagger Yuta had given you a while back with a slender blade but sharpened to perfection. Lastly you got your cloak to conceal your red hair and green eyes that were a dead giveaway of your true nature. “Ready?” Ten asked, waiting for you outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered, following the creature inside the forest.

When the castle came in sight, you said your farewell to Ten, squeezing his lithe body against your chest to his great dismay. Many people were bringing different things through the big gates and carriage after carriage brought in more supposedly rich and important people. For a while you just leaned against the big walls that surrounded the castle, feeling out the different energies. Of course there were the ordinary energies from the servants and most of the guards that were patrolling mostly on the high walls but the deeper you felt inside the castle, the more rotten energies you could feel, making you sick to the stomach. Your rage was only fueled when you carefully made your way into the courtyard and you could feel distressed and terrified energies further into the castle as well, some of their flames so terrifyingly small that they must belong to some kidnapped girls who were barely holding on to their life.

Waiting for a chance to slip into the more private rooms of the castle, you watched the servants scrambling around behind their masters who for the most time either ignored or scolded them and when a lady screamed at a little boy who had tripped and let some of the stuff he had been carrying drop to the floor, you couldn’t help yourself but to give her energy a quick push only enough to make her heart stutter once before she lost her footing and fell herself. The secret smile the boy quickly hid behind a blank expression was enough thanks for you.

“When is this fortune teller coming around?” One of the guards suddenly asked another one who had just come out of the castle. “She should have been here since the morning and the lord is getting restless, he is snapping at every servant who is coming into his chambers.” A fortune teller? That seemed almost too perfect to be true. Pulling your hood further into your face, you slipped from the shadows and made your way towards the guards. “Good afternoon,” you greeted the guards, honey dripping from your voice, “The lord of this castle sent for me, he wished to know about his future.” The older of the guards slowly let his gaze wander over your form before he reached out a hand to lower your hood. “Don’t,” you hissed, taking a step back. “Come on, leave her alone,” the younger groaned, “I can’t take the lord’s bad mood anymore.” The older one gave you one last once-over before he deemed you no threat and shrugged his shoulders. “You bring her to him, I’m going to the kitchens.”

If you had known how easy it would be to see the lord, you wouldn’t have been this nervous before entering the castle. “Wait in here for him,” the guard told you after he had dropped you off in a small saloon that was just filled with a big sofa and a vanity that displayed big jewels. In the middle of the room stood a small table with a crystal ball on top and you could only barely hold in your laughter. The only problem with this room was that there was nothing you could redirect the lord’s energy to once you had killed him. No fire or plants. This was anything but ideal. Hastily you sat down in front of the crystal ball when you felt the lord approach. You needed a different plan. Either you needed to let this perfect opportunity pass and try to kill him later or you had to do it without your powers. Suddenly the dagger in your pocket felt like it was as heavy as a bag of stones, the handle digging into your hand. You couldn’t let this opportunity pass. You had to take it. Even if it meant that you had to kill him like this. You could do this. This was no different than the guard you had killed.

When you felt the energy of the lord approach, you took another deep breath, searching out your energy for comfort. “Leave us alone,” the lord’s voice commanded the guard who had lead him inside and just like that you were alone with him in the room. You had never seen the lord in person and you didn’t know what you had expected but you thought that his appearance suited his energy: He was a rather small man with greasy black hair. His stomach was rounded and he smelled like he had bathed in perfume to gloss over how bad he smelled. “Finally you are here,” he spoke and even his voice was unattractive, his tone nasally and off pitch, likely from too much alcohol. You just wordlessly nodded your head, not deeming him worthy for words of greetings either. “Sit down so we can get started.” “I don’t like your attitude woman,” he snarled, looking down at you from his reddened eyes, “You are different than the last one that came.” “I have my special ways to see what the future holds for you,” you simply answered, dragging your dagger from your pocket and placing it onto the table. At that the unruly eyebrows of the man shot up. “Are you threatening me?” “I would never dare to,” you gritted, fighting the sarcasm from creeping into your tone, “But nothing is purer than what your blood could tell me.”

The lord seemed to think about your words for a while, if he was even capable of that. But his energy seemed to calm down after a while when he sat down opposite of you. “Very well,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of the gems you had and placed them on the table, “Please hold your palms up.” When the lord did as you asked, you took a deep breath and willed your hands to not shake when you were grabbing for the dagger. It was rather small in comparison to Yuta’s favorite ones but it should do its job just as good as any other dagger he had in his collection. You really hadn’t thought all of this through. But you needed to do this. For all the girls living on this lord’s lands. You weren’t close enough to him to hurt him much with the dagger and if you weren’t quick enough and he’d sense your true intentions, he would call for the guards. And when you had nowhere to redirect their energy to, you were basically helpless.

“I don’t have all day,” the lord complained when you hadn’t moved after a while. “I was concentrating on your energy, you disgusting piece of shit,” you spat out, making an on-the-spot decision to stop the charade. Quickly, before he could even completely fathom your words, you gave his energy a push to render him breathless for a while which gave you just enough time to leap over the table to ram your dagger into the fat of his neck. With a furiously beating heart, you watched his eyes widen and his throat gurgle with the blood that was flowing into his lungs and seeping from the wound when you pulled your dagger back out. Unable to move your body, you watched him convulse in pain until he stopped moving altogether, his eyes open wide and unseeing. Slowly you could feel his flame getting smaller and smaller until you couldn’t detect it anymore. You had done it. The lord was dead.

Just like the last time when you had killed, the reality came crashing back down to you after the adrenaline had seeped from your body and you felt your hand shaking that still clutched the dagger tightly. When you looked down and saw it covered in the lord’s blood, you instinctively let the dagger fall, the noise unnaturally loud in the silent room. Your breathing picked up and you felt panic rise in your chest. How were you going to get back out of here? You were drenched in blood and people would surely start to miss the lord soon. Yuta had been wrong, you weren’t ready for this. Bile rose too your mouth and tears were collecting in your eyes. You were done for; they would burn you in the courtyard while laughing at you for your foolish plan to take all the rotten royals out.

“My little apprentice,” a voice said behind you and through your tears you looked up into Yuta’s familiar face. “What are you doing here?” You sobbed, balling your blood smeared hands to fists, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought you had left me.” “Watching out for you, what else?” He smiled, pulling you away from the lord’s corpse and against his chest, not minding that you were staining his cloak with blood. His calming energy engulfed you like a cloud and slowly evened out your own untamed energy and eventually helped you to even out your breathing. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” you mumbled when your tears had stopped falling, growing basically boneless in Yuta’s hold. “We’re going to take care of them together,” Yuta promised, pressing a kiss to your hair before he loosened his hold on you and took a look around the lord’s room, picking up some of the expensive looking jewelry that was laying around.

“The banquet has already begun,” you spoke after you had felt out the remaining rotten energies, all bundled up in the big hall, “They will become suspicious if he’s not coming down soon.” “I have always had a thing for dramatic entrances,” the warlock grinned, loosening his cloak so it fell to the ground, “How about we interrupt this boring dinner they are having right now and heat this place up a little? There is this nice little fire in the fireplace to keep them warm but I feel like it could use a little more energy.” His words made you mirror the wicked grin that had started to spread on his lips. “Lead the way,” you spoke, ready to teach all the rotten royals a lesson. With Yuta by your side, you knew that you couldn’t fail.

Together you stood in front of the burning castle, a little further up the hill and hidden by trees, listening to the people screaming in agony. When you turned your head to look at Yuta, the orange flames of the fire beautifully illuminated his features despite the ashes that were clinging to his cheeks and the fact that he was missing half an eyebrow that must have gotten burned off, his lips crooked into a cocky grin. “Nothing more beautiful than the chaos some little flames can cause,” he spoke before he tore his gaze from the castle and looked at you instead. Tenderly he reached out to wipe the splatters of blood on your cheeks away, just smearing them further onto your skin in the process. “You look beautiful like this,” he whispered, his green eyes sparkling dangerously. “I’m a mess,” you argued, feeling how the blood on your hands was slowly drying. “The most beautiful mess I have ever seen.” Before you could argue any further, the warlock connected your lips in a bruising kiss, pressing your body close to his. He tasted of smoke, blood and danger but to you it tasted like the most intoxicating drink you ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“What are you doing, Yuta?” You breathed against his lips when his hands had slipped beneath your shirt, nails raking over the skin of your stomach. “Unleashing your full powers,” he groaned, all but ripping the garment over your head before roughly connecting your lips again. “What do you mean?” “Stop asking so many questions,” the warlock growled, sucking harshly on the skin of your neck, obviously not bothered by the blood clinging to your skin. You could just mewl and desperately clutch onto him, afraid your legs would give out. Once Yuta was satisfied with how dark the mark on your neck had turned he gripped your hair to yank your head back so he could kiss you again. Still high on the adrenaline from before, you shamelessly moaned into his mouth when he kept your strands of hair in a firm grip to angle your head just how he wanted. Grinning against your lips, he used his chance to slip his tongue between your parted lips, turning the kiss downright filthy. “Yuta,” you sighed when he parted from you, both of you panting heavily while staring into each other’s green eyes. Blood was smeared onto both of your faces now and you had stained his shirt with the blood clinging to our hands. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his hands wandering to where the wrappings around your chest were fastened, “Tell me to unleash your full potential, my little witch.” Before you could answer, he leaned in to steal another kiss while he tugged on the cloth that had kept your breasts covered. “You don’t even know how fucking hot you are like this,” he groaned against your lips, roughly grabbing your boobs to massage the soft flesh, sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Do it,” you moaned, arching your back towards the warlock, “Do it, Yuta.”

A deep growl came from his chest and with quick movements he rid himself of his singed shirt and stepped out of his pants to stand before you completely naked safe for the ashes and blood clinging to his skin. His cock was already hard and hanging heavy between his legs. With a dangerous smile on his spit slicked lips, he crowded you against the trunk of a tree, the bark digging roughly into your back. With only so much as a flick of his wrist, the warlock had you naked as well and raked his widely blown eyes over the exposed skin. “My little witch, so beautiful,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the mark he had created on your neck, making you hiss in both pain and pleasure. Chuckling he grabbed one of your thighs to wrap it around his waist, exposing your most private part to him. But before you even had time to think about what you were about to do and how improper it was, Yuta had snaked a hand between your bodies to cup your sex, slowly grinding the heel of his palm in your clit which tore a loud moan from your lips that mingled with the screams you could still hear in the distance.

A grin spread on Yuta’s lips when you threw your head back and moaned unashamed when one of his fingers played around your entrance, teasing but never slipping inside, making more and more wetness seep from your core. “You want it?” He asked, pinching the skin of your thigh that he still held tightly to get your attention. “I already told you to do it,” you whined, grinding your hips in an attempt to finally make his finger slip inside you. “When will my little apprentice finally learn to answer my questions properly?” He sighed, bringing his hand down on your wet folds, creating a wet slapping noise that brought blood to your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure made your head swim even more than the adrenaline had minutes ago. “Answer your master,” Yuta growled, bringing his hand down a second time, causing you to jolt in his hold. “Do it already,” you groaned, burying your hands in his unruly red hair to kiss him again, wasting no time to lick into his mouth. If anything you were a fast learner and tried to match Yuta in the kiss. While you were distracted with kissing the life out of him, he finally slipped one of his fingers inside you, making you gasp and break the kiss. “Feels good?” He grinned as he began to move his finger at a steady pace before quickly adding a second one, stretching you out. “Yeah, feels good, master,” you breathed. You could feel Yuta’s breath hitch against your lips before he let out a row of colorful curses, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “Say it again,” he growled. “Say what again?” You hiccupped, holding onto his shoulders tightly, the pleasure making your head swim. “Call me your master,” the warlock growled, crooking his fingers inside you so you saw stars behind your eyes, punching all air from your lungs. “Master, please,” you choked out, burying your nails in his shoulder to drag them down his back, leaving angry red lines and a trail of smeared blood.

Cursing, Yuta pulled his fingers from your core, making a distressed mewls leave your lips. He just chuckled breathlessly at your reaction but before you had the time to even feel ashamed, you felt the blunt head of his cock slip inside you, the feeling so foreign and overwhelming that you had to close your eyes. Yuta slowly pushed inside deeper and deeper until your bodies were as flush together as the position was allowing you to. “Fuck you’re squeezing me so tightly,” Yuta cursed and breathed heavily into your ear. You could only mewl instead of answering properly; you had never felt like this in your entire life. You felt your energy bounce around wildly in your chest, slowly expanding and turning deeper in shade. But before you had any chance to take a closer took, Yuta pulled his hips back and thrust right back into you, pulling loud moans from both of you. “You feel it?” He groaned, slowly picking up his pace, “Feel how your powers grow?”

“I couldn’t care less about any of my powers right now,” you whined, yanking Yuta close by the hair on his nape to crash your lips together to stop yourself from moaning out loudly. “So feisty,” he breathlessly chuckled against your lips, “Hold on tightly.” In a heartbeat he had twirled you around to lay you down into the grass instead. Watching your expression closely, he thrust back inside you, causing you to moan loudly with how deep he was inside you now. The feeling was so overwhelming that you clamped your thighs tightly around his frame and threw your head back with a loud moan. “That’s it, let me hear you,” the warlock moaned, caging you between his arms before he started to move his hips in quick thrusts that made stars spark behind your closed eyelids. You didn’t have any brainpower left to even remotely feel embarrassed by how loud you were being, instead digging your fingers into Yuta’s shoulders to pull him back down into a messy kiss that was more tongue and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else.

“Look at me my little witch,” Yuta panted when his trusts were getting erratic and you felt like the energy inside you was ready to burst and explode in thousand little stars. Just when your emerald eyes met his piercing gaze and you saw how his eyes were filled with so much more than just lust, you couldn’t help yourself anymore and let go of the coil inside your stomach, letting the pleasure overwhelm your body while moaning your master’s name. Seconds after you heard Yuta moan your own name while he pressed inside you for one last time, his back arched and lips parted. Around you, the air was buzzing with energy, almost singing with how potent it was. For a while you just looked at each other, breathing heavily, silly smiles on both of your lips before Yuta leaned down to connect them in a tender kiss.

“You two disgust me,” a familiar voice suddenly broke the delicate silence but this time it wasn’t inside your head. When both Yuta and you looked to the side, you saw a slender man with jet black hair sitting in the grass not far from you, looking back at you with familiar amber eyes. “But I can’t say I hate what you managed to do,” Ten added, looking at his delicate hands. “Go stare at some other people fucking, you creep,” Yuta growled, covering your body with his. “But I finally had something different to see than you sadly beating your meat or trying out questionable spells,” Ten teased, poking out his tongue. “If you don’t leave right now, I will find a way to trap you inside a frog next time.” “I’d love to see you try, honey,” Ten laughed before he actually left to give you some privacy.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled into Yuta’s chest where you had hidden your face that must have the same color as his hair at this point. “Don’t mind him,” Yuta smiled, kissing your forehead, then your nose and both of your cheeks before pecking your lips. “I can’t look Ten in the eyes anymore,” you groaned, making the warlock laugh. “Let’s not talk about him when I’m still inside you,” Yuta whispered, grinding your hips together to prove his point. “Let’s make him wait for a bit longer.”

#yuta #nct #nct 127 #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta fic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #halloween au #halloween series #yuta fluff #yuta mystery #yuta smut #nct smut

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ladyeliot · 4 years ago

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I’ll fix it

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader.

Summary: Everything changed the day Tony Stark felt your body fall apart in his hands, from then on a struggle to try to bring you back to him began.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death. Time travel.

Word count: 6283

A/N: Avengers Endgame. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader’s abilities: Master Martial Artist, experienced in espionage, talented Hacker.

There was a turning point in Tony Stark’s life, that moment when everything changed, when like ashes you scattered through space, when your body disappeared leaving motes of your essence in his hands.

The battle to save humanity was lost the moment the time stone, protected by Doctor Strange, found its way into Thanos’ Gauntlet, leaving only a single chance to deal with a successful end to the final battle. All of you present had led the fight with acuity, but there was little you could do, you knew that as you fell one by one. Your bodies lay in the ruins of the once superpowered planet, waiting for someone with the will to continue fighting death, Tony was the last one standing until Thanos managed to strip him of his own Iron Man suit, stabbing him in the side with the sword Tony had created with his nanonites. Something snapped inside you, causing the relentless pain in your joints to fade and you managed to get up, before the wizard offered him the last stone and Quill unsuccessfully tried to stop him before Thanos vanished.

“Tony,” you whispered awkwardly reaching out to him, wrapping your arms around his body.

The exhaustion was such that you both let yourselves fall and ended up sitting in the ashes of that place. You brought your faces close together, facing each other, letting them rest, feeling your connection again. The bruises showed what you had suffered, open wounds that allowed blood to spread freely over every part of your face. You had just lost too much, it was a break between before and after, but the one thing you couldn’t bear to lose was him. Tony covered his cut with the last of his remaining nanonites, expressing an inward groan of relief, allowing himself to think again about what had happened.

“Why would you do that?” he muttered pleadingly, looking at Strange, who stood a few feet away from you.

“We are in the endgame now.”

That had a meaning, only Vision’s name came to mind, he was the only one who could stop that, the one who possessed the last stone, the mind stone.

Little by little, the reunion of those present was the only thing that eased the pain, you were all there, none of you had suffered worse consequences. The silence of the planet made your skin crawl, warning that this could happen to the earth if the snapping were to happen. You and Tony stumbled to your feet, watching as Peter came to you.

“Something’s happening,” your gaze connected with Mantis who had just said those words.

You had never felt so much fear inside you, until you saw how his body seemed to extrapolate and turn into ashes that disappeared moments later. The mental and bodily blockade came over everyone present, the terror professing itself through their features. Tony’s fingers clung to your right arm, barely moving from where Mantis was before he vanished.

You all looked around anxiously, hoping to find some answer to the event that had just occurred, but you only saw Drax turning to ashes, joint by joint disappearing.

“Quill?” Drax looked at him as little by little his friend’s body parts dissolved.

“Steady, Quill,” with those words Tony increased the pressure of his fingers on your arm, showing his own insecurity.

“Aw, man,” Quill whispered before melting into the wind.

It had happened, no one could have stopped him, Thanos had gotten the five infinity stones and had done the snap. No one present had any idea how it had happened, but it was clear, your worst fears had been realised.

“Tony,” Strange muttered, causing the few of you present to focus your gaze on him. “There was no other way.”

And so it was that another one turned to ashes. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Mr. Stark?” Tony and you noticed that Peter was starting to wobble, your gazes were horrified at him. “I don’t feel so good…”

“You are all right,” Tony’s words sounded confident, but hid the fear he felt inside.

“I don’t know what’s – I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t–” Peter managed to reach you, falling into Tony’s arms, who wrapped his arms around him and pinned him to the ground. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please. Please, I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go…” his voice was broken with sobs. “I’m sorry.”

You walked away from the scene, holding your hands to your face as you watched your partner’s body disappear, leaving a void in its place. So, in that moment you realised that your terror was based on the loss of your loved ones, of your family that they had become, you were not afraid of disappearing, you were afraid of them disappearing. You staggered a few steps away, unable to come to terms with what you were witnessing at that very moment, although you didn’t have time either, as a faint tingling sensation appeared in your lower extremities.

“Tony…” a faint tone came from within you, but his reaction was immediate.

“No,” he said, standing up.

You’d never seen him look at you like that before, it broke you to contemplate his watery eyes and fully dilated pupils, expressing desperation, being unable to do anything about it to stop it.

“I…” your voice trailed off.

“I got you, I got you,” his voice was broken, but rigid. “I- I promise I’ll fix this, I’ll fix this.”

You could feel his arms around your body with intensity, the warmth of his body reaching yours, but it was only an instant before you stopped feeling everything and disintegrated into ashes in his hands.

The secular emptiness came a few seconds later to Tony, it was the moment when he understood what had happened and what it meant. He belonged to that 50% of the population that had a second chance, but you were that 50% that had turned to dust from one instant to the next. A feeling indescribable to his mind invaded every inch of his body, he was lost, looking around him, hoping that it was all a nightmare from which he could wake up, but it was clear that he was living in real life, because you were not the only one who disappeared. Completely shattered, he walked through the ruins looking for an answer, some sign to hold on to, to tell him what to do, but it never came.

Time became his enemy, what happened made him realise that every step without you is a moment of his life lost. First it was days, then weeks, then months, then years, he spent a long period of time working against the clock, looking for a way to solve what happened, to come back to you. Thousands of ideas were discarded without coming to a definitive conclusion that could counteract the effects of the snap. Tony knew that if he gave up it would mean losing you forever, the life you had imagined so many times, which you never got to because of the countless missions and obstacles along the way. You were almost on the verge of touching it with your fingers once, after all that happened in Sokovia and the signing of agreements you opted to embrace the simple life, but Thanos and the stones came along and shattered your lives.

Tony had converted the cabin he built for you and didn’t have time to show you, into his own lair. He spent the hours locked away, barely sleeping, at least for the first four years, then he declined, until one day, the light seemed to brighten and his old companions appeared, offering him one last chance to get what he was looking for.

“Now, we know what it sounds like…” Scott was leaning against the wooden porch.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve looked at him with concern, Tony’s appearance had deteriorated over the years. He looked exhausted and full of unresolved doubts.

“I must say I sometimes miss this foolish optimism,” he grimaced, a grimace resembling a smile. “Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” his tone rose. “In Layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home.” he paused. “What do you think I’ve been doing for these five years? Do you think I haven’t thought about it already?”

“I came back,” Scott interjected.

“No, you accidentally survived,” Tony cut him off. “It’s a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a…. What do you call it?”

“A time heist?” said Scott smiling nonchalantly.

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course,” Tony frowned putting his index finger to his lips. “Why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable? Because it’s a pipedream?”

“When did you give up?” cut Steve off with rudeness in his tone of voice. “When did you give up? When did you give her up?”

Those were the words that made Tony rise from his seat, tilt his face to one side and force his facial expression.

“You have no idea,” she approached him, pointing her index finger at him. “Where have you been for these five years? Creating an armada of joint therapy groups? Has that helped?”

“Tony…” Natasha interjected, but he barely paid attention.

“While you were out here with your army of crybabies I was out here, day after night trying to find a solution to undo this mess we’ve created,” Tony paused, clenched his jaw and sighed deeply. “So don’t come to me now and say I’ve given it all up for lost.”

It was clear that Steve knew how to set Tony’s mind in motion, he knew where it hurt and how he could reignite their old friendship, it only took him naming you for him when the group left to pick up on every loose end he had created over those last few years.

It was hours of thought processes, of proposing to himself the quantum possibilities that could work, but more importantly the consequences, what could happen and what number of percentages existed to bring you all back. It didn’t take him long to come up with a way out, completely illogical to anyone except those who were as crazy as he was. So it was that after all this time he arrived at the New Avengers facility.

“Why the long face?” the car stopped in front of Steve. “Let me guess, it turned him into a baby.”

“Among other things,” Steve shoved his hands into his trousers pockets and looked straight ahead. “What are you doing here?”

“Not giving her up,” Tony shrugged and got out of the car, introducing himself to Steve, who smiled. “Mind you, I don’t plan to participate in any of your open tears.”

That opened a process of slow reconstruction of the events of the past years. It opened wounds, showed the aftermath, but also reunited all the Avengers who had managed to survive Thanos’ snap. The important thing is that there were enough Pym particles for a round trip for everyone present. But the important thing was to find out where the stones were located depending on the time.

They were fortunate, or rather lucky, that three of the stones met at one point in their own history in New York City, precisely during the Chitauri invasion. That was bound to cause a bitter memory for Tony, but it suddenly changed when he found out what it meant, he would go back there, he would do that mission, and you would be there. You were there when in 2012 the Avengers faced the invasion in New York, it was your first mission, when you were all recruited, when you met for the first time.

“Okay, we have a plan,” Steve reported after he had organised the teams. All eyes were focused on a screen showing the stones and their location. “Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

It was clear that what they were about to face was something completely new, none of them had had time to perhaps acquire the necessary skills to tackle this new job, new mission. It was back to the past, at least they had the advantage of knowing what the future held, of knowing what would be in store for them if they failed to succeed in their tasks.

“Five years ago, we lost.” Steve began a speech to his colleagues positioned in circles on the starting platform. “All of us. We lost friends… We lost family… We lost a part of ourselves,” Steve and Tony’s eyes met. “Today, we have a chance to take it all back.” he paused slightly. “You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re gonna win,” silence filled the room.“Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

After those words, which were encouraging for all the events that were to follow, a space loop embraced each of them, transporting them through time and space, rendering their matter insignificant. Their bodies separated between space cavities transporting them to the right time.

Tony, along with Bruce, Steve and Scott, appeared in an alleyway in New York City in 2012. The smell of dust and molten iron wafted into their nasal cavities. Everything around him was in ruins, the great skyscrapers looked like they were part of a film of the earth’s extinction, it reminded him of some of his worst fears, but it didn’t distract him because he knew how it was going to end.

“We all have our tasks,” Steve informed them, looking around at an overturned car. “Two stones on the outskirts, one in the centre. Keep a low profile,” he shifted his gaze to Tony, who nodded, raising his hands. “Keep an eye on the time.”

Given the orders the group made a point of dispersing, but Steve held Tony’s arm for a second, focusing his gaze on him.

“Are you going to be all right?” His blue eyes showed concern, including his voice as well.

“Of course,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve been through this once, I can do it again.”

With that said, Tony attached the Iron Man suit to his body and disappeared from the scene. Although his statement exuded self-assurance, he seemed to crumble a little when he reached the top of the Chrysler Building, finding himself in front of Stark Tower. His android vision allowed him to take in the scene taking place on the top floor of his old Tower. There stood the group of Avengers, surrounding Loki, holding him back, he knew that moment as if he had lived it only yesterday, but what almost made his heart stop was to find your figure there. The thrusters of his suit brought him closer to the Tower, accessing the interior through one of the open windows and keeping himself hidden behind some sculptures.

The suit disappeared from his body, becoming Tony Stark again, it was almost unheard of for him, there you were, as if time had never passed. His steps were slow, but he seemed to be completely lost, watching your every move, as if he had no job to do, and his only mission was to watch you. He could not escape the hundreds of memories that came back to him, he even felt guilty about numerous things he had said, done, or not said and done.

“Alright, who gets the wand?” you said holding up Loki’s sceptre.

Your words at that moment came to 2023 Tony with a wide smile, to hear your voice so close to him again and not through any electronic device made a lump form in his throat.

“Are you all right, dude?” Scott cut the moment short.

Tony realised at that very moment that Scott had been on his right shoulder the entire time, a fact that brought all his senses back into focus on the scene he was reliving. The lift opened, ushering in the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who were actually Hydra, but none of you knew it at the time.

“All right, you’re up, little buddy. There’s our stone,” Tony whispered to Scott.

“All right,” Scott took up position on his partner’s shoulder. “Flick me.”

There Scott’s mission began, and he made his way to the Tony of the past to join him. The scene on the top floor of Stark Tower continued as if nothing strange was going on.

“You got it?” you asked the past Tony, watching as he put the tesseract into the briefcase.

“Yep,” he replied, closing the case and looking at you with a half smile.

“By the way, how about that drink afterwards Miss Y/L/N?”

“Interesting that you can think of a drink Mr. Stark,” you said crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, when I buy someone a drink I’m not just thinking about drinking,” he winked at you to which you narrowed your eyes and headed towards the lift with the other companions. “Is that a yes?”

“Well I try,” muttered the Tony of the present to himself, who inevitably couldn’t hold back a smile as he saw with his own eyes that moment and your way of rejecting it, for it was the beginning of too many things. So, as you all disappeared down the lift he too made his way to his new assigned position.

“ Okay, Cap, I got our scepter in the elevator just passing the 80th floor,” he informed Steve over the intercom. “I’ll head down the hall.”

Steve had his mission, to get the sceptre by pretending to be a Hydra agent in front of those who really were and were now guarding the briefcase. Meanwhile, Tony took over one of the security uniforms of the Shield agents, to impersonate one of them and get the briefcase that had the tesseract inside that was now in the possession of the former Tony.

The avengers arrived at the lobby, Scott in thumb size’, that’s what Tony liked to call him, had to get inside the reactor of his victim to produce a small shock, and so everyone would focus their gaze on the old Tony, while the one from 2023 got hold of the briefcase, but things didn’t go as planned.

“I’m looking forward to going to Shawarma Palace,” Tony was standing next to you, “We could take it as our first date, what do you think?”

“Interesting,” you said, barely looking at him but with a slight smile on your face, “It’ll be great to say that genius billionaire Tony Stark asked me out for shawarma on our first date.”

“You forgot about philanthropist and Playboy,” he added, raising an eyebrow.“So that’s… Oh, Mr. Secretary!”

The conversation with Shield’s superior began, it was the ideal time where Scott had the opportunity to carry out his mission, for the tesseract was disappearing at that moment, and it would be tricky to access it again.

“All right, move it, Stuart Little. Things are getting dicey up here. Let’s go,” Tony informed Scott over the intercom.

It looked like everything was going down the drain, as Scott was in trouble for giving him a cardiac arrhythmia, however, everyone was stunned when at that moment Tony’s body stopped, and then began to convulse and fall to the ground. Your expression suddenly changed, as did the others.

“Tony?” you asked, dropping down beside Tony, worried about what was happening to him.

“Medics!” exclaimed the Tony Stark of 2023, taking in the scene. “You guys, some help!”

“Talk to me,” you said grabbing his face, which was completely flushed since he couldn’t breathe.

“Aw, she’s worried,” the present Tony muttered to himself.

“Is that the machine in your chest?” Thor, who was standing next to him, asked.

Meanwhile Scott, who had emerged from the reactor in the chest of the Tony of the past, pushed hard on the briefcase so that the Tony of the future could take it in his hands and go in search of a way out, but in that instant the Hulk suddenly appeared knocking Tony down, opening the briefcase, making the tesseract fly out and land at the feet of Loki who took it in his hands and disappeared.

“Come on Tony breathe,” you said looking at Thor hoping he would do something about it.

“I’ll try something, but I don’t know if it will work,” Thor brought his hammer to Tony’s chest, specifically the reactor and offered him a small shock, bringing the air back into his lungs. “Yes!”

“Whew, that worked a treat,” he said between gasps, looking at both of us. “Dude, that was crazy,” he thought. “The case.”

“Uhh, the case is…” Thor looked around.

“Where is the case?” you asked getting up trying to intercept him with your gaze.

“Where is Loki?” exclaimed Thor. “Loki!”

Meanwhile, ten meters away from the scene, the Tony from the future was completely knocked to the ground, after the Hulk knocked him down.

“Oh, we blew it,” Tony said without barely getting up, listening to all the conversation you had a few feet away.

The Tony of the future got up and opted to walk through the door leading to the stairs before anyone noticed him, for due to the Hulk’s untimely and shocking appearance, there were hardly any people left in the hall, apart from the Avengers and the Shield agents, of which he was undercover. However, as he was walking down a long corridor on the third floor, something stopped him.

“Excuse me agent,” your voice appeared as if it were an apparition behind him, causing him to stop his steps. “I must ask you to stay in the hall, we need to question everyone present in case we find evidence of what just happened.”

This was completely new, Tony hadn’t experienced it, he didn’t know what was going to happen or how he would best act on this occasion, but he knew that if he turned around you would most likely recognise him, as the black helmet and goggles barely covered his face, leaving the lower part of his face uncovered. At the same time, you kept a SIG Sauer P226 in your hand just at hip level, waiting at all times to watch the reactions of the man in front of you.

“Of course,” said Tony, changing his tone of voice slightly, making it deeper than usual, but still he just kept his position, his back to you.

“Could you turn around and come with me?” you asked with a frown, brushing your fingers over the gun and feeling a bad feeling inside you, for there was something that didn’t sit right with you.

Tony took a deep breath and lowered his face, there were a thousand ideas running through his mind right now, he didn’t know which one was worse than the last, so he connected several pieces and took one that would produce some personal gain, for worse than they were already, perhaps, things couldn’t get any worse.

“Are you sure?”

Slowly Tony’s body turned 180 degrees to face you. His features were obvious, his brown eyes accompanied by honey-coloured flecks, his beard so neatly trimmed, and those full lips, all 100% Tony Stark. But it was obvious to you that this was a trap, Loki had disappeared and you were aware of his every ability to deceive, after all he was the master of mischief. You didn’t stop for a moment to take the gun in your hands and point it firmly in his face, you had a clean shot.

“Loki…” you whispered frowning and squinting one eye to improve your aim.

“Not exactly,” Tony held up his hands retreating back a step, but showing no nervousness at all at the situation. “God, how I resent you mistaking me for him.”

It was at that precise moment, when he had you two metres away pointing a gun to his head, that he realised how long those five years had been, five years without being able to look at your face, without hearing your voice, without your caresses, without your kisses… for which he would die in those moments of your gunshot. He found himself with his hands raised, his body totally paralysed and his lips half-open, in love with you. You were not really the woman he had left behind, it was 2012 and many of your features were changed, but it was you.

“Where is the tesseract?” you asked, bringing him back to his senses. “What have you done with it?”

“That’s what I want to know,” he replied casually and slowly lowered his hands, knowing that bullet wasn’t going to be fired at him.

Tony’s mind worked fast, he was quick in his thoughts and in his actions, although sometimes that could get him into serious trouble because of the consequences of his actions, so he had no idea what he was doing at that moment, because his whole body was begging him to have a meeting with you and so he did. Now it was time to figure out where to go with the situation, but Tony was not a great planner, he flowed with time.

“By the way, did you get rid of that damn FBI agent yet? What was his name?” Tony knew how to test you to make you realise he wasn’t Loki. “Ah yes, Agent Chatter, god, how I hated him. I would have loved to see you spill champagne all over his scalp.”

“How do you… How do you know that?” your voice sounded gruff, but quizzical at the same time, even though you had no intention of conversing with him you were curious as to how the hell he had found out that information, as Tony was the only one who called Matthew ‘Agent Chatter’.

“You told me,” he said taking a step towards you, closing the distance, causing you to back away. “I told you, I’m not Loki.”

“I’ve never told anyone what happened with Matthew,” your breath hitched as you realised you didn’t understand what was going on.

“Well, you haven’t really told me yet,” he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to one side.

You remained thoughtful for a couple of seconds. “I know exactly what you’re doing,” you tightened your grip on the gun, your hands beginning to sweat. “Your mind games aren’t going to work on me.

The moment was complex to explain, Tony had hundreds of possibilities to offer you in that moment and for you to discover that it wasn’t Loki in front of you, he knew how he could deal with the situation, but he wanted you to be the one to figure it out for yourself. He was playing with fire, he knew better than anyone how space-time worked, but he had an ace up his sleeve, an ace that Steve was carrying at that moment and he would use it later.

Tony slowly brought his hands to his face, causing you to fix your aim again with his moments, you feared what he might do next, for anything was to be expected with Loki, but Tony merely removed his helmet and goggles, dropping them to the ground exposing his full face to you.

A strange feeling came over your body, it was obviously a familiar face, you had spent numerous hours with Tony Stark in the previous weeks, but it wasn’t really your Tony standing before you. The features looked aged, more wrinkles were in the key parts of his face, grey hair was showing through his hair and also in his beard. Concentrating on analysing each of his features made you soften your grip on the gun.

"It’s me,” he murmured, making another attempt to move towards you, and succeeded, bringing the barrel of the gun down on his chest, clattering against his reactor. He gingerly reached out his arm, reaching up to your face and brushing aside a lock of your hair. “I can’t explain too much, but…”

“Tony?” a new voice joined your encounter, snapping you out of your abstraction. “What are you doing?”

Again you put distance between you and Tony, wary of what had just happened and rather guilty for letting yourself be bamboozled by Loki. You looked at the Captain who was coming from the far end of that long hallway and was just now standing metres away from you.

“It’s not Tony, Captain, it’s one of Loki’s tricks,” you explained without looking away from Tony who was looking at Steve a little guilty about the situation that had been created. “Captain, warn the others, inform them that we have Loki on the third floor of the west wing.”

“I. Am. Not. Loki,” Tony qualified each of his words somewhat irritated that you still believed it was Loki. “Can you tell her Cap?”

“Tony, what the hell are you doing?” Steve used a gruff tone, now the one who sounded irritated was him, as he was unaware of where Tony’s plans were headed.

“Shit,” Tony whispered turning his gaze towards him.“When they put that serum in your veins they offered you the gift of inopportunity, didn’t they?”

For you everything was much more confusing, your quick analysis of the situation and the two figures that stood before you had many gaps of information. You knew those guys, you had spent more hours of your life with them than with your family, you had studied them, you had analysed them and really that Steve and Tony that were before you were not the same guys, and there was only one Loki, both could not be Loki, at least within your logic, although with Loki anything goes. But what you realised was that the captain was holding the sceptre, why was the captain holding the sceptre right now?

“I’m sorry Tony, but we have to go,” he repeated firmly, which brought you back to reality.

“I don’t think either of you are going anywhere,” you quickly pulled a new pistol from the back of your suit, two guns for two people standing in front of you.

That elicited a sigh of disgust from Steve, who raised his hands, raising the sceptre in one hand and the shield in the other, halting his stride in his tracks.

“What was your bright idea Tony?” he asked seriously.

“I don’t know Cap, you know I like to improvise,” he shrugged his shoulders without taking his eyes off you, raising his hands and giving you a wide and warm smile, which didn’t affect you at all.

“Great, so improvise if you don’t want me to,” Steve sentenced him without moving from his position.

“She’s mine,” Tony slowly brought his hand to his chest, where he offered himself a couple of taps and the armour ran over every millimetre of him, covering his limbs.

Was Loki really capable of that? Confusion engulfed you, it had all your senses alert, your mind asking a hundred questions you couldn’t answer. But if it’s not any of them Loki who are they?

Tony looked at Steve’s sceptre, that was the only key way out he could think of, but since he had laid all his cards on the table, he wasn’t going to leave without doing one thing first, so he started to close the gap with you.

“If you take one more step…” you began to say, backing down the long corridor of Stark Tower.

“Honey, surely my 2012 self would punch me if he knew his 2023 self was going to do what I’m about to do,” he started to approach you which made you stand on guard, “since I’d take all the credit away from him, because he won’t do it for another two years or so, but…” between the words and his approach you blocked and pulled the trigger of the gun pointed at him, causing the bullet to hit and fall to the ground. “Hey! That hurt, well, not physically, but you just hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t come any closer…” you muttered, aiming both pistols at Iron Man’s armour.

Your gesture was profoundly in vain, as your footsteps stopped and Tony was close enough to grab the pistols tightly and wrestle them out of your hands, throwing them into the distance, unable for you to avoid. At that exact moment, Iron Man’s suit disappeared, allowing you to look at him again, much closer than the first time. You didn’t know if it was a mind game, but you could almost feel a strange connection between your gazes, the way he looked at you as if he wanted to tell you something, as if he was hiding a long way in them.

“God, I’d almost forgotten what your face…” Tony’s words were inconclusive, but he voiced a smile at the end of them.

What? you wanted to ask out loud, it was so strange, so incomprehensible to you that you were almost terrified at that moment. His eyes looked at you as if they had known you all your life, as if you had lived too many moments together to remember them all, and you just wanted to ask him about it, but you did not. Tony’s arm was around your waist before you could even react and he pulled you close to him, his lips firmly against yours. For Tony it was one of the best sensations of his life, every limb seemed to fill with energy, his skin bristled, he placed his other hand on your back preventing you from fleeing if you had any intention of doing so. He felt your body scent envelop him again after so many years away from you and it brought a lump to his throat. He didn’t want to separate from you, he couldn’t separate from you, he was terrified inside, he could hardly move his lips, for he feared you would run away if he did.

On your part it was something completely unexpected that you didn’t know how to carry out, it seemed that your common sense was lost somewhere, as if it had extrapolated from your body and didn’t act. Your eyes remained open for the first few seconds, observing the nothingness, but when you felt his second hand on your back to bring you closer to him, they closed very slowly, as if you expected to receive an answer from this act to your numerous doubts. You held still, with no intention of separating yourself from him. You wouldn’t deny that you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss Tony Stark, but that wasn’t the Tony Stark you knew.

It was time that decided when to end it, Tony’s face was the one that put distance, but his minus was still glued to your back. He leaned his forehead against yours, exposing his ragged breath against your face.

“Who are you?” you whispered against his lips without opening your eyes yet.

Tony pulled back a few inches, opened his eyes and brought his hands to your face analysing every facial feature before him, running his thumb over your cheeks and lips.

“I promise I’ll fix it,” he whispered feeling himself. “It’ll be all right.”

“What… What will be alright?” your hesitation felt present in your words, it was incomprehensible what he was saying.

“I…” began Tony.

As if the breath stopped in your lungs, you took one last exhale before everything went dark and you hips surrendered in Tony’s arms. The tip of the sceptre had grazed your body causing you to enter a deep sleep from which when you awoke you would possibly think that everything you had experienced was a dream, or that it was really Loki who was playing with you.

“It would have been rather more gentlemanly of you to let me do it,” Tony looked at Steve spitefully as he held your body in his hands.

A fearful sigh escaped Tony’s lips as he carefully laid your body on the floor and ran his palm over his face, facing a voice that told him he couldn’t leave.

“Tony, we can’t leave any loose ends,” Steve whispered as he watched Tony continue to hold you in his arms. “I know how much you want to get back to her. So the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you’ll be reunited,” Steve rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “By the way, where do you have the tesseract?”

“Interesting question…”

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

Shine a Light, part 6

A Loki series/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

He is already spinning around and bracing himself as his boots touch the concrete, half expecting to see the beast come tumbling towards him.

But the air is mercifully still where the door has snapped shut.

The evening sky above him is heavy with clouds, and a light mist of cool rain touches his face.

Cool.

He looks down at his hands. They are still shaking from the adrenaline, but no longer blue. Nor do his clothes feel rough against his skin.

Did he consciously change back to his Asgardian form as he went through the door? He is not sure. Whatever the shape or shade, his body feels oddly disconnected from his brain and Loki idly wonders if using the tempad so much within a short time span might be affecting him on a cellular level.

Then again, if that was the case would the Minute Men and analysts at the TVA not have been suffering from chronic time travel fatigue?

Who knows, perhaps they did. A number of them certainly looked worn out.

Tempad “jetlag” (an apt mortal word) or not, unwillingly running into variants upon variants of old enemies on this treacherous timeline coupled with the incessant longing for her has caused Loki’s grip on reality to slip ever more from one destination to the next.

What reality? a mocking voice in his head whispers, sounding maddingly similar to the little devil clock.

You have no idea where you are, who you are or where you’re going. You’re a man out of time, for all time, always.

He straightens and draws in a few deep breaths, surveying his new surroundings: A narrow brick terrasse. At the back wall, a glass sliding door reveals a room covered in darkness, but as nothing moves inside (his night vision remains far superior to that of mortals), Loki turns instead to take in the view of … London.

There is a taste of early spring in the air, and before him as far as the eye can see, the rooftops and spires of the city stretch out into the distance.

Millions of little lights flicker in the dark and the fumes of traffic and city grime mix with whiffs of different cuisines drifting out of air vents.

He has been here once or twice before, though not in decades, and there are whole clusters of towering structures of glass and steel that he does not recall from on his previous visit.

The house by the ocean in 2016, Budapest in 2015, New York in 2014 and now London in what he assumes must be 2013. As methodical as the backwards count has proven to be, as confusing are the destinations and varying seasons.

Only they cannot possibly be random.

Free will is an illusion.

The eerie feeling that even this, his ill-thought-out ‘quest’, is being guided by an invisible hand in charge of his destiny is so dispiriting it’s comical. He can’t quite decide whether to feel perversely honored that some higher being – a version of He Who Remains? – would take interest in toying with him, or furious that he has been singled out for this preposterous punishment of drifting through another Loki variant’s timeline.

It is no use dwelling on either emotion. He has no one to measure his pride against, no one’s expectations to live up to expect for his own, and, frankly, by now that bar is scraping the floor. There is no telling where the female variant of him went and Loki has no means of contacting the TVA or the analyst-interrogator even if he wanted to (he really does not anymore).

Loki unclenches his fists.

Seeing as each destination may have been an intentional set-up for whatever bizarre reason, the question is which character from his past he will encounter in this place. He vows to himself that no matter who he bumps into, he will attempt to reactivate that silver tongue of his and gather actual, useful information.

No more chaotic exits.

Provided no one tries to kill him on sight or squash him through a wall.

The terrace is furnished only with an old sun chair and a few plants, but the room beyond the glass door appears very lived in, with books stacked on the floor and several shelves, a large couch, a couple of armchairs, and what looks to be an adjacent kitchen area with a dining table.

Amazing how most mortals spend their years in such small, crowded dwellings.

Using only his magic, he slides open the door. It makes a low swooshing sound. Quiet as a cat, he steps over the threshold.

It hits him immediately, like walking into a wall: The scent of lavender.

And Thor.

The apartment is quiet, but they were here and recently.

He has been delivered right to them.

Loki is once again frozen in place.

His initial plan when knocking out that man in the canteen at the TVA and stealing his tempad was to find Thor and Jane at the scene of his own moral redemption (well…) on Svartalfheim. Where he supposedly saves their lives. Find them and use the momentum of their unfiltered gratitude to deliver the news that, most regrettably, the universe is likely coming to an end if they do not devise a plan together to prevent a multiversal war – preferably enlisting the help of Thor’s colleagues, too, and in the best of scenarios, Asgard.

Seek out Thor before saving Jane’s life, and Loki would have to first win his brother’s trust in the aftermath of the attack on New York. Find Thor after Svartalfheim, and there would be the small matter of explaining how the variant faked his own death and, after having thus broken Thor’s heart again, took the throne of the Realm Eternal.

Not an ideal conversation starter, even for them.

From the reel, he knows that there were other moments, much later, when he and Thor would become friendly again. After Ragnarok, before his end.

But Loki also knows that this need to get to Svartalfheim has as much to do with her as it has with Thor. Perhaps even more so.

Something important transpires between himself and the brown-eyed scientist on that brutal, barren planet and if it is the last thing he does, Loki will find out what it means.

It does not make any more sense now than it did when he sat in the kill me kind of room, transfixed by her face, but if he had had any initial doubts as to whether he was simply imagining the magnetic pull of her, those had been effectively shattered to atoms when she threw her arms around his neck outside the white house.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Nothing on this timeline seems to be playing out as it should. Which of course also means that the events on Svartalfheim may never have occurred at all.

On this timeline, a variant has more or less befriended the Avengers in the years after New York when, according to the proper Loki fate, he should have been on Asgard. And, in a few years from now, the variant will somehow be with Jane.

Jane, who has stayed in this very apartment. With Thor.

Briefly, Loki is back to wondering if Thor dies and how, but then he remembers what Bruce said about their “family soap opera” and Loki’s “victory”.

Could it be that he and Thor actually fought over Jane?

As much as he wishes it otherwise, even Loki finds it hard to believe that his variant would have beat the God of Thunder in a fight. The might of Mjølner is formidable. And though his brother has not quite discovered it himself yet, Loki has always suspected that Thor has his own kind of magic.

Then there is Jane: Without having ever conversed with her, Loki would be surprised if Jane would appreciate being treated as a prize to be won.

He is getting a headache. A rare thing for a god, but there is no putting the puzzle together with so many pieces missing from the board. Since he has no hope of using the tempad to transport him off Midgard, maybe the best thing to do would be to just wait here and see if Jane and Thor come back. He has been specifically sent here, has he not?

Without really noticing, Loki has moved to the blue, puffy couch. He sits himself down and leans back into the soft cushions, letting out a sigh. When was the last time he slept or ate anything? There is a sense of fresh paranoia as he realizes that he cannot remember doing either at the TVA, expect for when he fell asleep during research.

“Time works differently at the TVA. You’ll see”.

He stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns. On the wall opposite from the couch is a paper calendar: 2013.

He takes in the rest of the apartment but does not magic any of the lights on. There is the open kitchen, a tiny hallway with a coat rack and a few pairs of shoes, and two more doors to the left of where he is sitting.

Getting up suddenly feels immensely tasking, but Loki nevertheless hauls himself to his feet and goes to inspect the other rooms. First, there is the washroom. The scent of lavender is stronger in there, even more inviting, and spotting a stack of fresh towels on a shelf, he considers taking a shower. It is not as if he cannot easily use magic to uphold appearances (wait, were there showers at the TVA?), but that is no substitute for the soothing feel of warm water running down his body, relaxing his tired muscles.

Yes, he will shower. And cast a spell on the apartment, so he will be alerted if anybody attempts to enter.

He takes a small comfort in his powers being restored.

Loki reckons the other door leads to the sleeping chambers but just to be sure, he magics it open with a flick of his wrist.

A window with closed blinds. A wooden bookcase to one side, volumes and magazines piled high. An old, white wardrobe with brass grips. A pile of clothes strewn haphazardly on the thick yellow rug on the floor near a large, unmade bed.

Unmade – and not empty.

Loki stands perfectly still, one hand still raised.

Why did he not sense that someone was here?!

Seeing as Clint (Bird-Eye?) managed to surprise him in Budapest, perhaps Loki’s “wolf’s ears” really are failing him.

Even so, his nose is working just fine. Unless …

Then he knows. Of course.

His tongue tastes bile.

Inching closer, he sees the black hair spilling over the madras. His own lean, sculpted body whose long limbs and handsome Asgardian features Loki has never felt less appreciation for than right this very moment.

The variant is deep asleep. And half-naked under the sheets.

Something twists in his stomach at the scene. Something small and pathetic and evil that wants out. A foul, winged creature batting against his ribcage with sharp claws.

He takes another step forward.

How has the variant not been alerted to his presence yet? He seemed strong – very strong – in 2016.

Loki studies his twin’s face. His own exact face. Same high cheek bones, same long, dark lashes against a pale complexion. Only this close, the man’s skin has a faint ashen sheen to it. A few tiny beads of sweat glisten on his temples and, yes, Loki hears it now, his breathing is slightly labored.

He is injured. Enough to dull his senses.

It is not the madman from the Void, as Loki had feared after their first encounter. His energy is quite different from any of the other variants, and Loki suspects he may be the closest to a perfect double that he’s encountered yet (and please, let this one be the last. No more variants or Loki will forget which life was his own).

Stepping so close he can lean over the bed, the reason for the variant’s sedated state becomes evident:

Tied around the man’s mid-section, just about visible over the sheets, is the upper edge of a large bandage. Loki sniffs. Yes, he can sense the wound and the ugly tinge of dark magic still surrounding it, like a poisonous signature: This was inflicted by a blade of the dark elves. The variant has come from Svartalfheim after all.

The cut must have been near fatal, but from the smell of it, it is healing well, aided by the variant’s own powers and what can only be human medicine, judging by the clinical odor.

Even so, why was he not taken to the healers on Asgard?

Because he is evading his punishment for the attack on New York, Loki guesses.

Thor and Jane must have brought him to London instead of delivering him back to Odin. Although thanks to Heimdall’s watchful gaze, the All-Father will be aware of what has transpired. In his condition, the chances of the variant being able to use his magic to shield himself from Heimdall are next to none.

Still, he is here. No one has come for him yet.

Loki does not know which is stranger: That the variant is legitimately, badly injured and not currently in the process of dispatching Odin off to some home for the elderly in New York, or that Odin has allowed the variant to be taken to Midgard instead of the dungeons.

Presumably neither the All-Father nor Thor are aware of the variant’s role in Frigga’s death.

Though he tries to shake them off, the images remain crystal clear: The queen mother, killed by one of Malekeith’s monster.

A shiver suddenly runs through the variant’s body on the bed and Loki holds his breath. The man shifts under the sheets but does not wake.

So, dear ‘brother’, your Nexus event was that you nearly died for the people who care for you instead of following up your heroism with deceit, as I would have done.

What sentiment.

The winged creature growls.

Loki could kill him right now.

Kill him and take his place.

It would be easy, so easy to slit his throat. It is not as if he has not committed murder before.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it …” But this is not ‘people’.

This man is a murderer as well.

The variant has already veered spectacularly off course from his fate, and yet there are no Minute Men next to his bed, holding him accountable for his “crimes against the sacred timeline”, nor will he be apprehended in the following years.

This man got “the Time Keepers’ stamp of approval”, just like the Avengers.

It is so monumentally unfair it is enough to make Loki’s fingers grasp for an invisible dagger. The variant’s existence makes a mockery of the life that was cruelly stolen from Loki by the TVA and for that he loathes him with every fiber of his identical body.

Why should the variant have any more right to live?

Because he will make her happy.

Loki forces himself to rein in the rage. The man will play a part in Jane’s life.

He stares at his sleeping double.

The variant is worthy.

Or just simply unbearably, ridiculously lucky.

No matter what, he must live, but if Loki stays here much longer, he fears the variant’s chances of making it past 2013 will rapidly decrease by the minute.

Loki cannot stand to look at him, nor will he contemplate the fact that the variant is comfortable enough in the apartment to discard his clothes.

If he does, he will stab him to death. And relish in it.

Loki is about to magic himself away to find somewhere nearby to wait for Thor and Jane’s return, when a noise reaches him from the hall outside the apartment.

Someone is coming towards the front door, keys in hand.

Jane.

He should leave immediately. Disappear before she can turn the key in the door.

But he does not.

Still looking at the sleeping, half-covered form in front of him, something finally snaps instead. The winged creature shrieks in delight.

A quick spell ensures that no sounds from outside the sleeping chamber can reach the variant, no matter how light his sleep becomes.

Another one renders all the light switches in the apartment useless.

Then Loki swiftly picks up the clothes from the floor, looks it over, and changes his own black outfit into what he is holding: A dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft, well-known black leather pants that makes him feel both a bit homesick and a lot stronger.

Don’t do this, don’t do this.

A voice, not the clock this time but his own. He ignores it.

He does not know what Jane’s relationship with the variant is of this time or what state of mind she expects to find him in, but she has let him stay here – and right now, she is alone.

Her fingers weaving through his hair while the sun beat down on his back.

His conscience will not allow him to kill the variant, yet Loki cannot resist the temptation to be him.

Again.

But just for a heartbeat or two.

This last part he promises to himself and to her, though it does nothing to bury the shame.

Perhaps he did not change at all during his time at the TVA. Perhaps his true, villainous self just lay dormant, biding his time, while various oppressors walked all over him.

Is a stolen moment with her worth more than his honor? Is it worth jeopardizing his one chance of enlisting Thor’s help?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This is lowest you have ever sunk.

Shut up.

He steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. His hair. The variant’s hair is noticeably longer. He cocks his head to the side once and the difference is levelled out.

In the hall, Jane is fiddling with the keys. When the lock clicks, Loki is sitting on the blue couch again, trying to appear casual while his pulse is racing as fast as when Bruce turned green before him.

And there she is.

Hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air, wearing a dark green parka, jeans and boots.

Her eyes find his in the low light and a warm smile spreads on her face. His heart leaps into his throat.

“You’re back”. She does not stop to take off her jacket or attempt to turn on the lights before coming towards him and, unsure of what to say, he stands up. She stops in front of him, apparently a little unsure of the situation herself. She bites her lip.

“So how did it go?”

Her voice sounds at once both concerned and hopeful and her eyes are wide with expectation.

She is searching for some sort of positive affirmation and so Loki smiles down at her and says the only thing that seems fitting:

“It went well”.

Jane exhales loudly and her smile returns. “It did?!”

“Yes”, Loki replies, grinning at her (her smile is too infectious) and hoping she will not ask him to elaborate on whatever the subject is.

“Of course it did! I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you? Oh Loki, I’m so insanely relieved!” Jane laughs and looks like she is about to throw herself into his arms (automatically he reaches for her) when she stops herself mid-motion. “Sorry! I nearly forgot. Again!”

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, and Loki swallows hard as her fingers softly caress his with unmistakable intimacy.

“But seriously, you two didn’t fight, like fight-fight, did you …? I hope Thor didn’t …”. She trails off and looks at him questioningly.

“No. No, we didn’t fight. Don’t worry. We both … behaved”. Loki tries to catch up while keeping his replies as vague as he hopes he can afford.

The variant and Thor have had words, and Jane has worried about the outcome. Could it have been a discussion of whether to return Loki to Asgard? But then why has Thor not come back to the apartment?

In fact, why go anywhere else to talk at all, with the variant being as beat up as he is?

Because he and Thor both expected a row not suited for the indoors.

“Okay, you sit, you’ve moved around enough for one day. I’ll fix us something to eat and you’re going to tell me everything”. Jane gently lets go of his hand, then shoots him a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve emptied the fridge. Again”.

“Um”, is Loki’s inspired contribution to the conversation.

“Uh oh, pasta it is then”, Jane laughs, and goes to shrug off her jacket and boots in the hallway, revealing an open flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath.

Was she wearing the same thing that day in the desert town? It looks familiar.

Jane flips a light switch next to the coat rack and makes a “huh”-sound as nothing happens. She tries a lamp next to the dining table with the same result.

“Has the electricity gone again? Was it out when you got back?”

“Ah, yes. It was”.

“The landlord seriously needs to fix this, that’s the third time this week…good old London”. Jane scoffs but does not sound all that bothered.

“Can you work a little magic for us?”

When Loki does not move, Jane walks up to him (now even shorter without her footwear) and lightly places a hand on his arm, nudging him back on the couch. “Sit. And shine a light, please”.

He lets her push him down, and her hand moves up to rest on his shoulder. Now he is the one looking up at her. She is standing between his legs and there it is, the affection in her eyes that almost makes him forget that he is not the man it is meant for.

He wonders for how long he can get away with not saying anything remotely coherent before she suspects something’s amiss.

Obeying her wish, he holds out his palm and a small, orange flame appears, casting a warm glow on both their faces. Motioning with his fingers, he makes the flame float elegantly over the low coffee table in front of the couch where it stills in the air.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just making the electricity come back on, like last time, but okay, that is very pretty too”. Jane looks at the little light with wonder and Loki thinks he sees the stars in her eyes again.

Then her attention is back on him. Her fingers brush against his hair. They linger by the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s relief, but it’s almost like you look a bit … different”. Jane’s eyes roam his face, his hair. “Do you even still have a fever?”

Before Loki can answer her hand is touching his forehead.

Jane shakes her head in surprise. “It’s much better than this morning. Maybe it was good for you to get some real air after all. It has been almost three weeks …”

How easily she touches him. How sad that he's not used to being touched anymore.

He has only to lay his hand on her forehead in return and he could use his powers to reveal glimpses of her past (yes, he kept many of his gifts from the female on Lamentis).

More specifically, what has happened between her and the variant.

But not without revealing himself in the process.

Her left hand is still on his shoulder while the other now travels down the side of his cheek. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of her skin when he feels her bending down and locks of her auburn hair tickle his face.

He opens his eyes and looks right into hers, inches from his.

You have not earned this.

You are deliberately, selfishly, monstrously taking advantage of her.

I am a monster.

And then her mouth is on his and he does not say no.

To hell with his soul.

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

For a second, she thinks she feels him tense up.

But as soon as her lips melt onto his and he immediately, hungrily reciprocates the kiss, everything is right again.

Crazy, sure, but also oh so right.

Jane literally never wants to stop kissing him.

She actually told him exactly that the other night. Or, accidentally blurted it out as they were coming up for air, since she is falling for him so fast her brain apparently cannot keep up with her mouth.

Immediately she had felt embarrassed, but it did not last longer than it took for him to raise a teasing eyebrow at her and pull her close again. “Why, Doctor Foster”, he had purred in that low voice that he absolutely knows makes her go weak, “by all means, please…(and he’d kissed her) don’t…(another kiss) stop … (kiss) Ever”.

Then he had leaned back a little, still gently cupping her face between his large hands, and flashed her the most gorgeous, happy, wickedly lascivious smile she had seen on him so far.

Not many people radiate smoldering sex appeal while simultaneously suffering from the agonizing pain of a wound inflicted by an alien sword, but of course Loki pulls it off with flying colors.

From there on, there had been no returning to ‘movie night’.

Now, trying not to break the kiss, Jane carefully moves to sit herself down on the couch as well, making sure not to press against him. For two weeks, they have been making out like teenagers whenever they are alone. Somewhat hindered by his injuries, obviously, which prohibits him from moving much – it is both very, very hot and insanely frustrating.

The first time she had kissed him, he had been too stunned to move a muscle anyway.

The second time, he had nearly ripped the wound open again.

Since then, they have tried to take it slow, although on more than one occasion, Loki has been all but begging to throw caution to the wind – “I’ll heal!", “It doesn't hurt!” (said as he looked like he was going to pass out), and, Jane’s favorite, “It might make me heal faster”.

His impatience would be quite funny if it was not because Jane was feeling just as dizzy with want.

She has been going for a lot of runs in Hyde Park lately.

“Do you have a death wish?!”, she had asked him teasingly at one point when he had spontaneously grabbed her hand as she passed him the kitchen and pulled her tight against him, only to groan loudly in pain when her body collided with his bandage.

Then he had looked suddenly very serious and let her go, and she had instantly regretted the comment.

She knows enough about his past not to joke about things like that.

“Oh. Oh, no”.

That was all her mind had been capable of thinking when she and Loki had locked eyes in the palace on Asgard, right after she had slapped him (surprising both herself and everyone around her).

He had looked down at her with his trademark arrogant smirk, except as soon as Thor and Sif had turned away, his gaze had turned infinitely softer, and Jane had felt something monumental start to shift inside of her.

Something that had nothing to do with the Aether coursing through her veins.

Not long after that, on that awful, doomsday-looking planet, he had saved her life. Twice in quick succession. And for a horrifying second, it had looked like he would die right in front of her.

The memory makes her involuntarily shudder a bit and, drawing her legs up on the couch so she can twist to face him more directly, she runs her fingers through his long, silken hair, and nips at his lower lip… and is startled when his head jerks. For real this time.

Jane draws back.

“Are you okay?”. Perhaps things did not go as smoothly with Thor as she had hoped.

It was a big ask after all.

Once more she feels a sharp pang of guilt. It is not just her and Loki’s worlds that have been turned resoundingly upside down in a matter of one turbulent month.

Loki seems lost for words, and the sadness flooding his face shocks her.

He is far from okay.

In fact, he looks close to tears. Were it not because she had just felt his cool forehead, she would have assumed it was the fever flaring up.

Jane feels her stomach tie itself into a knot. They are taking him away from her before they have even had a chance be together.

Or, even worse still, he has regretted everything about their unlikely union.

“Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry…”

Here it comes, Jane thinks as nausea builds. Erik is about to be proved right about him.

She lets go of him. He is clearly wrestling with himself.

And he does look different. Is this what him dropping the mask looks like?

It is more than just his facial expression, it is his entire posture. Even wounded and half delirious with fever, Loki usually carries himself with no small amount of pride.

His eyes are so lost.

What the hell is going on?

“Just tell me, Loki”. Jane tries to disguise how alarmed she suddenly feels. His touch is the same, and yet it is like a stranger is taking over the man in front of her.

He inhales deeply and runs both his hands through his hair. Entirely without wincing as he lifts his elbows above his chest, she notices.

“Okay”, he begins. “Jane…” (the way he says her name, like he is tasting the word) “…you have every right to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. I truly deserve nothing less.”

She feels the tears welling up.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Her voice breaks and Loki has the audacity to look taken aback.

“Are you being dragged back to Asgard, or are you dumping me? After trying so hard to get into my pants?!”

It comes out way too harshly, and Loki appears genuinely flummoxed.

Also, his face has gone red.

“Oh, Jane, no, he’s not going to… He won’t leave. I mean- ”

“What?” A chill runs down her spine.

“’He’? ‘He’ who? Thor?”

Before he can answer, they both jump a little as her phone suddenly goes off in her bag by the door.

That inane ringtone.

She still has not changed it.

Erik. She promised she’d let him know as soon as …

Jane wants to ignore it, but then her mentor will most likely keep calling and she cannot put it on silent from the couch. Loki probably could though, but she is not about to ask.

“Wait”. She holds up a hand and gets up.

While rummaging in the bag, a single tear runs down her cheek. No. She will keep her composure and listen to what he has to say like the commonsensical grown-up woman that she is.

Was.

She’s only just begun to get to know him properly, so why does it feel like she won’t be able to live without him?

She pulls out the damn phone and presses the button on the side.

The she straightens up again and turns. “Okay, Loki …”

Jane gasps.

The room is dark. And empty.

No, he didn’t!

“Loki!”

No answer.

She stalks over to the couch and frantically looks around. Nothing.

“Loki, don’t you dare!”

The phone vibrates in her hand. Shaking all over, Jane answers the call. “Erik?”. Her voice is very small. “Yes, hi, Jane, it’s me. Listen, has Loki gotten back yet?”

She starts crying. “Erik, he left. He was here when I came home and just now, he disappeared! He didn’t even say goodbye.”

She can hear how desperate she sounds.

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Erik sounds confused.

“He is gone! I turned my back on him for one second and he vanished!” Jane’s voice breaks.

“Look, Jane, I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you misunderstood him? He came to see me not two hours ago after that thing with Thor and, well, let’s just say he went out of his way to make a case for himself. And you…”

“What? What did he- ”

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice cuts through. She must have taken the phone from Erik. “The lunatic is absolutely batshit crazy about you, okay? Stop blubbering. He’s probably just bored and fucking with you since you’re not actually f- ”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Muffled sounds, as Erik wrestles the phone back.

“Come on over, Jane, okay? We’re all still at the lab. Ian’s made tortillas if you can believe it”.

“But…” Jane wavers. Is Loki really playing a joke on her?

Erik is not taking no for answer: “Jane, don’t indulge these little games of his, okay? Come have dinner with us, and I’ll tell you what he told me before. And if he isn’t back later tonight, it’ll be my pleasure to enlist Thor to beat the crap out of him. It’s long overdue”.

Despite herself, Jane cannot help but smile.

“Okay. I’m coming over”. She exhales. The feeling of unease is subsiding a bit.

“Good girl”, Erik says. “Tell her to bring beer!” Darcy shouts from somewhere in background.

Jane hangs up and puts on her boots again. Loki and Erik had an actual conversation with no casualties?

She grabs her jacket and slams the front door behind her.

He really is infuriating, that prince of hers.

If he turns up later, she will make him pay dearly for scaring her.

No making out for a week.

(Yeah, right.)

To be continued in part 7 ....

This was supposed to have been the final chapter. Only 'someone' needed extra time star gazing. Please forgive me him!

#shine a light #lokane #loki series #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #tva loki #loki x jane #jane foster #loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #plainlo inthemorning #shine a light fic #loki show

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maxdark158 · 4 years ago

Text

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

#daminette #maribat #damimari #maridami #marinettexdamian #damian x marinette #Damian Wayne #Marinette #joker #joker mention #he's pretty quiet in this POV #the badassness is in AiG #rip mari's health #in a week alfred be like master wayne #why is there a delivery for weedkiller in your name #damian takes it from his hands #and chugs

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