#ready to cut throats if we think we found their evil intent to hurt us

[alyona11]

I truly think some people in the internet need to log out and talk to an actual real human person irl. If every message you send regardless of context looks like a Twitter callout/discourse starter post it's NOT normal and I can't empathize it enough. You shouldn't talk to people this way??? It's incredibly rude and uncalled for.

I think Twitter in particular has permanently damaged people's brains because I started noticing more and more people acting like they are in a ratioed hit tweet outside Twitter. I even started to see that when I spend too much time scrolling through Twitter, I myself start to formulate my messages in a more provocative manner like I have the intention to hurt someone's feelings to get a reaction. And surprise-surprise! It's not cool, guys! Not just in relation to other people but it's toxic to yourself, first a foremost.

Do yourself a favor: do outside, take a walk, talk to actual people, hang out with friends. Delete Twitter at least temporarily to detox. Literally touch grass.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader Rating: T for language and blood + references to violence Warning: Lil bit of kisses with dubious consent (initial surprise, then “hmm this is nice, I guess”), as well as a tiny bit of blood. Oh, and, ya know, mild referenced cannibalism. Notes: Still no beta reader, we die like innocent chickens unfortunate enough to be in Ethan Winters’ way. Also, I’m hoping this isn’t too ramble-y, I kinda. Got excited. Maybe sorta stayed up late to write this instead of sleeping, so... PS sorry for the cliffhanger, I could not resist. Next chapter will include the reader earning their PHD in Bullshittery, while also moving us into the, like, actual central plot of Serenade (or at least the part that the romance revolves around). Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne

Chapter 2: Overture

     By the time you made it back to the maidens' quarters, it was nearly half an hour after your "shift" officially ended. Daniela hadn't taken up that much of your time, but her words had instilled a vigorous sense of anxiety in you, which had only drawn out your remaining tasks. You also weren't terribly looking forward to being interrogated by your coworkers. What would you even say? "Oh yeah, I accidentally played a note on the forbidden piano but instead of killing me, Lady Daniela just flirted with me and let me go! Haha smiley face emoji!"

     Yeah, that would definitely go over great with the others. Maybe you could get away with pretending you hadn't been the one to play? Even though, you know, your daily duties were posted on the same wall as everyone else's, and anyone could see that you were the only person working in the music room today. Damnit, you think, everyone is always a bit tense when someone "gets off easy". Not that it happened terribly often. It simply made people nervous, considering they never knew if the Ladies of the house had been denied the "stress relief" they so desired, and whether or not they would want to take it out on someone else.

     Hoping things would sail a little smoother this time, you took a deep breath and pushed the door to your quarters open. As soon as you stepped in you felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn your way. There had been muffled talking as you approached, but now it was silent, a heavy curtain of discomfort hanging over the room. Well, fuck, you thought, struggling to think of how to react. In the end you settled with a slightly-too-enthusiastic wave and a shy smile.

     “What the hell is wrong with you?” One of the maidens asks, almost instantly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed with confusion. If you remembered correctly, her name was Cynthia, and she was one of the (currently) longest running survivors. The two of you hadn’t spoken before, which made her next move all the more confusing. Without much of a warning she moved in front of you, reaching out to grab your hands, before gently holding them in front of her chest. When she speaks, it’s with a hushed voice. “How are you not dead right now?”

     “I… have absolutely no idea,” you replied, doing what you could to avoid her gaze, but ending up meeting eyes with the others in the room.

     “When you didn’t get back with everyone else… we assumed the worst,” Daphne, the closest thing you had to a best friend, said. She was towards the front of the small crowd of maidens, all of whom were now gathering around you out of curiosity. “You’re probably just lucky that Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t home while you played, otherwise, well, I think we can all guess what would have happened.”

     “Thank the Mother for that, literally,” Cynthia chimed, dropping your hands as she did. That caught your interest for sure. Despite being part of an eccentric “extended family”, it wasn’t that often that Lady Dimitrescu actually left the castle to visit the other Lords; or their leader, for that matter. Was something big coming? Or was it simply time for a regular check up? You didn’t have time to ponder that thought, as soon Cynthia was speaking again. “Now, please, regale us with your story, dear. It must certainly be interesting… seeing as you escaped unscathed.”

     “Alright, alright,” you said, putting your hands up in a “slow down” motion. Sighing, you moved over to your bed, sitting on the edge, before starting to tell the others what happened. You left out a few details, such as the severity of Daniela’s flirting, as well as the way she touched you. By the time you reached the end of your story, the other maidens had settled in a semi circle around you. A few had started to get ready for the day shift while you spoke, but their movements were deliberately slow, and their gasps let you know they were definitely listening. It was, however, difficult to tell how anyone really felt about what you were saying. Were they looking worried because they were concerned for your safety, or for their own?

     Hard to say. All you knew at the end of night was that no one was looking forward to the following night.

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

     Every shadow in the corner of your eyes makes your heart skip a beat. All day (night, technically) you’ve been overly paranoid, expecting Daniela or one of her sisters to pop out at any moment, their sickles raised, blood-stained lips pulled up into a grin, promises of violence dripping from their mouths. So far your anxiety had proven irrational. Experience, on the other hand, was reverse-reassuring you with memories of maidens you had hardly had time to get to know. Who were you to avoid such a fate? Could playing a little song really justify your existence to these people? These mutants?

     Distracting thoughts like that swirled around your mind for hours, leaving you feeling faint and dizzy, as you desperately tried to focus on your work. Ironically, it was your tunnel vision on your worries that brought them to life.

     “Humph, you should really pay more attention, sweet thing,” a voice whispers, right besides your ear. Immediately you jump, a little yelp escaping you, and whirl around to see who had crept up on you. Your wide open eyes soon settled on the youngest Dimitrescu daughter. A toothy grin lit up her face as she took you in, leaning in just close enough for you to feel her breath. “Missed me?” She asks, words melting into a fit of giggles. One moment she’s face to face with you, the next she’s evaporating into a swarm of insects, moving around the room with frightening speed before settling on a nearby table. Both her legs dangle off the edge, swinging a little in a childlike manner.

     “Lady Daniela, I-” you stutter, hardly able to will yourself to speak. You can’t help but glance at the table with a feeling of anxiety, knowing that you had just finished cleaning it, and wonder if your work would be for naught. But it seems that Daniela doesn’t appreciate you focusing on something other than her. Again she buzzes into a cloud, this time coming closer to you, the insects circling you, occasionally tugging at your skin. Fight or flight tries to kick in, yet all you manage to do is freeze in place.

     You don’t open your eyes until the sound of hundreds of wings beating dies down. Fresh drops of blood trickle down your brow, as well a few from smaller cuts on your arms. Panic still roots you in place, even as you stare up at Daniela with a frightened expression. At first all she does is laugh. Loudly, with no softness to it at all. This was exactly the sort of thing that you had been afraid of in the first place.

     “Oh, you poor little thing… Did that hurt?” Daniela asks, trailing a hand up your arm, pausing just before her fingers touch blood. Then she leans in, once more putting her lips right next to your ear, slowly pulling off one of her gloves as she does. “Good. Maybe you’ll pay more attention to me now. You really should, being in love with me and all.” She says it so casually, and with such conviction, that you almost wonder if she knew something that you didn’t. Though you try to turn to look at you, you find her gloved hand holding your head in place. The other moves so slowly that you almost don’t notice it until her thumb is sliding across your forehead. Blood smears as she does this, but she doesn’t bother trying to be neat about it.

     Instead she simply brings the finger back towards herself, her other hand turning your face as she does, so that you could make eye contact as she licks her thumb clean. As soon as the blood hits her tongue her eyelids flutter and a soft moan rises in her throat. Astoundedly the sound brought a strong blush to your cheeks. It was less about attraction per se, more about the inherently intimate nature of the moment. Daniela was so close, her hand resting on the back of your head, her eyes slowly returning their focus to you. When she sees you she can’t help but don a prideful grin.

     “You taste even better than I expected, sweet thing- what a fitting nickname, mhmm?” Another giggle, another rush of blood to your cheeks. In the rush of the moment you found your fear fading out, slowly, gradually being replaced by a mix of confusion and… warmth? What is wrong with me, you think, mind racing with countless half-thoughts.

     Suddenly, as quick as the strongest of impulses, you found yourself being pulled closer to Daniela, her bare hand moving to rest on your waist. For once her eyes left your own. Now they drifted lower, to your lips, giving you a single moment to realize her intentions before she acts on them. Your lips collide with hers before you can even think to protest. It’s a million times softer than you would have ever imagined- not that you had imagined. But now that you had felt this… damnit, you know you shouldn’t enjoy it, yet you found yourself kissing back nonetheless. It wasn’t like it meant anything, right? Not like you’d have a chance to kiss anyone else around the castle, either.

     Within a couple moments you realize two things: One, Daniela was smiling into the kiss. Two, by Jove (by Miranda?) was she seemingly inexperienced. Based on how much flirting she had done, you had naturally assumed that she was in no way, shape, or form new to this. The kiss was a bit sloppy, although passionate, and Daniela seemed quick to mimic your movements. More than that, it seemed like she was unable to catch her breath (did she even need to breathe? Or were the movements more out of habit than anything else?). By the time she pulls away she needs to gasp, and you’re left absolutely reeling, unsure how to process any of this. On the other hand, Daniela was softly grinning, gently resting her forehead against your own.

     “Delectable, darling,” she murmurs. There’s a softness to her voice that you simply cannot fathom is real, at least not entirely so. Then a pause, with her gently running her fingers through your hair, before she gives you one more little peck on the lips. When she pulls away, just far enough to really look at you, you see something in her eyes that fills you with dread: Hunger. “I think I know what you want, what you need. You want to be with me, forever, a part of me, don’t you? They always do, in the end…” Her eyes shift to your neck, and suddenly her grip on you is dangerously tight.

     Instantly you shift into panic mode, trying to squirm out of her grasp to no avail. This seems to irritate Daniela, who digs her nails into your waist, making you gasp. Without hesitation she seizes the opportunity to push you against the nearest wall, the hand that had caressed you so gently now pinning you down. Your thoughts are racing, desperately searching for anything that might buy you some time to get away, or even dissuade her entirely. But seconds tick by with nothing coming to light, your hope quickly fading. Gulping, you squeeze your eyes shut, ready to accept your fate.

     And then… it hits you. An idea, maybe, that might just be stupid enough to work. Here goes nothing…

     “Wait! Don’t you want me to show you my love?” You ask, somehow managing to mask the pure terror you were feeling. Hell, you slipped in a bit of confidence, sounding far, far more sure of yourself than you really were. Apparently it was enough to give Daniela pause. Her teeth had been mere inches from your neck, but now she was watching you closely, head tilted at a slight angle. “I can hardly do that if you kill me so soon, love. Don’t you want to see everything I have to offer? To know me truly, fully, before we become as one?” Another pause, a little hum from Daniela, then a slow, spine-chilling smile.

      “Go on, then… show me.”

[seungmoroll]

It’s Just a Number | Hui

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: angst, happy ending, hui x younger!reader

Requested: yes

A/n: thank you lovely anon for my first pentagon request! I hope you enjoy it!

To say you were nervous about tonight would be an understatement. Tonight will be the first time your father is meeting your boyfriend, Hui. A friend of yours had been insisting on setting you up on a blind date with their friend, and eventually you got tired of their persistence, and agreed, thinking that if you said yes, they’d finally leave you alone. Honestly, you weren’t expecting much from the date, but now you could say that you were glad that you told them yes because six months later you were now with the very same man that you had been set up with.

While at a stoplight, you take a peek at Hui in the driver seat. He’s anxiously shaking his leg; you can tell that he’s nervous as well. As a way to make him relax, you gently take his hand and give it a firm squeeze. Hui physically relaxes as soon his he feels your touch. He brings your hand to his lips and lays a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“Nervous?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t be. I’m sure that they’ll love you.” The look he gives you before he begins to drive off lets you know that he doesn’t quite believe your words.

When the two of you arrive at your house, it takes a moment for the two of you to actually leave the car. You patiently wait as Hui collects himself. Taking a deep breathe, he eventually says, “Okay, let’s go.”

As the two of you wait for your parents to open the door, Hui begins to fiddle with the bouquet of flowers that he’s brought for your mother. When the door opens, you are happily greeted by your mom.

“Y/n! It’s been too long! Have you been eating?” Your mom takes a hold of your face to inspect you. “Mom,” you groan out, “Please let go of my face.” Letting go of you, she finally turns to Hui, “Oh my, I didn’t expect you to bring such a handsome man home. Please come on in!” Stepping into your house, Hui presents the flowers to your mom, “These are for you.” Your mom happily takes the flowers from him, exclaiming that he was such a gentleman.

“Is that Y/n I hear?” The sound of your father’s voice comes from the kitchen. Emerging into the living room, your father quickly goes in for a hug, giving you a tight squeeze. When he let’s go of you, he turns to Hui, and his expression immediately changes into a serious one. Reaching out for a handshake, your father warily takes Hui’s hand. You can tell that your dad was being a bit too firm with the way Hui’s hand trembles.

“It’s nice to meet you sir.”

“Uh-huh.” Glaring at your dad, you elbow him in the side. The room has now gone silent, with only the sounds of your mom in the kitchen being the only noise in the house. You try to think of something to say, but fortunately your mom has good timing because she yells out, “Dinners ready!”

When the four of you are situated at the dinner table, you all begin to dig in. For the most of it, your mother does all the talking, all while your dad glares at Hui. Underneath the table, you rest a hand on Hui’s lap as a way to make him relax, which only helps a bit because you can still feel the way that he’s tense.

“So Hui, Y/n tells us that you’re a producer, how’d you get into that?” Your mom’s question manages to get Hui relaxed. When it came to producing, Hui could easily talk about it for hours, so thankfully your mother brought it up.

“As a child I was always interested in music, so it was an easy choice for me to decide to go into a music career. As for being a producer, I’ve just always like creating my own music, even if I’m not the one performing them.”

“That’s wonderful that you chose to do something you love.” Before anyone else could get another word in, your father speaks up, “I don’t know if this was mentioned, but how old are you Hui?” You knew you were forgetting to tell Hui something, and your father’s question just reminded you of it. You haven’t actually told your parents that Hui was four years older than you. It’s not like it was a big deal or anything, which is why you didn’t mention it, but you knew that your dad didn’t like the idea of you dating older guys because the last time you dated an older guy, he completely broke your heart.

“I’m 27 sir.” The sound of silverware clattering follows Hui’s response.

“27?” Your father is now looking at you, and you do your best to avoid his gaze. Unintentionally, you tightly squeeze Hui’s thigh, causing for him to look at you as well. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor catches your attention, and you see your father getting up from his seat, “I’m sorry Hui, but I think you need to leave.”

“Dad.”

“No, Y/n. I cannot have you dating a 27-year-old.”

“Dad,” you plead.

“Sir-“

“Sweetie-“

“No,” your dad says, cutting off everyone, “I will not accept you dating a guy with a four-year age gap.”

“But dad-“

“I said I won’t allow it, Y/n.” You found it ridiculous how your father wouldn’t let anyone get a word in. While off to the side Hui was completely speechless.

“Dad, you’re being completely unreasonable right now.”

“No, I’m not Y/n. Last time you were with an older guy, he broke your heart and me and your mother had to pick up the pieces. I refuse to see my child go through something like that again.” At this point, you were beginning to grow frustrated with your father. Hui was a completely different guy from your ex, and your father would know that if he only got to know him.

Finally speaking up, Hui speaks to your father, “Sir, I know that Y/n’s last relationship put them in a rough spot, but I promise you, I would never intentionally hurt Y/n like that. I truly love Y/n and hurting them is the last thing I want to do.”

“It’s the last thing I want you to do, which is why I cannot allow for you to date Y/n. I’m sorry, but I’d like for you to leave now.” With that being said, you dad takes his leave, leaving the rest of you stunned. Getting up from his seat, Hui apologizes to your mother, “I’m sorry, I seemed to have ruined dinner.”

“Oh no sweetie, it’s not your fault at all. He’s- He’s just very protective of Y/n, that’s all. I think he just needs some time to digest everything.”

“I should take my leave now I guess.” Hui begins to make his way to the door. Getting up from your chair, you stop him in his tracks, “Hui, wait-“

“No, Y/n, I should just go.”

“Please don’t.” Slowly approaching you, Hui plants a gently kiss on your forehead, “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He then parts from you, bidding you and your mother a goodbye.

Angry and frustrated, you make your way to your dad. Storming into your father’s office, you ask him, “What was that about?” You could not believe that your father had the audacity to do that to you and Hui.

“I did what I had to do Y/n. I did what was best for you.”

“Best for me? Hui is the best thing that’s happened to me, and now because of you, I might’ve lost him for good.”

“There’s other fish in the sea.” You could do nothing but gawk at your father, “I don’t want just any fish in the sea, I only want Hui.” As the minutes pass, your anger towards your father began to build up. “If you can’t accept the fact that there’s a age gap between me and Hui then I don’t think I should come back home.” Your statement causes for your father to finally turn around and look at you.

“You don’t mean that. Y/n, he’s just another guy.” That’s where your father was wrong. To you, Hui wasn’t just any other guy. You saw Hui in your future, and you weren’t going to let something stupid like an age gap ruin that for you.

“I’m sorry dad, if you can’t accept our relationship, then I can’t come back here.” With that being said, you leave your dad’s office, giving your mother an apologetic look as you leave, to which she sends you an understanding look.

That very night, you call Hui and let him know that you chose to be with him, not caring what your father thought of your relationship. At first Hui had made sure to ask you if you were making the right decision, not wanting to be the reason for there to be a rift between you and your father. You had reassured him that you were 100% with your decision.

It had taken you two weeks for you to talk to your father again. Your mother kept you updated on him, telling you that she was doing her best to change his mind, but unfortunately, she had no luck. Which is why it came as a shock to you when your father had unexpectedly showed up at your door. Silently, you let your father in. When you had shut the door, the first things to come out of your father’s mouth was, “I’m sorry.” Unable to do anything but look at him, you wait for him to say more.

“I know that what happened two weeks ago was out of character for me, but you have to understand, you’re my child and all I want to do is protect you from all the evils in the world.” You knew your father had the best intentions for you, but it didn’t excuse the fact that he was rude to both you and Hui.

“Dad, I understand that, but I’m not a child anymore, I’m a grown adult. I can take care of myself now.”

“I know, but I’m your father. I’m always going to want to protect you.”

“And that’s fine, but you can’t control the people that I date. I love Hui, the difference in our ages doesn’t matter to me. He likes me for me, and I like him for him.”

“I understand that now. Your mother told me the things you told her, and I want to make it up to you and Hui and really get to know him.” Suddenly the door to your apartment swings open, Hui busting through with a bag of food in his hands, “I got take ou-“ He stops mid-sentence as he looks back and forth between you and your father. You can tell by the way his eyes shake that he was contemplating backing out of the room. Quickly, taking his side, you grab a hold of his arm, “Hui, I think there’s something that my father has to say to you.”

Clearing his throat, your father says to Hui, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and if you let me, I’d like to get to know you better.” It takes a moment for Hui to respond, but when he does, a smile breaks through his face, “I would like nothing more than that sir.”

A/n: yay! my first pentagon request! my requests are open, so if you want to, send something in! these are the groups I write for: x

masterlist

[gold-onthe-inside]

Okay so this idea popped in my head while I was watching an episode of Criminal Minds..

What if a femxreader/creator made character comes up to Reid after he exits the narcotics anonymous meeting for cops and shares how she has a similar experience? Maybe they hold each other accountable or meet up for coffee at a diner to talk about it more in depth or even at someone’s home?👀

Ooh i like that idea. One of the biggest reasons why addiction is so hard is that shame they feel which prevents them from talking about it and having someone who understands how hard it is to keep going works wonders in the fight to stay sober. I would be honoured to write it.

cw: narcotics, drug abuse, injury, reference to rape

Winter, 2006

It had barely been a month since Spencer had started going to these meetings. He had lied low in the beginning, slowly mustering up the courage to talk about it. Even then, he had never found the courage to talk about Hankel. He’d left work early, his co-workers convinced that he had a date, and arrived perfectly on time as planned. He was content to leave his co-workers in their misconception. After all, Derek’s jibes were certainly easier to handle than the silent sympathy he’d received after the abduction.

The usual attendees were there, law enforcement officers of every kind filling up the seats with their cups of coffee. A woman who worked with bombs struggling to get off heroin. A young man near the back with an addiction to fentanyl. Nearly all of them had spoken up about their own issues, none more than the young woman greeting each attendee at the door.

Charlie Nash. He knew she was a detective with Metro PD, battling her own addiction with Oxy. She couldn’t have been much older than him, an expert in her field. Unlike the others who only shared snippets of their life, Charlie was a force of nature, using her own story to kickstart theirs. Like every other meeting, Charlie sat with them in the circle, a hand casually pressing down on her cane. She was the reason he’d managed to say a few words at all. Because she refused sympathy or pity from anyone, especially from the people in this group. Because unlike him, she had powered through the shame that bound him.

“So, a couple years ago, I was working with the victim of a rapist,” Charlie started, the same way she kicked off every meeting, with a story about her own pain. “The statute of limitations was up and the case was closed. I was supposed to debrief him and hand him off to a therapist. But he, uh, never showed up to the appointment. He calls me, asks me to come to this cafe, points out his attacker. I told him that my hands were tied, I couldn’t arrest her. So, he pulls out a bag of C4 and blows up the place. My leg got pinned in the fallout, doctors prescribed oxycodone and I-I couldn’t stop.” She stopped to take a breath and wipe a strand of dark, curly hair behind her ear. “And now, I am 2 years, 6 months and 3 weeks sober. My career is on track, I have a support network I can count on and I’m here to help you all.”

The same smatter of applause filled the room but Charlie dismissed it, taking a look around the room before her glittery brown eyes landed on Spencer, a soft smile curving her features. He shifted in his seat nervously, his fingers absently tapping on his thigh as Charlie observed him. “Spencer, would you be our first volunteer?” It was a perfectly innocent question and he could always say no. She had made that abundantly clear in the first few meetings. He felt his throat dry up, the room feeling much hotter as the circle pinned him with their gazes.

"Um, okay. I uh, I had a-a rough time staying-staying clean after um—" Spencer swallowed thickly, feeling Charlie's gaze on him. He exhaled slowly, his heart pounding in his ears. If Charlie could come in here every week and talk about her injury and addiction, then he could talk about Hankel. "Two months ago, I was kidnapped by a man with uh, DID, a dissociative identity disorder, and uh, one of his personalities, he-uh-he gave me Dilaudid. To-To help with the pain.” Spencer’s focus slid down to his hands, long wiry fingers picking at his fingernails. “I wanted to hate him,” he admitted quietly, “I keep thinking whether it would have been better if he was just… evil.”

Spencer wet his bottom lip, taking a second to glance at Charlie, her hands layered on top of her cane before focusing back on the floor. “I uh, I can’t leave the house without the vials. Ever. And the times I try to, they’re just-just constantly on my mind. And um, and I can’t focus on my job.” His lips quirked into a self-deprecating half-smile. “The-the victims, I just… I used to be able to compartmentalise it, you know, and it was-it was easier when I-I didn’t know how it felt. Now that I do, I just…can’t seem to focus anymore.” His voice quietened, his body feeling hollow and exhausted.

“Narcotics make it feel like the pain goes away,” Charlie said quietly, using his story as a teaching point. “But it doesn’t heal our wounds, physical or emotional. And just like a physical wound, we have to help our emotional wounds heal in the long term. Ignoring that wound means it festers and only gets worse. And I know it’s hard. Emotional healing is much harder than physical healing. But the more we talk about it and reflect on it, it will get better.”

The rest of the meeting took its usual 45 minutes with attendees telling their stories and Charlie chiming in with a reflective message for each of them until she announced the end of the session. As his habit, Spencer left the hall immediately instead of mingling like the others did. It was easier to talk about his addiction when he didn’t really know any of them. “Spencer, wait up!” He turned to see Charlie following him outside, her cane making a small tapping sound as she made her way over to the curb where he stood.

Shivering slightly as a breeze ruffled his hair, Spencer pulled his coat around him as Charlie caught her breath, shaking out her bad leg. The bright amber streetlights illuminated her golden, honeyed skin but obscured the freckles dotting her cheeks. Like him, she was bundled in layers, a thick hoodie under a dark leather jacket, a gold necklace with a circular pendant neatly nestled just above the zip of her jacket.

“You said you still have those vials.” Spencer dipped his head shamefully, a hand rubbing the back of his neck at Charlie’s bluntness. “Look, before I got sober, I had a prescription for Oxy. So, whenever the cravings became too much, I’d go to my doctor and tell him that my leg was hurting again. He’d give me a prescription and I’d get the drugs. My sponsor convinced me to tear up the prescription and switch doctors. You need to cut yourself off, even if you haven’t taken any from the vials yet.”

Spencer met Charlie’s discerning gaze, her hardened eyes betraying tenderness. Hesitantly, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two clear vials of Dilaudid. He rolled them in his fingers, the beginnings of a craving starting to sneak up on him and before he could refuse and pocket the vials, Spencer handed it over. But Charlie only raised an eyebrow at him cynically. "You do know, I'm a former addict too, right?"

Spencer blushed, the cold making the tinge of his cheeks more prominent and Charlie laughed softly to herself. "I'm saying, you don't have to do it now if you're not ready. But when you are, flush that thing."

"I uh, I will," Spencer promised her, his voice wavering a little. That one he couldn't blame on the cold. Charlie nodded curtly, stepping away from him and the curb to get into her car. Spencer tapped his foot for a moment, gathering all his courage before surging forward to Charlie's car. "Uh, Charlie!" Too loud. Her gaze was peppered with light humour, leaning forward on her cane to listen intently. "Um, I-I still haven't quite found a-a uh, a sponsor yet and I was, uh, wondering if maybe-maybe you'd like to uh--"

"Spencer, you aren't asking me to prom," Charlie reminded him, a wry smile curving her lips. He let out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah, sorry." He took in a deep breath before tackling the question again. "Wouldyoubemysponsor?" Way too fast.

But she just smiled tenderly at him. "Sure. You have my number."

[ga-yuu]

Ikemen Genjiden Prologue ~ Forbidden Chapter~

(There is no change in the prologue, it’s just that they added scenes with three new characters. But I’m still writing the full summary because I’m not satisfied with the one I did earlier.)

Story starts just after the end of the Genpei War. We see Yoshitsune, who is bleeding, walking on the cliffside. Yoshitsune tries keeping his breath but was still struggling because he knows he’s about to die. Right when he was about to give up, a black figure flew above his head and came down right in front of him. It was Kurama. Kurama gave a smug look at Yoshitsune and telling that he looks good. Yoshitsune asks if he’s here for his soul and Kurama asks what he’s going to do now. Yoshitsune went silent for a second and then looked straight at him. He offers to make a deal with Kurama.

Cut to 3 years later, in Kamakura Shogunate, we see Yoritomo and Morinaga discussing something serious in the hallway. Unfortunately they heard a news about Yoshitsune being alive and having supernatural powers. They also discuss about a thing called ‘sesseoseki’. Morinaga reports that Yoshitsune tried to destroy the rock before Yoritomo’s other vassals Shigehira and Kagetoki could stop them. But according to Yasuchika, the ‘thing’ inside that sesseoseki rock is still alive. Yoritomo smiled in amusement and informs Morinaga that they will be leaving too.

That night, Yuno(MC) is on her way to Kamakura for fulfilling her own dream which is opening a drug shop. She used to be a apprentice pharmacist before, but know she wants to start her own business in the prosperous Kamakura. She decides to ask someone for direction and then sees a travelling merchant coming from the other side. She asks him for direction and that travelling merchant, who is apparently our first new character Sueharu, asks if she’s heading towards Kamakura. Yuno smiles awkwardly and says that she wanted to go there in the morning but somehow, things got in the way and she had to travel at night. Sueharu just silently stares at her and then smiles. He decides to flirt with her and asks her out on a dinner instead of going to Kamakura tonight. Yuno found it little uncomfortable and politely declines. She tells him that she wants to get there soon as possible and Sueharu just shrugged it off. He tells her that they might eventually meet in the future but Yuno just thinks that he’s teasing her and leaves for Kamakura. After they both went their separate ways, Sueharu stops and looks back at the road that Yuno went. He starts to slowly whisper about her chances of getting involved with people who are about to gather in the outskirts of Kamakura. He just hope that she reaches her destination safely and walks away.

Yuno reached the entrance of Kamakura safely but she was greet by a small but majestic looking white fox. When she looks closely, she noticed that the little fox was injured and decides to treat it. The little fox didn’t resist and accepted her treatment. Yuno noticed that the injury on the fox’s paw was made by some kind of sharp object like a knife. After the treatment, Yuno places it down and sits on a rock, which was little far away from the fox. She didn’t want to leave the fox alone and wanted to return it to its owner or at least where it belongs. The moment she relaxes, she hears a sharp voice calling her. Then someone pulls her up by the hand and it was Benkei. He looked little intimidating. He glares and asks her what she’s doing was there and Yuno immediately answered that she wasn’t doing anything. He glares at her even more and threatens her that it won’t be good if she’s lying with lack of knowledge of how much tightly he’s grabbing her wrists. Then another man walks up to them and calls out to Benkei. The other man was Yoichi and he asks why he’s bullying a woman. Benkei asks what he’s talking about but Yoichi cuts him, and points at what Benkei was holding. Benkei looks back and forth at Yuno and her wrist which he tightly grabbed with his big hand. After realizing, he immediately releases and apologize. He showers her with questions like ‘is her hand broken?’ or ‘is she breathing properly?’ but Yuno just nods and says that she’s fine. After hearing that she’s fine, Benkei sighed with relief. Yoichi, who was standing besides him, laughs at his awkwardness and teases him for finding time for playing with a woman when there are on an important mission. Benkei instantly denies Yoichi’s statement and says that he was worried about her because she was alone in a dangerous place like this. 

Yoichi turns towards Yuno and asks where she was going. Yuno tells them that she was on her way to Kamakura. She tells them she wanted to open her shop in Kamakura which is prosperous  because of the great Shogun, Yoritomo. The instant she spells out Yoritomo’s name, both Benkei and Yoichi were silent. Somehow the atmosphere changed from warm to cold. Yoichi then sarcastically looks down and states that Yoritomo is very famous  and is good at what he does. Yuno doesn’t get that he was being sarcastic and agrees with him. But however, Benkei doesn’t resist showing his hatred for Yoritomo. He tells her about a rumor which states that Yoritomo killed his own little brother for his own purpose even though Yoshitsune was the one who helped him to win the war against Heiki.Yuno didn’t know about this rumor and starts to think why Yoritomo would kill his own brother. Yoichi tells Benkei to calm down and tells Yuno that she should go wherever she wants to go before anything happens. Yuno agrees and also decides to take the little fox with her. When they both see the little fox she treated a while ago in her arms, they alerted each other. This time both of them had a serious expression and Yoichi politely asked her to give them that fox. Seeing their serious expression made Yuno even more careful and thinks about the injury that the fox had. If her assumptions about the injury being made by a knife is correct then, it could be them. She asks what they are planning to do with the fox but both of them were silent. Benkei tells her that its none of her business and tells Yoichi to hold Yuno while he kills the fox. Yuno pushes Yoichi away and when she was about to run, two other figures comes running towards them. It was Shigehira and Kagetoki. The four of the starts fighting in pairs and Yuno understood that Kagetoki who was fighting against Benkei and Shigehira who was fighting against Yoichi had an emotional attachment with each other. It was as if they were ready to rip each other’s throats this instant. Yuno also finds it hard to believe which side is against her and the fox.

In between the battle, Kagetoki noticed Yuno and the fox and orders her to run inside the bamboo field to find two men. One with black hair and other one who is tall and masculine. Yuno agrees for now, and runs towards the bamboo field. She runs as far as she could and bumps into two men. One of them catches her before she could fall. When she looks up, she sees a beautiful face in front of her. It was Yoritomo and Morinaga was standing beside him. Yuno apologized for bumping into them and Yoritomo just gives his signature fake smile and tells her that it was alright. She asks her to release her from his arms but Yoritomo instead asks her a question. He pulls out his sword and places it on her neck and the smile he had on his face turns into this evil expression which states that he will kill her if she says anything wrong. He asks where she was going and why she had that little fox with her. Yuno tells him that she wasn’t doing anything wrong and tells him exactly what happened. After hearing her story, Yoritomo draws the sword away from her after confirming that she wasn’t lying. She tells him that two people named Kagetoki and Shigehira were the ones who guided her here. After hearing those names both Yoritomo and Morinaga understood the situation and Morinaga asks Yoritomo if he is planning to help Kagetoki and Shigehira. Yoritomo denies because he knows that they can handle there work themselves. He orders Yuno to come with them and also to bring the fox with her. Yuno declines because she didn’t know who these guys where and tells them to introduce themselves before any of this. Yoritomo was irritated but introduced himself as the Seii Taishogun Minamoto no Yoritomo and Morinaga, who is his vassal and right hand man. Yuno didn’t believe them because if he is what he says he is, then why is he out here in this place without any guards. Yoritomo states that he is on an important mission and only wanted trustworthy people by his side for now. He orders Yuno to follow him quietly and also to forget what happen tonight. Before they could all leave the place, Yoshitsune comes and stops them.

Three of them were surprised to see him alive, well actually two of them. Yuno is meeting him for the first time. Yoritomo welcomes him and Yoshitsune had this very deadly aura around. Yoritomo asks if the rumor he heard about Yoshitsune having supernatural powers is true or not and Yoshitsune tells him to watch closely. Yoshitsune takes out his sword and starts swinging it. Suddenly the air around them started to blow strangely and when they all look at Yoshitsune, they noticed that his appearance is different now. His one eye was bloody red and there was a red mark on his neck. Yoshitsune states that his only intention today was to kill that white fox and return to Hiraizumi, but meeting Yoritomo here was like adding cherry on top so that he could kill him. Yoshitsune swings his sword again and certain gust of wind were charged towards Yoritomo. Morinaga tries to protect Yoritomo but hurts himself. Morinaga warns him about the wind being sharp blades. Yoshitsune next looks at Yuno who was still holding the white fox. His gave an icy cold glare and tells her that he didn’t want any woman to be involved in a bloody war. He states that he would leave her alive but she must leave the fox behind. Yuno was intimidated by his power but no matter how threatening he was her heart couldn’t leave the fox here to die.

Suddenly there was a feint sound of a bell and the surroundings around her started to get foggy. She hears a man’s voice telling that he likes her and out of nowhere Tamamo appeared in front of her. Yuno asks who he was and Tamamo claimed that he is the fox he saved earlier, but too bad he was an ayakashi all this time. She asks him what was going on and Tamamo tells her that he will answer all her questions after doing something to her body. He comes closer and holds her body and grabs her wrist with his other hand. With out wasting another second he gently bites her fingertips and Yuno started to feel an unusual heat in her body. Her mind started getting hazy and couldn’t think of anything. Soon her appearance starts to change and her hair turns white and eyes were golden. Yuno asks what he was doing to her and Tamamo states that he is making a contract with her. In other words he is sharing his powers with her and because of this her appearance has changed. However this change may differ among people. After forming this contract, the fog starts to fade and the other people who were standing there all were surprised to see Yuno’s change of appearance. They ask her what happened but Yuno couldn’t clearly describe her situation. Yoshitsune watches her closely and concludes that Yuno made a contract with the nine tail fox. 

Tamamo happily agrees with Yoshitsune conclusion but was not happy that he tried to kill him. Yuno asked what the hell was going on and Morinaga explained everything. Apparently after hearing the news about Yoshitsune’s superpowers, Yoritomo wanted something that could defeat him. Some guy named Yasuchika told him about a rock called sesseoseki, in which Tamamo was sealed. But before he could get to that rock, Yoshitsune and his friends destroyed it but unfortunately they failed kill Tamamo. That injury did a massive amount of damage on Tamamo’s powers and therefore was found by Yuno in the form of a little fox. After all this, the rest of the characters join them and four of them where surprised to see Yuno’s new form. Yoshitsune explains what had happen and turns towards Tamamo. Yoshitsune stated that since he could demolish almost half of his powers, he could kill Tamamo here right now and Tamamo accepts his challenge. When Yoshitsune charges his wind blades toward Tamamo, Yuno steps in to protect Tamamo and raised her hand. The wind blades soon scatters into golden balls of light and goes inside Yuno’s body. 

Everyone had a stunned expression to what Yuno had done and Tamamo chuckles and strokes her head as a compliment for doing such a great job. Tamamo explains them that ayakashi can suck out human’s energy and therefore kill them, but what Yuno did right now was exactly the opposite. Yuno made a contract with the nine tail fox and now she can suck the mystical powers of any ayakashi and kill them. Tamamo looks at Yoshitsune and asks what he’s going to do because if he uses his mystical powers, Yuno could absorb them. This means that Yoshitsune now has to resort to his hand to hand combat which makes things easy for Yoritomo. Yoshitsune’s friends where ready to take them right now but they were interrupted by a black bird that came down from the sky. Kurama lands with an exciting smile. He challenges Tamamo to a battle and Yuno asks Tamamo if he’s friends with Kurama. Tamamo states that Kurama is the most annoying ayakashi out of all the ones he had met because he keeps challenging him. Tamamo felt bad for Yoshitsune who made a contract with Kurama. Kurama on the other hand asked Tamamo why he made contract with Yuno. He looks at her with a disinterest expression and claims that she’s just an ordinary human. 

Yoritomo asks Kurama why he revived Yoshitsune and Kurama answers saying that he was after Yoshitsune’s soul ever since he first met Yoshitsune when he was a kid. He waited for Yoshitsune’s soul to polished and strong so that he could to take it when the time comes. When Yoshitsune was about to die, he said he could not die yet and wanted to make a deal with Kurama. Thus he’s here. Kurama looks at Yoshitsune and asks if he wanted to battle his brother now or he could just come back later and battle him in the great war. Yoshitsune sighs and decides to withdrew for the time being and promises to destroy Yoritomo and his Shogunate. Yoritomo also doesn’t hold back and tells him to dream whatever he wants and the rebels leave. 

Yuno comes back to normal and asks Tamamo if their contract is broken. Tamamo says that even though her appearance is normal, she is still in contact with his ayakahi powers and the contract is still ongoing. When she asks if there is anyway to break it, they were interrupted by another person. It was Yasuchika. He comes in smiling and greets them all. Tamamo was not happy to see him at all. Yasuchika greets Yuno and congratulates her for her new powers. Tamamo angrily says that Yasuchika was the one that sealed him inside that rock for 100s of years. Yasuchika introduces himself as an onmyoji and also someone who works for the court. He wanted to come early for today’s events but something got in the way and was late. Coming back to Yuno’s question, he tells that it won’t be easy for Yuno to break the contract with Tamamo. Tamamo tells her that Yuno has to keep sucking the life out of ayakashi time to time so that Tamamo can gain his lost powers. When the vessel is filedl the contract will eventually break and Yuno could go back to her normal lifestyle. Hearing this Yuno started to panic but Yoritomo came up with a proposal. He asks her to join Shogunate to help him defeat Yoshitsune, and that would be more than enough to break her contract. Tamamo also agrees with that and Yuno wanted to protect Tamamo and also wants her normal life back so she decides to join them.

Yasuchika tells them that he’s going back to Kyoto and leaves. Before going back to Kamakura, Yoritomo asks Tamamo to do something about his ears and tail so that he doesn’t stand out. Tamamo removes his ears and tails to look like a normal human and they all go back to Kamakura.

Scene cuts to Yasuchika, where he stands in a empty field with depressed expression. He starts to mutter how it was unfortunate that the quarrel between the genji brothers didn’t end. His face changes and now has a evil smile and thinks about Yuno being a fox princess and how she’s going to change their fate.

The very next moment, two figures come out from the darkness and joins him. One of those was of a child with a beautiful face and had a manly tone. Other one had a noble aura but was a young man with elegant clothes. The young boy was excited to meet Yuno and Yasuchika tells him to behave himself. The noble young man whose name is Akihito tells them that they don’t now her yet but expect her to be a good dancer. (’good dancer’ means a pawn to destroy both Shogunate and rebels.) The boy next to him also agrees that he wants to play with her and gently removes the bracelet from his wrists and POOF!! He’s man now, more precisely a Oni.Yup , out third new character Ibuki.  The three of them go back to Kyoto for deciding what plan they would go with to destroy both the rebels and Shogunate.

Here, Yuno and Tamamo were greeted by the Shogunate and all of them does a one finally introduction before ending the prologue.

[modestlyabsurd]

Reversed (Loki x Reader)

In a world, where gAHDAMMOTHAFUKIN INFINITYWARANDENDGAMENEVERHAPPENED

...

ahem, excuse me.

In a world where the genocide of 2018 was reversed and humanity was restored in full, there fought a team against all forces of adversarial motives. A broadened team; a team of heroes.

~

Including foes turned heroes.

Such was what Loki Odinson thought on a daily basis, especially at this moment.

The gifts bestowed upon him from his mother - a keen hindsight, superior knowledge, and even a bit of witchery - have allowed him a new perception of things. Well, and not to mention the time travelling thing that The Avengers finally figured out with their human technology. That contributed to his outlook as well. Otherwise he'd be dead - or worse.

Nowadays it's hard to imagine how life was then. The duties of being a true Avenger are more than enough to keep his mind busy. But from time to time it drifts off to that place. Like now. He supposes it always will.

He thinks of what state the universe was in, and albeit narcissistic, how it was his fault. How he tried to fix it in the only way he knew possible. And now knowing that his sacrifice those years ago would've inevitably been for naught, if hadn't been for them.

But in the same thought it fills him with an eternal sense of awe and gratitude that this team of somewhat gifted humans were able to successfully reverse it. That he, among half of humanity, lived to see another day. Another five years.

It is nothing short of a miracle.

He'd proven his gratitude by asking to be recruited in their team of good intentions. Make no mistake, it took swallowing every ounce of his pride to do so, which was no easy task. But alas, he's done it.

Echoes ... nothing but these strange echoes ...

Back and forth Loki's mind goes. Locked in place, imprisoned indefinitely, what more can it do? The weight of reality tends to sit heaviest at the most inconvenient of times.

The bitter truth is that half of humanity was eradicated in spite of him; his attempt at redemption, at reversing what he'd done. And it took the will of others to stop the madness. The helplessness; that's what still lingers.

Along with the pain.

It's all he can sense. It's all he can feel. He can't see, he doesn't have energy enough to decipher what he's hearing, and he cannot speak. Just his thoughts, and the pain. This evil, immobilizing pain.

How did I get here? he thinks, somehow conscious of the circumstance despite his current state.

It was some time ago. How long ago is inconceivable at the moment. But he does concentrate, and accesses the last memory in his mind.

"All units in position?" said Stark through their communication line.

"Copy that."

The exchange between Stark and Rogers brought Loki to high alert. He sits on the rooftop of a building half the height of the skyscrapers surrounding it. Exactly how he liked. High enough to see below, low enough to see above, and ideal for taking cover.

The wind blows through his ears, and for a moment he sees some amount of beauty in the setting New York sun. But only for a split second.

And only because you'd always spoke of it.

"Uh, hello - that was a question to all units. I need everyone to copy if you don't mind," Stark persists.

"Sorry! I copy," the Spiderling chirps.

"So do I," the Black Widow murmurs.

"Roger that," says the Winter Soldier, turned Avenger.

A second passes before Stark asks, "Clint?"

"Copy," he says.

"Alright - who am I missing? Uh ... oh! Y/N, do you copy?"

"Ten-four," your voice comes through, and Loki releases the breath held in his chest. "I still don't know why you're making me do this, I hate being the bait."

"Good, you can be the bait from now on." When there's silence in return, Stark softens his tone and says free of sarcasm, "Look, you're gonna be fine. All you have to do is put the moves on this guy, bring him to the car and lead him to us. If things get too serious, you know the code."

"Remind me of it again?"

"Dizzy. Just somehow in some context say the word dizzy and we'll be there before you know it."

Loki's shoulders tighten at the idea of things "getting too serious". It seems completely unfair to have someone without the same training to handle such a high caliber of criminals as the lure. Especially without him there - or, someone there, to assist.

But he doesn't make the rules, of course. To add insult to injury, he's charged with following the rules as well.

"I expect a bonus for this," you grumbled. "And you're still forgetting someone."

"You sure? I could've sworn that was everyone - " Stark pauses, clearly for dramatic effect, "Ohhhh, right. Silly me. Thor?"

Loki smirks. Yet another of Stark's frequent, petty jabs at him. The entire team was aware that Thor was currently in New Asgard organizing a new and proper government with the Valkyrie, Brunnhilde. (Which will of course require some fine tuning on Loki's part due to the brute irrationality that both of them act upon solely, but to worry over another day.)

He could practically hear you rolling your eyes through the line. "Loki? Are you in position?" you ask exasperatedly.

"As always, love."

"Ugh," someone groaned.

He smiles outwardly, where no one else could see. Yes, indeed, Loki was in love.

It was certainly one of the most beautiful things he'd ever experienced, yet the most painful. Never more so than in times as these, when you're put in danger.

Stark sighs dreadfully, "Alright, Agent Y/L/N. Whenever you're ready."

Loki watched from his aerial view as the luxury black vehicle begun to move through traffic. It was you, driving the car that Stark cared the least for.

That could be destroyed if necessary. He swallows.

At that moment Loki's memory cuts out.

... ugh! Echoes, but of what, exactly? These sounds are so foreign ...

Frustrated that pieces of the story are missing, but unable to do anything about it. All he is aware of are these faint, mechanical noises, and this undetermined amount of consciousness; and the pain.

Blackness. He suddenly becomes aware of the blackness surrounding him. He even tries to use his Seidr to possibly help, to no avail.

He thinks hard. Something happened, he somehow knows. Something happened to someone.

Slowly ... Another piece. A sound.

A voice.

Laced with fear and feigned sighs of passion.

"I'm feeling a little dizzy ... "

"Go!"

And after that, he remembers the feelings. the blur of adrenaline, the invincibility, the angst.

The feeling of his heart sinking and sinking until he finally found you, until he saved you from harm. The red anger upon seeing the source of harm and the second wave of unfiltered adrenaline as he sought to eliminate it; and then, nothing.

Nothing. He felt nothing, in an instant.

... The echoes are getting louder, clearer. A steady repetitive sound, grounding him to whatever piece of reality he had in his grasp. He now can hear the distant sound of voices - familiar voices, at least - but cannot make out what they're saying.

What in Odin's name is that noise?

He begins to hear it more and more and the smallest amount of light slowly pours through a tunnel, growing bigger and bigger and brighter; so bright it's nearly blinding - until it does indeed blind him.

No, Loki realizes, he is not blinded. But rather, he can see.

... beep ... beep ... beep ... beep ... beep ...

Oh, Norns. He'd rather be back dead. Or whatever he was just seconds ago. Back to a place where such a nuisance was light years away.

And Gods, this light ...

He can't see. But he can see. It hurts to look. In fact, everything hurts.

His eyes flutter before blinking the last bits of unconsciousness. The first thing he sees is a white ceiling, and he quickly he notices that he cannot move his head.

Both hands fly up to his head before a second thought passes by and the alarming sounds of whatever machinery he's surrounded by startle him even more, making him thrash his legs and head when a stinging pain spreads from his shoulder and a person leans over his body.

"Good to see you're awake," says Bruce Banner - who sounds like he's under water - holding a syringe as Loki relaxes into a chemical drowse. "You've been out of it for almost two days."

After relaxing his jaws, Banner hands him a cup with a straw sticking out of it. "That also means you haven't spoken in almost two days. This should cure that, and then after we can talk. In the meantime, I need to update Tony on your progress."

"Where - " Loki tries, but falls into a violent coughing fit as searing hot pain encases his neck and throat.

"What'd I tell you? Look, we'll explain everything later, I promise. But for now, don't talk - drink."

As Banner pulls out his phone, Loki hesitantly takes a sip from the cup. Lacking the capacity to argue anything further due to whatever Bruce injected in him, he finds the water to be quite soothing to the sore dryness in his throat. He feels it cooling him, from his mouth all the way down before it sloshes in his empty stomach.

"He's awake. ... Vitals are stable but I had to give him an inhuman amount of midazolam since he freaked out a little bit when he came to. ... Nothing adverse. ... Movement's properly restricted. ... Too soon to tell. I think he knows something, but I don't know what or how much. ... She doesn't know yet, she just left earlier to go home and shower. ... I know Tony, but she's gonna wanna know."

Loki cloudedly wonders who Bruce is talking about. He wished to be informed fully of what's happening, but the water is helping more than answers ever could at the moment. Somewhere distant, he notices some kind of contraption is wrapped around his neck and he feels it every time he swallows.

Oh well. It appears he's finished his cup anyway.

~

The Avengers have been so kind as to give Loki a hospital room with a television in it, complete with hundreds of channels on which all are speaking about the same thing - New York's New Hero. And apparently they have been for days.

Midgardians cling to the most ridiculous things. Anyone who goes into a tavern in a fit of love-driven madness to rescue their significant other and bring a band of terroristic criminals to the surface is deemed a hero.

Even if "anyone" is Loki Odinson.

More alert as the sedatives have begun to subside, he chews an ice cube and watches boredly as reporters speak of the events. News hasn't yet been released that he's awakened from his injuries but it's only a matter of time. He shudders to think of how the public will react to that. Like moths to a flame, he dreads.

Loki shakes the cup of ice to get another piece as Banner knocks and enters the room. "How you feeling?" he asks while washing his hands in the nearby sink.

He honestly wasn't sure how he felt. Ill? Tired? Slightly confused? Dead? Unable to articulate himself and frankly without energy enough to try, he shrugs.

Bruce pulls something out of the complimentary miniature refrigerator before asking, "Feeling good enough for pudding?"

Loki's brows knit together with suspect. Ready to interrogate Bruce, he tries yet again to speak but nothing more than a pitiful cough comes out. Bruce takes his ice cup and explains, "Y/N said that's what you'd likely eat first. She said you love pudding."

Y/N ... Y/N!

"Whe - "

Suddenly, three loud knocks come from the door before it bursts open and a frantic heaving figure emerges from the outside. Damp hair, disheveled clothing, duffel bag sloppily thrown over the shoulder.

"Y/N," Loki croaks.

You smile a huge, breathless smile.

"Hey," you finally breathe, dropping your bags and easing over to the hospital bed. Holding back tears as you see those bright green eyes open and alive, albeit drugged.

You instinctively take one of Loki's hands into both of yours, beaming. He's overjoyed as well, eyes smiling with what could only be love. A satisfied little grin. As handsome as ever, even in a hospital gown with dirty hair and a big, bulky neck brace.

"How're you doing?" you whisper.

Loki sighs, "Much better now."

Bruce respectfully gave the two of you a moment of privacy. As soon as the door shut, Loki squeezed your hand. "I missed you," he murmurs.

"Yeah," you laugh, "I missed you too." You really did, more than words can say. "I was so worried," you choke out, as the horror you've kept bottled inside from two days ago washes over you unexpectedly.

Loki slowly whispers, "What happened, dear? I haven't quite put it all together yet."

"What do you remember?"

"Most of everything leading up to ... how I ended up here."

That's good. You wouldn't have to go over the entire flop of a mission then. It wasn't actually a flop since the dudes lost, but considering the outcome you're left with here, pretty much a flop in your eyes.

"Well, you singlehandedly got me out of there, away from that creep of a criminal. You all got the rest, too - killed some, apprehended some - then as we were headed back to the quinjet, you fell forward on the ground and couldn't stand back up. You said you couldn't feel your limbs," tears do spill when you have to relive that moment.

Loki, absorbing the recollection, closes his eyes in devastation. Not out of self-pity, but out of heartbreak that you went through all of this. His lip quivers as he remembers.

"After they examined you in the quinjet, and then here, they found that you somehow reinjured the fractures in your neck from ... "

... No ...

"B-but, but that was reversed - "

"That's what I said too. But apparently, they couldn't undo the injury back then. They could only undo the outcome."

How? And why hadn't he been told before now? Loki's mouth opens and closes but forms no explanation. His eyes dart back and forth to search his brain for an answer, when he feels a warm droplet fall onto the back of his hand.

"Oh love, don't cry. I hate it when you cry," he cooes, cupping your wet cheek with one hand. He swipes the tears away with his thumb.

Looking up you meet his encouraging gaze, and can't resist resting your head in his hand. It's amazing how such a small gesture can make you feel so protected and loved.

"I'm sorry," you laugh nervously, pulling yourself together. "But y'know, look at the bright side. Now you're New York's New Hero."

Funny how the tables can turn.

Loki drops his hand and looks past you, "I don't feel like a hero."

"Well, you are one." You make him look you in the eye and whisper, "You're my hero."

In a matter of seconds a million things swim through Loki's eyes. Disbelief at your words, feeling unworthy, undeserving of you, yet gratitude, and adoration. In an even shorter instant he thickly swallows his emotions down against the neck brace.

It is quickly replaced with mischief.

"Come closer," he mumbles. You comply, questioning. "Closer," he says.

You do, and you're less than a foot away.

"Closer," he whispers again with lidded eyes. Now with you only inches away, he says it again. "Closer ... "

You can't help giggling at this point. Your noses touch, and you feel Loki's breath as he says, "I adore you."

Needless to say, you learned very quickly how to kiss him around a neck brace.

~

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Girl’s Night Out

Final Lisa Snart Appreciation Week fic, back when I was on the captaincanary train and thought the show could use some female friendships.

"We are going to rule this place!" Lisa whooped enthusiastically, running to the street and urging the blonde behind her to hurry up. 

"Calm down, Party Princess. Don't want people to think you're already drunk and cut you off." Sara retorted at the woman's giddiness. 

"Cut me off? Never. Who wouldn't give little ol me a drink" Lisa drawled, putting on the most angelic face she could muster, and twirled a strand around her pinkie. That got the men every time. The sweet, nice farm girl role was easy to play and so much fun to watch how they fall over themselves to carry her bags, and shoes, and comfort her when she threw up in the toilet, warning her not to go too fast yet always offering her a round of mimosas the second she perked up. It was Thursday night. Girl's night for Sara and Lisa. 

It had started a couple of months ago when Leonard miraculously returned from the dead. Lisa had almost refused to believe it. After months of mourning she didn't want to be reminded of him or worse, see it was just some imposter. It would hurt too much. But Mick basically dragged her along to the mission and she had been thrilled to see it was the real Leonard. Leonard had been beaten, traumatized and depressed but slowly he got better with the help of the Legends and especially with the care of herself, Sara and Mick. 

When Lisa had found out about Sara and Leonard's relationship, well to say that the Snart protective streak was all on Leonard's side, please. She stalked the Lance home and once Sara entered her room, Lisa asked her point blank what her intentions were with her brother and that if she ever broke his heart due to some stupid-You're evil, I can't be with you excuse, she was personally going to cut some body parts and feed it to her. 

After Sara had calmed her down (i.e. kicked her ass), she assured her that she would in no one intentionally hurt her brother.

Lisa grudgingly had to apologize for shoving the knife to her throat. The next day, Sara decided to make up for the whole confrontation by hanging out together. 

It had been a blast. Lisa didn't have many girl friends, even Shawna the only Rogue she hated out with voluntarily, hardly counted since she was gone as soon as the heist was over. Plus Sara was pretty cool, she didn't take crap from any man or woman, always was ready and willing to do some motorcycle races, drinking contests and even started teaching her how to knock a guy out with a boa stick. Nor did she sigh about how handsome Leonard was. 

When Lisa had asked about their relationship, without weapons, Sara just explained how Leonard had helped her through a tough time and that he was very "cool" to say the least. 

Bad puns aside, Thursday nights when Sara was home from traipsing around in the past the two would hit Central and sometimes Starling City and go clubbing. 

Their first stop was Saints & Sinners. Lisa ran to the dance floor, grinding and shoving herself to the middle of the ground. Enjoying the heat and action and the strobe lights hitting her silver sequined mini dress, sending sparkles around.  

She looked around for Sara and saw she was by the bar, glaring moodily out the window. Lisa shimmed to her side, "What'sup are you gonna go bust out the moves again?" "I'm okay. I'll just be here with the drinks" Sara answered, stirring the rim of her gin glass.  "Are you sure? I mean the guys loved you last time. Remember the eunuch test?" Lisa tried to copy the move that Sara had done which involved some odd gymnastic bend with a machete. 

"Yeah, I would like to see your moves" A guy with way too much cologne approached them, sleazy sliding his hand up and down Sara's arm. 'Whatever" Sara shoved him off, making him crash to the nearest table and walked out the doors, "Lisa let's go to Jitters I'm tired of this place." Lisa raced behind Sara, "Are you okay? You didn't give that creep the throw down you usually do." "Lisa, I'm not going to start a bar brawl every time someone hits on me." Sara muttered irritably. 

When they reached Jitters, Lisa was pleased to see it was karaoke night. She cheerfully mocked and snarked about all the unfortunate singers who went up to sing and was thrilled when even Cisco Ramon and his friend, Barry something came on stage too to do a "The Ten Duel Commandments.” 

She waved to Cisco but stood by Sara because it was Girl's Night and she could flirt all she wanted tomorrow. Plus she was a little concerned, Sara hardly cracked a smile or even replied to her sarcastic compliments. Something was bugging that girl, and Lisa wanted to know what.

"What's with you" Lisa hissed, pulling Sara to the nearest bathroom stall.

“Nothing, Lisa. I'm not in the mood okay. No what I'm sorry if I'm bringing down your night. I can go home, we can do this another time." Sara grumbled, starting to put on her coat.

"No way, you're getting off that easy. Talk to me" Lisa gripped her arm tightly. "Let me go" Sara snapped, kicking Lisa to the sinkLisa grabbed Sara hair in an effort to keep steady, and swiftly put her in a headlock. 

Sara elbowed her in the chest, flipped her over and pinned her. Her knee eating on Lisa's chest with excrutiating pain. Damn assassin training! 

Lisa felt a rising panic, why did she push the buttons of a bloodlust assassin? She had to snap her out of it. "Sara! Stop being a neandrathalic dumbass and talk to me!" Lisa cried, using one of Len's favorite insults.

Sara blinked slowly, realizing what she was doing and hastily got up, “I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me, I thought I had learned to get over it." 

"Whatever, you can have a nice long soul searching talk with Lenny about that. Just tell me what's got you so shitty" Lisa  said, dusting on off her dress.

Sara sighed and leaned against the wall, looking downcast. "Laurel." 

Lisa suddenly understood Sara's whole attitude during this night. She moved beside her, and knocked her shoulder against hers in a silent solidarity. 

“I’m sorry," Lisa whispered.

"I know this sounds selfish, but Mick got to say goodbye to Leonard when we thought he died, then it turned out he didn't. I'm thrilled, those few months without your brother hurt me too. But at least there was some closure there and we had a chance to go back in time and fix things. But I can never do that for Laurel. It was Darhk's doing not the Oculus or the Time Masters. There was so much I needed to apologize to her for." Sara hid her face with her hands and slid to the ground. Lisa made sure to lock the bathroom doors and slid down next to her. "I know how you feel.” Sara looked at her questioningly, "And it's not about Lenny's death. It's my mom's. I learned that for those who are dead and for sure are not returning, you've got to hope. Hope and think about them. It's incredible stupid but it works. Laurel loved you, I'm sure. Would she have really want to end things with grudges and stuff? No good sibling would. I bet she understands all the things you want to tell her." 

Sara nodded solemnly and got up. “We can do this another time, I just need to be alone for a little bit" Sara said, managing to keep a steady voice despite her wet cheeks. "But thanks." 

"It's what sisters do" Lisa shrugged, and Sara stared at her questioningly "You're going to be around Len for awhile so I just accepted the fact that we're sisters now. You should probably start too." Lisa said a matter of factly.

Sara nodded slowly, "I think I could get used to the idea." Lisa shrugged, "You better. I already started.. uh stealing some of your boots that you left at Lenny's but since we're sisters now, we can just call that borrowing."

Sara heaved a big sigh, and Lisa smiled to herself. It was going to be a pretty weird family relation but it was gonna be a hell of a fun one. 

[shxwmaster]

— when shaw ran away —

( cw: details of trauma over a murder, specifically a slit throat )

     I’ve talked often about Shaw and his upbringing into the SI:7. In the canon I’m writing, here on this blog, I’m taking about 98% of everything written in the RPG lore and applying it, meaning that bit where Pathonia trained Mathias early on after his mother was killed when he was 4 is something I’m ALWAYS thinking about.

     But specifically, the impact it had on a teenaged Shaw, and the path it drove him towards.

     His training began small, seemingly innocent. Obstacle courses, races, minor parkour, dexterity checks and knife tricks taught under the guise of games and such, but one thing she hammered into him is that one day, he would need to avenge his mother’s death. She spoke grandly of his mother, spoke often about how she loved him and how her life was cut short, and as he grew older, would expose the details of her mission and her death. They knew exactly who did it, but his status and resources made it difficult to catch him (and by the time the First War rolls around, nearly impossible) but she told him that everything, everything she trained him for was to avenge his mother.

     His first kill was the target his mother failed to assassinate. 

     He was fueled by this need for vengeance, for closure, to fulfill this ‘destiny’ thrust upon him and constantly reaffirmed. He was 15, the First War was raging, but they’d finally, finally managed to find the target (target still pending story and name). Pathonia, the SI:7 and Assassin’s Guild are all there for support, but the fight itself against the target is one on one; Pathonia thought it more impactful and important that he do it alone.

     Mathias had the report of Charlene’s death memorized. Her throat slit, ditched in a corner — Mathias intended to give this man the very same death. However, when it finally came to, and he fought this man with the intention to kill, something he’d never done before, and Mathias watched as he inflicted these crippling wounds, he found himself disgusted and horrified. It caused him to hesitate multiple times, the entire room they were in destroyed from how many times they threw each other against furnishing and otherwise. But Mathias needed to finish this, he trained his whole life for this. He gets the upperhand, and with the dagger his mother once wielded, he breaks skin at that delicate throat.

     And he couldn’t handle it.

     Mathias, in that moment, did not care who this man was, did not care who he’d hurt or killed or what he’d done, did not care that he had spent his whole life training to murder him — all he cared about in that moment was that a man was choking on his own blood that he spilled, that the man was panicking and dying, and Mathias needed to stop it.

But he didn’t.

     Instead, Mathias ran. He was horrified, traumatized by it, hands slicked with blood and he couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t handle it — One thing is saying you’re going to kill a man, another is doing it. He desperately wished he had chosen any other path.

     When he was extracted and returned home and he explained everything that happened to Pathonia, told her how disgusted he was and horrified of himself, she seemed to understand for a moment. But she made a comment that haunted him:

          “ It’s a good thing we started you young then.           You’ll have plenty of time to get used to that feeling. ”

     See, Mathias was under the impression that all he needed to do was avenge his mother, and he would return to a normal life. This, apparently, was hardly the case. This was the beginning of a life-long, bloody career, and she did not intend to release her talons on him. She explained that he would have time to recover and deal with what he’d done, but he would do it again. And again. And again. And one day, he’d become numb to it, as they all had, and he had the perfect amount of time to do it so he would be ready to take on the mantle when he was older.

     She told him she was proud. That his mother would be proud of him.

That comment broke him.

     For the first time, Mathias snapped at her. He argued and fought about it, yelled about how he didn’t want to do this, how this was wrong, how this was horrible — he was still shaking, still felt like his hands were bloody, and every time he closed his eyes he saw the painted red throat and heard that choking sound of imminent death ——

          “ How could any mother be proud her son murdered?           How could you say that about her?! ”

          He trembled furiously, fists at his side as he dared            raise his voice at Pathonia. She hardly emoted, hardly           gave him anything more than her attention, and it made him ache.

          “ This is wicked! This is evil what we do! I didn’t ask to do this,           I didn’t need revenge! You made me crave it! ”           He takes one heavy breath for a heavy statement:            “ If that’s what she would be proud of, then I don’t want this legacy.           If she loved me, she wouldn’t have put her life on the line!           I was a child, she should... I should still have my mother!           You’ve proven to me she loved Stormwind more than her own son! ”

          That was enough to crack the shell of Pathonia’s cold gaze.           Her eyes widen, breath sharp, and before he can see it happening,           her hand is across his cheek hard, enough that sight on his left eye           flashed white and he stumbled back. Enough that he could taste blood.           Out of fear, he keeps his head down from where he was left,           limbs suddenly cold as she towers over him.

          “ Don’t you dare spit on Charlene’s memory like that! ” She snaps.           Pathonia never yells, he can not recall any time he’d heard her           yell out of anger, but her voice is raised enough that it makes           him reel and coil. “ Your mother loved you more than you know,           you will not disrespect her! You do not remember her as I do,           you did not see her as I did, you do not get to speak about what           she felt, about who she was! ”

     The point was made clear to him from here on out. This was his life. He was to serve a life sentence. The horror and resentment had built up, and he had nowhere to put this. He came to resent his mother, that memory of her, questioned if she loved him enough. That if she did, she wouldn’t have been on any missions, she wouldn’t have died, and he would have a normal life, normal family. Her death trapped him, for Pathonia felt the need to train him to be better, to take on what was supposed to be hers. With her death, she’d trapped him, and in his mind, his angry mind, he hated her for it.

     So, when the SI:7 and Pathonia were distracted with the war efforts, he took everything he learned and ran away.

     He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he knew that no matter where he ended up, the SI:7 would find him. They excelled at finding targets, at tracking, at stalking, at espionage — he didn’t know where he was going to go, how he would hide, but he knew that no matter the path, he would be on the run for the rest of his life. He was fine with it though - anything to get him out of this life.

     This happens Year 3 — the height of the First War, so his options were limited. Pathonia and her people were in a panic, because now, not only was the Alliance losing, but Pathonia’s grandson is gone and nowhere to be found, and she finds herself having to choose between putting her resources to the war effort, or to finding Mathias.

     She chose Mathias.

     Mathias was struggling. He had to flee both the SI:7 and the orcs he kept running into, and he could not find any safe place for him to stay or seek refuge. Redridge fell to the Horde, and Westfall soon followed, and he simply didn’t have the resources to travel to the northern human kingdoms. He’d managed to evade trouble for a month by himself, but eventually, he felt guilty about what he’d done. For the first time in his life, he was alone.

     He’d never even said goodbye to his best friend.

     In a moment of weakness, he decides to go back to Westfall and look for the VanCleef farmstead. At the very least, he owed Edwin an explanation of where he’d gone, that he intended to leave forever, but he needed to give him closure. To just disappear like that, he felt awful.

     But by the time he gets to Westfall, it’s overrun by the Horde. He finds the VanCleef farmstead demolished and burned, orcish patrols in the area, and Edwin’s lucky locket in the rubble. Mathias feared the worst, and knowing no other outlet, he attempted to attack the two orcs there, demanding answers in broken orcish about what they’d done to VanCleef. This goes about as well as you expect it to.

     Luckily for him, before the orcs can do any severe damage to him, SI:7 agents emerge from the shadows and rescue him, quickly collecting him back into Stormwind. They’d finally managed to track him down, especially since he’d gotten sloppy in returning to Westfall.

     There’s hardly any time for Pathonia to properly scold him on the ordeal. Days after he’s collected, King Llane Wrynn is assassinated, and Stormwind falls, leaving the people wholly, utterly devastated. The SI:6 had done everything in their power to stave the attack, but were ultimately annihilated. Elling Trias is the only survivor of the now defunct SI:6.

     Mathias and Pathonia don’t talk at all. There’s an uncomfortable, heavy silence between the two of them until the second week at sea on route to Lordaeron where they finally talk about it.

          “ ... Why did you save me? ”

          Pathonia doesn’t look away from the sea, simply           resting her arms against the railing and watching the waves           roll by. “ Why do you think I wouldn’t? ”

          Carefully, Mathias approaches, inching his way closer to his           grandmother. “ Because of the war. Stormwind needed you.           Far more than I needed you. ”

          “ Those orcs would have killed you. ”

          “ But Wrynn would have lived... ”           He finds himself beside her, mirroring her stance with his arms           on the railings. “ You chose me over Stormwind. ”

          She turns now to look at him, eyes distant and expression guarded.           He can’t remember the last time he saw her this cold. “ You’re my           grandson, Mathias. Flesh and blood — you don’t need to agree with me,           but you do need to know I care for you. Of course I chose you. I would,           every time — if our king needed to die a thousand times in order to keep           you alive, I’d be the one with that dagger to get it done. ”

          He purses his lips, dropping his gaze. He could still feel her eyes on           him, but he doesn’t move away, simply fiddling his fingers together.            “ I never wanted any of this to happen. ”

          “ I know you didn’t. But let this be one of those... funny little painful           lessons life thrusts our way, ” Pathonia says. “ You turned your back           on your kingdom, Mathias, and now, it has fallen. This isn’t a coincidence. ”

          He feels the weight in his chest sink further at that.           He doesn’t speak, simply accepting it. Had he not run away, they could           have focused on winning the war. Llane wouldn’t have died...

          “ We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Stormwind, ” Pathonia continues.           “ They had no reason to save my sorry soul from a hanging,           but they did. They let me live, they let me create this empire,           our spies, our assassins — Mathias, I need you to understand that           we would be nothing without our kingdom. I would have died,           and neither you nor Charlene would have been born.           You are alive because of your kingdom. Your very own flesh and           blood crafted because of Stormwind. I beg you to not be ungrateful           for what you have. ”

          She lowers her head slightly to get his attention, for him to look at her.            “ I understand your apprehension. Your fear, your terror.           But this is what we do, this is how we serve and protect Stormwind.           We do what the weak-willed and soft will not, we get our hands dirty           to get the results we need. Others are shackled by their own fears           and morality — but we are efficient. It’s the least we can do in exchange           for the greatest gift of all: Freedom. ”

          She lifts her head high, lungs filled with the air of a proud breath.           She was the deadliest and most powerful aboard this ship, and           she carried it with grace. She bore her responsibility, her mantle           like a crown, she carried herself like a queen because she was one.            “ The only reason why you’re able to bleed is because of Stormwind.           The only reason you can breathe is because of Stormwind.                     Don’t forget our origins. ”

          It’s a heavy weight, and he can’t define the emotion it elicits,           but he opts to mirror her, standing up straighter and nodding.           Guilt, he thinks this is. He abandoned his kingdom, and it fell.           He grew selfish, he let his own personal fear get in the way,           and it killed a king. He felt responsible, no matter how many           times anyone insisted Stormwind would have fallen anyways,           he felt the blood on his hands.

          Pathonia turns back to face the sea, quiet and unflinching as the           ocean mist sprays at them. Mathias aims to take his leave, but just           before he does, she calls out again.

          “ And Mathias? ”

            He pauses. “ Yes grandmother? ”

          “ I mean what I said. I would choose you over Stormwind any day. ”           She doesn’t move, but her gaze flicks down,           the coldness enough to chill the ocean.                      “ But please... don’t make me choose again. ”

     When they finally arrive to Lordaeron, Mathias had made up his mind about how he’d continue his life. In the end, Pathonia was right, and he was selfish to run away. All he could do now was look to the future, and be a good agent.

     After all, it is because of Stormwind that he even had the opportunity to be born. 

                              There is no running away.                               There will never be any running away.

[phaticserpent]

Hidden Years (EDITED)

Ultron x Reader

02

You fell off your bed from the loud alarm. You could never get use to the constant blaring. Trying to find motivation, you dragged yourself out of bed to cook breakfast, the cold morning air and the cold tiles forced you to drag your blanket with you. For five minutes, you pondered of what to wear and what to bring. After shoving flash drives and other inventions for backup, you made your way to your workplace.

"Right on time....you ready?" Your boss asked, you nodded and smiled at Silvia. He guided you up the stairs, for each step you took, your throat clogged up in anxiousness. The stairs led to a door, which opened to the very top of the building. You gawked at the sight, the sun barely visible but a golden streak across the towering skyscrapers. "I wish you luck."

"Thank you, sir." You responded, climbing into the jet. You took a couple of breathes before the jet launched into the sky. Your eyes darted to the clear skies with puffy white clouds, which you found to be at peace.

"I'll be here at 6:00 pm, which is 18:00. Don't rush, I'm a patient person." The pilot informed. You thanked him and watched the jet soar off. Then your eyes gawked at the base, casting a shadow over your tiny frame.

"It's okay, it's abandoned. No one's in there....I think." You assured and you vanished within the darkness. Your hands touched the wall blindly, hoping for some sort of switch. Flipping the switch only made the lights sizzle and flicker for a moment before everything returned to darkness. "I'm such a dumbass, the Avengers cut the power in this base." You laughed nervously as you shuffled through your bag, fumbling for the flashlight as fear slowly crept towards you. Fuck the flashlight, where's the knife? You thought. You shone a light in a room but found it empty, disappointed, you moved on. An eerie creak caused you to jump, flinging the flashlight around wildly only to realize it was the door.

You researched the base structure before you came, something about a secret door.....you scanned the wall, pushing every brick until one gaveway. You yelped and the loud rumbling caused you to drop your flashlight. "Why did boss send me?" Holding the flashlight close to your body, you took a step into the hall. You gawked at the massive room, with machines hanging from the ceiling.

"Wow.....most of these inventions were used for the Battle of New York." You studied each intricate piece of design, taking out your flash drive and staring at the inventions. "I should've known, no computers." There was an echoing of metallic footsteps heading to your direction, for a second, you thought the inventions came to life. Realizing someone was with you, you searched for a hiding place and scurried behind a table.

"I know you're there." A voice rumbled. "I'm not going to hurt you." You stayed put.

"Don't make me find you." The voice chuckled. You revealed yourself, raising your arms to indicate you were unarmed. Your gaze landed on his foot.....his metallic foot. His body was built with such care and details, you didn't notice you were staring. "My eyes are up here." Wow, he's tall.......wait......

"Ultron? What.....how?" You gasped. "You're alive?" He raised a brow at you and you took a step back. You noticed his eyes were drawn to your name tag.

"Why don't you turn me in? You could call your friends at S.H.I.E.L.D and all your problems would be solved."

"What problems?"

"Me, I'm still here. The robot that tried to end humanity." He gestured to himself, almost as if he hated himself but you shook your head. You were taken aback by his body language; he wasn't threatened or had any malicious intent, he was....miserable.

"All the problems we faced, they never traced back here. You're not a problem.....you've been sitting in this old place, completely silent. That's mad respect. Also, you could always....go out? The world, it's full of–"

"Machines, drones, androids.....I know."

"You're afraid." You blurted out, you held every urge not to grab duct tape and seal your mouth. Ultron's shoulders slumped, his optics staring at the ground.

"Why do you care?" He growled. "I've had two people I trusted and they backstabbed me."

Instead of stepping back, you took a few steps forward. "Cause I can relate to you.....you hate humanity, and I understand why. However, from what I know; you saw the evil in us. How about I show you the good? It may not be enough to outweigh the bad, but I'm hoping it'll balance it out."

"Why?"

"I'm lonely, like you."

[whumpqin]

The Rules

Whew, this one kind of kicked my butt when I was trying to write it, but here it is! It’s currently 7AM but I’m still posting this. Hope yall are ready for some more pain :3c

Takes place after Welcome Home

Taglist! @imagination1reality0 @faewhump

Content Warnings: Pet whump, starvation and dehydration as a means of control, dehumanization, collars, muzzles, noncon touching, some parts straight up torture used as punishment, creepy / intimate whumpers, usage of knives, brief blink and you’ll miss it emetophobia warning, licking up stuff off of the ground (?), kind of monster whump I guess, and probably some other things that I forgot to tag! Just lemme know if I need to edit.

They had decided to let him rot in their basement for the day. Alone and in the dark.

When Elisha finally woke on the stone floor, muzzled and hands bound behind his back to make him immobile, he wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for the peace and quiet or be afraid of the loneliness that would inevitably set in.  He waited, minutes turning into hours, for them to come down and do whatever they were going to do to him, but they never came.

For once, he had actually felt lucky that he was a Cambion. Darkness had never been a favorite of his, but his inhuman eyes were able to just barely pierce through the unseen veil so that he could at least catch flickers of the prison that they had put him in.

Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing to look at. Besides the chains that bound him to the wall farthest from the exit, from escape, it was bare stone and wooden pillars that held the house up. Or at least, he assumed they were living in a house. He couldn’t be sure. 

He had tested how long the chains were by pacing - the only thing he could do at the given moment - and found that it wasn’t long at all. At the halfway point of the room it stopped, pulling taut and cutting off his circulation. But Elisha still paced, to feel something other than the metal lying across his skin, the strip of leather they put around his neck. He tried not to think about the collar.

And no matter how hard he tried to think about what was going on to distract himself, he still couldn’t understand why they were doing this to him. He dreaded finding out.

Elisha did, however, try. He figured this was some horrific game that they hadn’t let him in on. But Ari, the one who had drugged him, had called him a pet, talked to him like he was some sort of stupid dog, and he found himself trying to escape the fear that rattled in his skull again.

If they plan on making me their lap dog they’re going to have one hell of a fight on their hands, his instincts hissed in his ear over and over, aggressive at even the slightest provocation. Elisha always shook his head to try and get rid of those thoughts, but this one whispered over and over. He kept having to remind himself that fighting was going to get him killed by these people.

He continued to pace, continued to think. Every once in a while he stretched, extending his hands that were tied behind his back in an effort to soothe the ache that had carefully worked its way into his joints because of the strange position they were in. But no matter how hard he tried to wonder, tried to make sense of everything, he never came any closer to an answer that would satisfy him, would give him a reason why they picked him of all people.

Maybe there wasn’t an answer.

Elisha forced himself to sit, feeling the weakness in his limbs. They hadn’t given him any food or water, or anything comfortable, really. Nothing.

His shoulders slumped as he curled his tail into his own hands. There really was nothing to do but wait.

After what felt like hours, the sound of a creaking door opening alerted him. His head lifted from its lowered position to see small bits of light that peeked through the opening. Footsteps echoed down into the small room, and he soon saw two figures step down. Elisha was finally able to stare at both of the faces of his kidnappers.

Ari regarded him with a playful amusement, definitely looking down on him in a condescending way. Jer, on the other hand, seemed neutral and not nearly as interested in this as his partner seemed. He held a metal pipe that was as long as one of his legs, and Elisha felt a twisted dread in his stomach.

Ari reached up and flicked a light on. Elisha squinted as he was blinded yet again.

“Hello, pet,” they said with a bright smile. As they shifted, he saw that they were holding something behind their back. “Did you have a good nap?”

He wanted to say are you kidding me? On instinct, but his muzzle prevented any such movement.

Ari didn’t seem to notice, nor care, that he couldn’t give them an answer. “I bet you’re wondering what’s really going on, aren’t you?” They accented their words with a quick chuckle, as they reached a hand over to Jer, who placed the pipe in their hands. “Come here and kneel, and I might tell you.”

The dread curling and twisting in Elisha’s stomach dropped suddenly like a rock. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he saw Ari tap the ground in front of them. They had made the words sound so innocent, but he could tell that something sinister lied behind those eyes. He could see it in both of them.

His instincts told him both fight and flight. He wanted to get free and attack and tear them to pieces so that he could get away from here. But the bindings around his hands bit down more so than they had been, grimly reminding him of how trapped he was. Elisha took in a shaky breath as he stood up and took careful steps forward.

It felt horrible, to walk to your own demise.

The chain pulled taut, just before the place where Ari had told him to go. He tried to pull, to break it somehow, but it was too strong for him. Elisha looked to them with pleading, tearful eyes as they tapped the ground again.

There was no sympathy to be offered. “Are you not going to listen to me? Tsk, shame. And to think we could have been friends.” Ari looked to Jer with a incredulous expression. “Whatever, guess I’ll have to punish you for this, too. Kneel where you are.”

This was ruined from the start. Ari had no intentions of him even being able to obey. And now he had to just sit here and take whatever “punishment” they were going to deal out?

Everything was screaming for him to run. Elisha’s skin crawled as his instincts chastised him for kneeling, limbs twitching with a horrible panic that he just couldn’t shake. He can’t run. He couldn’t run, especially so with the air of fear that coursed through his veins so intensely that he wasn’t able to do anything but stare at the pipe as it was raised into the air.

When it came down, all he saw was stars.

Pain blossomed across his face as Elisha collapsed to the ground. Immediate regret of not doing anything racked his body much like the pain, and a low whine left his lungs through his nose. He tried to curl inwards, to protect himself somewhat, as another blow struck across his ribs. Even the thin layer of clothing that he somehow still had wasn’t enough to soften the spike of pain that echoed inside, as he felt something crack from the third blow.

Then it stopped. Elisha sat still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut in fear of what might happen, waiting for blows that never came.

It was too easy. He peeked an eye open, looking up to his captors as they both watched him carefully.

“He takes pain pretty well,” Jer commented. Then, with a small smile - which is the only expression Elisha’s seen from him thus far - he looked to Ari. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Oh, that’s great for us.” They looked back down to their target, a chilling grin on their face. “Hold still pet, there’s still more to come. Remember when you didn’t stay quiet in the car for me?” Elisha let out a muffled whimper, arms struggling from the need to defend himself as he squirmed on the ground.

Ari quickly raised the pipe and swung, catching him in the shoulder this time. It continued another two blows, hitting him in a different area each time. Elisha let out a low groan behind the muzzle, feeling aches and pains all over his body as they stood to admire their work.

There was the sound of someone whistling, and he looked up to see Ari’s smile. That damned smile.

“Oh, Jeremiah look at that. God, I wish I had a camera right now… these are the kind of moments you don’t want to forget,” they murmured, all too loud for Elisha to hear. They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“Weren’t you the one who said phones were a ploy by the government to arrest ‘honest working people’?” Jer- or Jeremiah - said, raising his fingers in air quotes.

“I want a camera, not a shitty wiretap. There’s a difference.” They huffed a forceful breath, returning their gaze to Elisha, who lay motionless on the ground. He was afraid to move, lest he cause himself to hurt everywhere. He was already getting a headache. “Anyway, go ahead and take off the muzzle. I’ll go get some water.” Elisha perked up at the idea of water, swallowing as they felt the dryness in their own throat, and Ari seemed to notice, too. “Yeah? You want some water? Be a good boy for my friend here, and we’ll see about that, hm?”

Their tone was so condescending it hurt, but it could also be the aches from the impact sites of the pipe. Ari laughed as they went upstairs, high pitched and sweet and entirely not what Elisha would imagine an evil monster to make as a sound. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes and dripped to the ground as he watched Jeremiah get to his knees and lean down.

Elisha’s breath hitched as his rough fingers found the buckles on his face and began to undo them. Jeremiah thumbed over a point of impact, making him whine in pain and squirm at the discomfort.

“Stay still,” he said, voice low and commanding. Elisha nodded, fearful of what might happen should he not obey.

The muzzle was slowly drawn away off of his face, careful of the short horns that rested on his head, and laid to the side. Elisha watched it for a moment before returning his eyes to Jeremiah as he prodded the injured skin.

“Pl-please…” he begged. Elisha couldn’t reach Ari, they were too much a monster all on their own, but he figured he might as well try with Jeremiah. “Please help me… I just- I just want to go home, please…”

Jeremiah watched him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he ran his thumb over Elisha’s cheek, making him flinch from the pain. “You are home, pet.”

The hopelessness washed over him like a tidal wave, and Elisha couldn’t stop a few pained sobs from escaping him. He was trapped, like a helpless animal, with these people who wanted to do nothing good with him. He was alone.

Elisha heard Ari coming back down the steps, and Jeremiah drew away from him to set the muzzle somewhere else. They caught him before he turned away, handing the pipe over.

“I think I figured out which name we should pick,” he murmured as he took the pipe. Elisha felt another pang of fear rattle around in his chest.

“Oh? Which one?”

“Caleb. I think it fits the best.” The muted passion in Jeremiah’s voice made the ever-growing pit in his stomach grow larger.

Elisha saw Ari put a hand on their chin in thought, a glass of clear liquid in the other. Water. He felt the dryness in his throat worsen at the idea of being so close to drinking something.

“Hm, alright. I did give you the choice.” They suddenly looked at him with such an intensity it made him flinch back. “Then it’s settled! Pet, your new name is Caleb!”

“No, please,” he begged, before he could really stop himself. “Please, my, my name isn’t Caleb, it’s- ack!”

He was interrupted by his own cry of pain as Ari stamped over to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. The smile they wore held a sadistic tinge to it, and it was entirely too close to be well meaning.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? You don’t get a choice in this.” They let go of his hair and let him fall back to the ground. Ari loomed over them, triumphant, as Elisha kept quiet, mostly out of fear. “We can do whatever the hell we want with you. Because we own you, got it?”

Fearful of what would happen if he did anything else, Elisha nodded against his own best judgement.

“Good, now you’re getting it. But not quick enough. Guess I’ll have to take your sip for you, hm?” Ari dramatically lifted the glass, taking a large gulp of water, sighing in relief. “Alright, now get up on your knees, Caleb. Maybe you can earn this water another way, hm?”

Elisha hated that name. He hated that Ari was essentially bribing him with the thought of water to get him to do whatever they wanted. He hated most of all that it worked.

With several whimpers and whines, he struggled to pick himself up off of the ground and sit on his knees again. Ari set the glass of water far out of reach, where he could still see it.

“You’ll learn to like it here, but there are rules you have to follow,” Jeremiah said. For a brief moment he wondered if he had gone through something similar with Ari, but he couldn’t be sure. The sinister glint in his eye told Elisha otherwise.

“Since this is your first time, we decided to maybe play a fun little game with you.” Ari drew something from their pocket, clicked something on it and a knife flipped out of it. “You say your rules right, and you’ll just get a little cut to remember it by. If not, Jeremiah here hits you with that pipe again.”

Elisha knew he wasn’t going to like this game. But, he didn’t want to get hit by that pipe again for going against what they wanted. He swallowed as he watched their expressions, horrifically neutral, and nodded.

“Oh-okay. I can, um… I can do that,” he murmured.

The two exchanged a look, a thousand words in the slightest twitch of expression that Elisha couldn’t read them all. The thought of not being able to know was disconcerting, especially when he wasn’t sure if it meant pain or not.

Jeremiah sat back on his heels as he looked down to Elisha. “Alright them. One. Your Masters should always be addressed as Master. Repeat it.”

Confident that he got the gist of it, he nodded. “Always, um, call you… M-Ma-” a tear slipped down his cheek as he tried to get the word out, and Jeremiah raised the pipe, “Ma-Master! Please, I said it, please don’t!”

“Wrong. You need to say it exactly, no ‘ums’ or stuttering.” Mercilessly he swung the pipe again, catching Elisha on the opposite arm. He cried out, following up with sobs of pain as he felt the ache settle under his skin. “Say it again.”

“Please… I, I don’t know, I can’t remember what you said…” He felt his chest clench as the pipe was raised again, fear coursing through his veins with every heartbeat that thudded in his ears. “Wait, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I can say it, ju-just say it again and I can repeat it, please, please don’t!”

The metal caught him across the side of the face this time, dazing him long enough that he nearly toppled to the ground. Elisha gritted his teeth in a groan as he curled inwards on an instinct to protect his body. Then he remembered Ari’s command, how they wanted him to stay on his knees. After a brief, merciful moment to collect himself, he lifted his face back up to Jeremiah.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ari lean against the side of the wall, that evil glimmer in their eyes again. With a sickening twist of his stomach, which he couldn’t tell was from hunger or fear, he realized that they were enjoying this.

Only a real devil could enjoy something like this, he wryly thought.

“Say it. Your Masters should always be addressed as Master.” Jeremiah’s expression was cold. Calculative. He was watching for a mistake to happen so that he could punish without mercy.

“My…” Elisha paused as he nearly said it again, fearful of the pipe that he held so delicately in his hands. “Masters, should… always be, ah-addressed as Master!” His voice raised as Jeremiah’s gaze narrowed, his nervous nature getting the best of him as he sped through the rest of the words.

“Not good enough. It has to be perfect.” This time it landed on the other side of his ribs, and though it glanced off of him he still felt the brief pain. Elisha cried out mostly in fear, keeling over as other aches surged in the wake of the blow. “Your Masters should always be addressed as Master.”

He took a few deep breaths, trying to remember breathing exercises he saw on the internet once. “My… Masters…” In. “should always be…” Out. “addressed as Master.”

“Good boy.” Jeremiah smiled at him. It didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced over to Ari, who moved behind Elisha.

“Very good boy,” Ari muttered, feeling his arms. “This should be a good spot.”

Something stung against his skin, and Elisha gasped and hissed in pain as a knife dug into his forearm. He forgot this part was happening, forgot that Ari mentioned being cut as a reward. Elisha squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Ari pull away.

“Two. Never question your Masters.”

At least this was easy enough. “Never… question my Masters…” Elisha’s head turned to catch a brief sight of Ari’s pale skin drawing close again.

He knew he must’ve done something good, because he felt the bite of the knife dig into his forearm again. It drew away just as quick, and he felt Ari pat him on the head.

“Your teeth look pretty when you’re in pain. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?” Ari laughed, close enough that Elisha could feel their breath hit the back of his neck, and he couldn’t help the shudder that crawled up his spine.

“Three. Do what you are told, regardless of the consequences.” He felt Ari draw away again, just slightly.

“Do… wh-what I’m told, regardless… of the… consequences.” Elisha swallowed thickly, closing their eyes. This time, he knew he messed up, especially when Jeremiah sighed in disappointment.

He heard him shift and move, and he peeked an eye open just as the metal swung and hit him in the stomach. Elisha wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, falling down to the ground as he gasped for air. He struggled to breathe through his breaking sobs of pain, resting his head on the ground for just a moment.

Getting back up was crucial in this moment, but his head hurt and moving about was like setting himself on fire and he felt like he was going to throw up from the nausea. Elisha needed to get up, he knew that, but everything hurt in ways that he never had before that he just curled up where he lay. The pipe prodded him, mocking him, and he gasped as his ribs shifted in ways they definitely weren’t supposed to.

“Get up, Caleb. Or I’m going to hit you again.” The pipe dragged across the floor, making an awful dragging sound that made Elisha cringe.

There was a pitiful whimper that sneaked out as a replacement for words that would ask for more time to recover from the hits. He just felt so weak, and trying to lift himself back up was a feat on its own. The next blow from the pipe went unprotected, and he cried out and sobbed as something else shifted in the wrong direction.

“Mm… this is already getting boring,” Ari muttered, prodding Elisha’s tail with a foot before it swept away and curled around his form. “Why don’t we trade, and cut him up until he gets it right?”

“You’re the one who suggested the pipe, Aridai. Just shut up for a minute.” Again he was prodded with the pipe, eliciting a whimper of pain from the gasping body. “Get up, Caleb.”

Without really thinking, Elisha shook his head. An admittance of defeat, to somehow say that he couldn’t do what they wanted.

He wasn’t cut out for this. He never was.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Fingers painfully tangled into his hair again, lifting him up to his knees. Aridai’s hands swept over his horns, but without any real curls to them there was no grasping them. Not yet. “Y’know, if we let these grow out, they’d make good handles or something.”

“Besides the point. Caleb,” Jeremiah appeared in his vision, waving a small hand to make sure that he was coherent. Elisha made a small whimper in return. “Good. Three. Do what you are told, regardless of the consequences. Repeat it.”

“Do… what I’m told… regardless… of the consequences…” the words were breathed out, as Elisha continued to try and get his breathing under control. He closed his eyes as another wave of dizziness fell over him, but with Ari-Aridai still holding him there was nowhere for him to go.

“Yaay, good boy!” They seemed genuinely excited as they grabbed onto his shoulder. Something small and metal was drug across the floor, and Elisha felt the painful impact of the knife slide across their skin.

“Four. Always ask for permission.”

“Always…” His mouth clamped shut as he nearly added an ‘um’ after, stopping his own blunder. He took in another deep breath to try and calm himself, even though it wasn’t helping as much now. “Ask… for permission.”

Another slice in his skin told him that he was being good. The feelings of both being relieved and horrified coiled around him as the knife drew away and he gasped for air. It felt awful that he would rather be cut than hit with a pipe, when he shouldn’t have to choose between either of them.

“Five. Always remember to thank your Masters.” Jeremiah shifted his weight, drawing the pipe across the ground. Elisha flinched into Aridai’s grip, which somehow felt cold and callous.

“Always… remember to… to thank your Masters,” he repeated after just a few short moments.

“Mm… nope, not quiet,” muttered Aridai. They let go of Elisha, who wavered and fell to the ground again.

Another hit from the pipe against his ribs, and he let out a low keen as the other aches fired up again. He just wanted to be left alone, he was much too weak for this. Even the water seemed like such a pointless goal, with all the pain that he had to endure just to get it.

You need it, his instincts whispered, clearly not understanding the situation.

“Get up, Caleb,” Jeremiah ordered above him.

He shook his head, not of defiance but of defeat once again. Elisha didn’t want to do this anymore. Just leave me alone…

“Aww… does the poor little one want to give up?” Aridai said in a mocking tone, as if he were talking to a stupid animal. It was humiliating, but he nodded his head, feeling his cheeks grow hotter than they had been. “Alright, I get it… but you have to finish your rules before we can leave.” Hands petted through his hair, and he couldn’t even fight them off. “Just be a good boy for us and it can all end that much sooner, okay? I’ll even hold you up.”

Don’t do it. They’re just trying to manipulate you. He had seen this tactic before, on TV shows he used to watch. Give in a little bit, and then they get you to do all sorts of things. Elisha closed his eyes as a lump found its way to his throat. Then he nodded.

“Good.” He was lifted up by his shoulders, and Elisha hissed as the stinging pain traveled to everywhere else that was hurting (which was just about everywhere, now.) “Go on, Jer.”

“Five. Always remember to thank your Masters.”

He swallowed. “Always… remember to… thank my Masters.” The slice of skin, signaling that he got it right.

“Six. Do not speak unless spoken to.”

“Do not speak… unless spoken to.”

“Good boy, Caleb,” Aridai muttered, digging into him once again.

This hurt. All of this hurt, from hearing these rules to saying them to the punishments and “rewards” that he was getting to the horrific praises that Ari was whispering from behind them as they carved into their arm. Elisha would cry, but he didn’t think that he had any water left in his body to do it.

To grant him just a sliver of mercy, however, he was lucky enough to be able to repeat the rest of the words.

“Never… leave the house… unless given explicit permission.”

“Pets don’t sit on the furniture.” 

“Good boy,” Jeremiah praises this time. For once Elisha is thankful to actually hear his voice, but it’s only because Aridai didn’t get to say anything.

The last cut held more relief than pain. Elisha hardly felt it, in fact, before they were suddenly pulling away from him and reappearing in his vision. Aridai held a bright smile on their face as they reached down and picked up the water. Finally. He actually perked up at the sight of it, waiting for him to approach and give him something to drink.

Aridai laughed in his face. “Oh, did you think that you were going to get this? Weren’t you the one who wanted to give up? No, I don’t think so.” They reached out to the side-

And tipped the water over so that it spilled into the floor beside Elisha.

“We’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have shaped up by then, hm?”

They turned away, reaching for Jeremiah and wrapping an arm around him like a couple of buddies would. Like they hadn’t just relentlessly tortured someone. Elisha felt bile rise in his throat as he watched the two of them walk away like they had just watched a movie.

“So, how did you like that?” Aridai asked, shaking him a little bit to expunge some of the boundless energy that they seemed to have.

“That was… amazing. I can’t wait to do it again,” Jeremiah repeated, and he caught the slightest smile on their face as they retreated upstairs.

Elisha slumped forward, nearly choking himself from the chain as the collar tugged his throat. He scooted backwards, aching and tired and still so thirsty. It all had been for nothing. His gaze traveled to the water, slowly running down the ever so slight decline that it could find. Humiliation crept in, even alone as he stared at it.

He leaned down and lapped the water off of the floor.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta

Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)

Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.

Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.

In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.

“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”

“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.

So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?

By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.

“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”

There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.

“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”

“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”

“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.

“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”

“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.

“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”

“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.

“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.

Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.

Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.

I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home

As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.

When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.

[drarryruinedme7]

Prompt! Prompt! Prompt! Prompt! Pls do something with Drarry and hugging. You know me, I'm not original, i Just want our boys to hug, PLSSSSSSS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Lovely @rose-grangerweasleyisbae , you asked hugs and! Hugs shall I deliver! ❤️

The usual love to my wonderful beta @rockmarina ❤️.

Drarry | Rating: Teen and Up | Word count: 1.5K | Tags: hugs, two soft boys in love, Lucius is a cold father, Pansy and Draco are pure friends | READ IT ON AO3.

Men never, ever, ever hug other men

“Draco, you can’t say I love you like that, it is an important deal. I’ve told you too many times, I’m tired of always repeating the same thing,” Lucius admonished his son, staring at him with arctic eyes.

Draco froze, his eyes already shining with tears. “But…I understood what you told me, Father. I can’t say I love you to anyone who’s not my partner, because love is a fiction, and we, as Purebloods, must know when to play the right cards — ”

Lucius nodded, visibly cheered up by his son’s words. “Then why did you say I love you to Pansy, just a moment ago?”

Draco tightened his lips and looked at Pansy. She was slightly trembling; she had confessed to him that Lucius terrified her. He felt a lump forming in his throat, but he couldn’t cry in front of his Father. That was another rule they had. Malfoys never showed their weaknesses in front of anyone, not even their family.

He swallowed his tears and tried to talk steadily. “Because…we are friends, she hugged me and I felt like it…I — ”

Lucius shook his head, sighing. “Of course you did, Draco, she’s your friend and you’ve grown fond of her. That doesn’t mean you can go and say I love you just like that. You have to be careful what you say, to whom you’re saying it, when, and why. Four W’s, it’s all you have to remember.”

Draco nodded. He looked up to avoid tears streaming down his lashes and didn’t blink. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry.”

Lucius turned to Pansy, satisfied. “I’m glad you are friends with my son, Pansy, but you should have learned by now a Pureblood lady never shows affection for anyone who’s not their husband, no matter the age. You are children, but surely you can understand simple things like these. Don’t embarrass your family again, is it clear?”

Pansy’s eyebrows were knitted, her lips trembling; her efforts to avoid tearing up in front of Lucius Malfoy were evident. She shared a panicked look with Draco, who nodded to prod her. She cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr Malfoy. I am sorry if I caused distress between our families.”

Lucius smiled and briefly puffed her cheek. “Don’t exaggerate, Pansy, no such thing happened. I welcome your friendship, but our families aren’t betrothed, so beware, okay?”

The children nodded, not daring to look at each other now. Lucius stood up and left the room, wishing them a good day with their games.

But they didn’t play together anymore that day. They went to Draco’s favourite spot in Malfoy Manor’s gardens and talked about love, friendship, Pureblood rules and families.

Draco was nine. That’s when he started to suspect all those things about Purebloods and Half-bloods, Mud-bloods and Muggles were just a big pile of bullshit. But neither he nor Pansy had the courage to say so out loud. They’d learned their lesson.

*****

Draco was eighteen the first time he hugged someone again who wasn’t his partner. He had started the so-called Eighth-year at Hogwarts and he shared a common room with all of his former classmates, without house distinctions.

For House Unity, McGonagall had said.

Draco found himself sharing a room with Harry bloody Potter.

Again, for House Unity, McGonagall had said.

After the first months spent side-eyeing the other while they got ready for bed, sharing awkward moments — “Fuck, Potter, close the door when you’re in the bathroom!” — and staying silent most of the time, things changed.

A few days before Christmas, Draco came back to their room with his face covered in blood. He slammed the door behind him and launched himself on the bed, smearing the pillow with blood. Potter didn’t say anything — he just approached him.

“Do you need help with that?”

Draco replied with his mouth pressed against the pillow. “I most certainly don’t need our precious Saviour’s help. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you get involved with such a filthy piece of scum like me.”

Potter’s tone seemed amused, the git. “Is this what they told you while beating the shit out of you?”

Draco slowly turned his head to scowl at him. “What do you want, Potter?”

He shrugged. “To help you.”

Draco rolled his eyes but sat up on the bed. He spat, “Stupid Saviour, with his stupid Hero Complex. I’m perfectly fine.”

Without bothering for an answer, Potter raised a hand to brush his fingers against Draco’s cheek, where a deep cut was drenching his skin. Draco winced, taken aback. The fucking wound hurt.

Potter smirked. “You don’t seem perfectly fine.” He brushed his fingers on Draco’s cut again and Draco felt heat tickling his skin, followed by a strong pulling all around the edges of the cut. Potter had healed his stupid cut with fucking wandless and wordless magic.

Even worse, Potter’s magic prickling his skin had done weird things to Draco, who was now feeling shivers running down his spine and butterflies hovering in his stomach.

He cleared his throat and tried to assume a cold stare. “I didn’t say you could heal me! And, and — you’re a show-off! Yeah!” He pushed Potter’s chest backwards, but something even weirder happened.

Potter grabbed Draco’s hands on his chest, pulling him up with him until they were standing mere inches apart, so close that Potter’s breath was ghosting over his chin. Draco felt those goddamn shivers again.

Potter sucked in a breath and whispered, “You shouldn’t believe them. You’ve done some shit, but you aren’t evil. You are worth living, you are worth feeling, and you are worth studying here with all of us.”

Draco felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. His knees buckled and he lost balance, falling like a thin leaf between Potter’s arms. Potter held Draco against his chest, gripping tight, stroking his back while Draco let his tears soak Potter’s pyjamas. He started to sob, muttering incoherent apologies — for what he’d done, for what he hadn’t done — telling Potter he was wrong, that he wasn’t worth living, nor surviving the war.

Potter didn’t say anything — he just embraced Draco tight against his chest, lulling him through his crisis.  

When Draco felt like he had nothing else to say, to cry out, no more tears to shed, he sniffled and reached with his arms for Potter’s back, finally able to return the hug. Shame instilled in Draco’s chest and he hid his face in the crook of Potter’s neck, hoping he’d vanish that instant.

No such luck.

He was very solid and concrete against Potter and he suddenly felt like laughing. So, he did. He started with a quiet snort that soon became proper laughter, his voice thundering out of his mouth like a fountain of living waters.

Potter let go of him, regarding him with wrinkled eyebrows, but soon started laughing with him, eyes quickly filling up with tears.

They let their bodies fall on Draco’s bed, still laughing. Draco huffed and stretched a hand on his face, trying to get a hold on himself. “Fuck, Potter, that was weird. You know, my Father…” He glanced at Potter, not sure he could talk about Lucius in front of him. But he didn’t seem baffled; he was looking at Draco expectantly, his head crooked, his eyes intent, his lips half raised.

“Erm, right, my Father always told me that I shouldn’t hug anyone who wasn’t my partner. That it wouldn’t be appropriate. This is the first time someone has hugged me in almost ten years.” He let out a bitter laugh, that didn’t match Potter’s this time.

He was looking at Draco with his face scrunched up, eyebrows knitted. His arms wrapped around Draco’s shoulders once again. “Fucking Merlin’s tits, that’s horrible. And sad. Everyone needs hugs.”

Starting that day, Harry made a habit of hugging Draco literally everywhere and in every moment of the day, no matter if there was a good reason for it or if it was appropriate. He would just turn to him or reach him, wrap his strong arms around Draco’s waist or neck or shoulders, and hold him tight, whispering in his ear he was worth it.

One day, towards the end of the year, they were all sunbathing near the Black Lake together, relishing the calm of being real teenagers, finally. Harry was sat with his back against a tree, and Draco was resting against his chest, Harry’s hands on his belly.

Ron rolled his eyes and pouted. “For Godric’s sake, will you kiss already? It’s been ages since you started hugging like bloody children all over the place! Just get on with it!”

Draco felt his face growing hot and thanked the sun, that was probably burning his skin, for hiding his embarrassment. He knew his feelings towards Harry were slowly melting into something beyond friendship, but they had never talked about it.

He was wondering what he could possibly reply to something like that, with all of their friends staring at them, when he felt Potter’s heartbeat quickening against his back and his breath faltering against his ear. His voice trembled. “Maybe you’re right.”

Before Harry’s words could completely sink in, Draco found himself drowned in Harry’s mouth, his lips hot and wet, his teeth gently nipping at his bottom lip, his tongue darting inside, making Draco dizzy with joy.

His Father could be damned, with his stupid rules and his men never, ever, ever hug other men.

[sebastianshaw]

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes - I felt bad you weren’t getting a lot of Pyro content in canon, so I wrote you some!

The next member of their team was meant to be arriving today. She was going to be a...most unusual addition. She was human. Pyro didn’t like it. The entire POINT of Krakoa was to keep away from humans who would hurt them. And sure this human allegedly very much did NOT want that, it was why Xavier handpicked her to be involved, and Xavier could vet a person inside and out...but Pyro couldn’t help WORRYING. Maybe she wasn’t a conscious plant, but what if someone was using her without her knowing? How was Xavier checking for THAT? Maybe the rest of Krakoa was happy to put their fate in the hands of men like him and Magneto and Sebastian Shaw, but Pyro was of the firm opinion that the guys on top never really had the best interest of the bottom at heart. But that didn’t mean he’d pass up a chance to roast some Verendi pigs, which was what had just been provided---the ship of their new ally had been attacked en route, big surprise, and thus the current crew of the Marauder---Sebastian, Shinobi, and Pyro---had been deployed to intervene. Shinobi kept their own boat safe while Pyro and Sebastian boarded the other---just in time to witness one of the Verendi hurling a sari-clad woman off the deck by her throat. “Allerdyce, take care of the rest,” said Shaw, tearing his shirt and jacket off with his bear---er, bare---hands. Not taking it off, literally TEARING. “Are you kidding?!” Pyro asked, shocked both at Shaw’s apparent intentions and at how beefed up the old bastard was under those tailored suits. Like he had eyes, he could tell the guy was huge, but JEEZUS. “I’m not having my team fail this early,” Shaw said, “And besides--” The rest came out mid-air as he dove into the drink, “--you’re hardly in swimming shape.” Secretly hoping he ‘teammate’ drowned, Pyro returned to the fray, gleefully keeping the Verendi at bay with his flames. That was the easy part. The hard part was not blowing them up in their stupid suits, or boiling them alive, or--- “ALLERDYCE!” he heard the oh-so-charming shout of his new ‘boss’ barking for him, just as the fun was over. “What, did you--” Pyro started to ask as he hustled over, admittedly not as fast as he could have. “Do the damn chest compressions!” Shaw cut him off. The woman, soaking wet and unconscious--or worse--was laid out on the deck. “Why--” “Because at my current strength I will pulverize her bones!” Shaw bellowed. Pyro didn’t like taking orders from Shaw, but he wasn’t about to let this lady die right in front of him either if half of what he’d heard about her was true, no matter what his misgivings might be about involving her in the Marauders. So he duly obeyed with the compressions, as well as mouth to mouth just so Shaw couldn’t. Because f this woman was an ally to mutantkind she deserved better than that. It worked. She gasped, her body jolting. “Alright, there she is” said Shaw, “You keep her conscious, Allerdyce---someone has to steer this ship.” With that, he departed to find the helm and radio Shinobi to let him know all was well, and knock out any remaining hostiles. Pyro glared at his back as he went, but then quickly turned his attention back to the semi-conscious woman, who was moving slightly now, her eyes glazed. She said something unsteadily in a foreign language. Well, in a language that wasn’t English; Pyro had been a foreigner in Southeast Asia and learned it really a matter of perspective. Speaking of that... “That Gujarati, love?” he asked gently. He couldn’t speak it nor understand it, but he thought he recognized it. He’d never got as far as India in his travels as a journalist, but he’d encountered this language in Singapore, Indonesia, and Malayasia. Sounded a bit different from her though, maybe because she was from India directly. Or just because she was terribly waterlogged. She mumbled something else weakly in the same tongue, putting one of her hands to her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak it,” he said, truly apologetic. The was woman silent for a moment, and her eyes closed. Oh no. Had he lost her? God, Shaw was never going to let him hear the end of it! Then she opened them, and said, “I apologize, I do speak English, I just...needed a moment.” “Take two, you earned ‘em,” Pyro smiled relieved. She began sitting up slowly, and Pyro helped her. “I...assume you saved me?” “Well, I helped,” he said, then amended, “Someone else go you out from the drink but I did the rest, getting you breathing again and all.” “Thank you, so much, I really have no idea what to say,” she sounded rather awed. Oh man, he’d forgotten what it was like to be a superhero! He’d never much cared for that life in general, the idea of just DOING things for people for nothing in return, especially people who HATED you for EXISTING as a mutant, but there had been a few times in Freedom Force like this where he felt really GOOD when people were actually grateful. “Aw it’s---it’s nothing, all in a day’s work really,” he said, puffing his chest as best he could, which was nigh-imperceptible given how skinny he was. “You have my deepest gratitude all the same. You also have a good ear---that was indeed Parsi Gujarati. “Ohhh!” Pyro was pleased he’d been right, “Is that why it sounded a bit off from what I heard ‘round Jakarta?” “You do indeed have a good ear! Yes, it’s very distinct. For instance, we use much softer consonants-- They were interrupted by Shaw’s sardonic tone over the intercom, “ I can see our guest is conscious, Mr. Allerdyce, so if you’re quite done flirting, send her to the helm for briefing before we get to the portal. At your leisure, of course.” Pyro did not say ass aloud but it was very, very much written on his face. *** Pyro was waking up waaay to early at Blackstone, specifically in Shinobi’s ridiculously oversized bed, Shinobi himself beside him. Pyro could tell his companion was going to be out cold for a long time yet, and probably wish he’d slept longer when he did wake up. Pyro would have preferred to just stay in bed himself, but nature called. And after a good long piss into the en suite bathroom---kind of surprised that the toilet wasn’t solid gold, although it did have more features than Shinobi’s phone---Pyro himself had yet to adjust to fancy celluars---found himself restless, and undergoing his typical post-drinking cravings for something salty. Kind of weird since wasn’t booze supposed to dehydrate you, but whatever, old man Shaw surely had some kind of super-fancy dried unicorn meat from a lost continent or whatever hanging around somewhere. He just needed to find it. But the place was a maze. Gilded maze, he made a mental note of that for one of his novels as he wandered the huge halls, intending to use it in the internal monologue of the heroine lost in the Marquis’s opulent mansion that nonetheless held an overbearing evil in its walls as potent and palpable in the air as that in his black heart. Actually shit, some of the decor in this place would make for great--- “Wider than a highway, huh?” Pyro had been so lost in cataloguing the fancy bric-a-brac along the way that he’d not noticed it had been joined by a flesh and blood person. Well, maybe flesh and blood, they looked silver. Certainly all the skin he could see was, which was a lot given their short little black robe, though he in his boxers certainly wasn’t about to be scandalized. Wait, silver skin? “Mindmeld, right?” “Shinobi tell you about me?” she was smirking a little. “Yeah, something like that,” he replied. It was suddenly really hard not to say something rude, given WHAT Shinobi had told him, but reminded himself if this woman was fucking Shaw, she deserved PITY more than anything. Plus it wouldn’t do to piss off her off before she told him where she got that coffee cup in her hand. “He didn’t tell me where to find the kitchen though.” “Which one?” Oh god of course there’d be more than one, Shaw probably didn’t want his food prepared in the same area as Shinobi’s guests since they were all people like Pyro. He groaned, lowering his head and burying his long bony fingers in his dandelion puff blond curls, “Just whichever one has some eggs and espresso.” “Come on,” she gestured lightly and turned, leading the way. Damn tall drink of water, might have been taller than Shaw, though far less broad than he was, but more so than Pyro...admittedly, that range probably covered almost everyone on the planet. She didn’t ask his name, so he offered his with some pride, “I’m Pyro, I’m one of the Marauders.” “Neat.” “‘Spect Mr. Shaw has a few things to say about me.” She looked mildly thoughtful a moment, “Uh...no, never mentioned you. I think I’ve heard the Marauders, but not Pyro.” “How about Mr. Allerdyce?” “Definitely not.” Ok, he was kind of insulted now, not by Mindmeld but he took it out on her anyway with a snippy, “Well he hasn’t mentioned you either.” She just gave him a funny look.” “Sorry,” he said abashed at how stupid and spiteful he sounded, “We just don’t get on too well, me and Sebastian.” “What a surprise.” “So you know he’s a pompous asshole.” “Oh yeah, it’s hilarious,” she said, “Like the other day,  these two like, total Eurotrash blonds come in, and he told them they were living proof of how inbreeding ruined the royal Austrian family tree or something, I don’t know, and I just told the guy he shouldn’t wear black if he’s not going to clean the semen stains off it first. The girl, her outfit was great, but nothing I could say was going to be worse than that Basic Bitch haircut.” “So what, you two just hang around talking shit about everyone else like we’re dirt on your shoes?!” Any regret he had about being snippy was suddenly gone. “Yeah, pretty much,” she said, her blase tone not changing. He started to say something else but she turned her head to him and said, tone still the same, “Look, if you’re gonna get precious, I can leave you right here. Next person to find you will probably be him, you know. He’s always up crazy early.” It was a potent threat. Normally Pyro was not afraid at all to deal with that hirsute egomaniac, but in his current state, he was not fit for the battle of barbs. “No, no, lead the way,” he sighed. “Cool,” Mindmeld turned her gaze front again and added, “Sorry you’re mad I’m his dick puppet.” If Pyro had a liquid in his mouth he would have spit it out. He must have made some kind of sound, because she asked, “What, Shinobi not mention that?” “He uh...he mentioned it a lot, yeah. “Good,” she smiled at him, and turned away. Weird. They got to small kitchen, very normal looking. So much so that it felt almost surreally out of place. “Drip’s over there,” Mindmeld pointed. Okay, nice, Shaw had a proper espresso machine. No surprise, he probably kept a full roasting machine and French press and other fancy barista shit in HIS kitchen---he was obviously not using THIS one. While he put on the drip, Mindmeld sat down and started playing idly with a phone left on table, obviously hers. Pyro was sure the bowl of Lucky Charms next to it surely wasn’t Sebastian Shaw’s. “You uh, live here?” “Yeah basically,” she did not look up from her phone, “Beats public housing.” Pyro realized he hadn’t thought about how everyone on Krakoa was living; he’d been basically on a boat the whole time himself. “What, is it bad?” he asked, imagining the crowded slums he’d seen in some of his travels, as well as the crappier apartments he’d stayed in, which was most. “Nah, but this is better.” “Yeah well, the rent seems high to me.” “You just have a different landlord.” “Hey, I’m nobody’s kept--” The espresso shot was ready, and it going off gave him a moment to cool down again. “Sorry, there’s nothing wrong with...with you,” he said, after taking his cup and sitting down across from her, “I just feel bad for Shinobi, he says you two used to be..” . “Together? Kinda, yeah. He tell you the part where he left me to die? or before that, where I was stuck in somebody else’s body and he was still ready to put the guy through a depowering machine while I was inside him?” “I, uh...no.” Was there some kind of mistake? He’d thought Shinobi was harmless. He knew the guy was selfish and spoiled, but it was hard to imagine him that cold. “Yeah, I bet not,” she said, her tone still the same, “He doesn’t seem like he has it in him, does he?” “Uh...no.” “Well, even a rat will bite if it’s back is against the wall,” her eyes rose from her phone and met his intensely, “So if you’re in deep shit, don’t count on him to pull you out.” They went back to her phone,  “He’s beautiful though so, you know, keep doing what you’re doing, I’m not judging.” “Uh...” Pyro had no idea what to say to this, “So is that why...” He had thought it had been money, since anything Shinobi had was actually coming from Sebastian, but now he wondered if it was for... “Vengeance? Pyro nodded. “Could you think of a BETTER way?” Pyro admitted he could not. “You must be pretty dedicated,” he said, still not able to get the ‘ick’ feeling quite out. It wasn’t the idea of sex for benefits his skin was crawling at, it was sex with SHAW. He supposed he could see the physical appeal if that man wasn’t so personally repulsive, but... “I mean, I just came back to life like this month” she shrugged idly, “I’ve got nothing from before to go back to, I’ve got nothing else going on.” “I don’t know, you look like you got it going on to me,” Pyro gave an exaggerated wink. That made her snort-laugh. Okay, he felt they were good now. And he felt suddenly a lot warmer to her. Not from knowing she had better reasons than he thought---the reasons unsettled him actually---but because of how similar their situations were. A situation doubtless shared by many Krakoans but he hadn’t had a real chance yet to talk to many Krakoans. He had planned to spend today fixing that actually, going and finding out if what few friends he’d had in his life before were here now. Like Dom. Wondered if Mindmeld had any, a Dom or a Mort or a Fred. Kinda doubted it, somehow. “Hey, uh, listen,” he began. She looked up from her phone. “Do you wanna go...check out the island with me? I been at sea since I came back, I don’t know what’s on it, but there’s got to be SOMETHING people been doing all day for fun, right?” She regarded him a long moment. “Yeah,” she finally said, “I’d like that."

[imaginationintowords]

Not Good Enough.

Avengers x Reader angst

word count: 2163

Requested.

Plot:  could you do an avengers x reader (no paring) where the reader screws up on a mission and the whole team yells for like a week at her and one day the reader decides to start cutting and this goes on for about a year until one of the avengers grabs their wrist during training and makes the reader shout in pain (rest can be up to you).

[a/n: I changed around some things with this request as I kind of just let the writing take me where the story wants to go. There is no self-harm in this story. sorry to the anon who requested it, if this was not what you wanted. I liked how this turned out, and I hope you guys do also]

_______

It was supposed to be a simple mission that involved the whole team. In and out. That was the plan.

I never meant to cause any trouble. It was a simple mistake. I had the ability to warp time, along with other abilities that were constantly developing.

I don’t know what happened, but as I was trying to hold off bodies, I lost control. I put us in a lot of danger. Half of the ream ended up severely injured. No one would talk to me on the way back to the tower.

“Living room. Now.” Tony said through gritted teeth.

“What the hell happened out there?” Natasha yelled at me, causing me to jump at the sudden volume of her voice.

One bad thing about my abilities was that I can also sense emotions. And all I could feel now was nothing but anger and hatred.

“I-I don’t know. I just lost control.” I stammered.

“How the hell do you fucking lose control?” Tony asked, trying to hold back from yelling.

“I don’t know. One moment I was able to hold time, the next I wasn’t.” I tried to explain.

“That was a rookie mistake.” Steve bit.

“Half of the team is in the infirmary, because of your ‘mistake’.” Steve continued.

“It wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.” I apologized once more, trying to hold back the tears.

“You’re suspended. Until further notice.” Tony said, not bothering to look at me as he walked out of the room.

Natasha gave me an intense evil glare as she walked out of the room.

“I’m very disappointed in you.” Steve said shaking his head, leaving the room, with the rest of the uninjured team following.

I stood there in the middle of the room alone. I didn’t know what to do.

I slowly made my way to my room. As I was walking to my room, I passed Natasha’s and could hear her talking to someone. I couldn’t help but listen.

“I can’t believe he only suspended her. That’s an incredibly light punishment for what happened. She put us all in danger. He has a soft spot for her. He should’ve just let her go. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to work with her again.”

I decided I had heard enough and sulked back to my room.

I quietly closed my door and sat on my bed.

I should probably shower, I’m covered in dirt and blood, not even sure if the blood is mine or not.

I just sat there for a few more minutes, staring ahead at nothing.

I suddenly felt a tiny sharp pain coming from my leg.

I decided it was time to get up and take a shower.

My suit took a bit of strength to get off since the sweat caused it to shrink onto my body.

I was able to get half the suit off my torso. My body was starting to ache, the aftermath of today's events setting in. I took a seat on my closed toilet, as leverage to take the rest of my suit off.

I was slowly peeling the suit off my legs, when that tiny sharp of pain on m left leg became an even bigger sharp of pain.

I was finally able to get the suit off completely. I looked down at my leg to see a massive cut going vertically down my leg, from my shin to my ankle. I didn't even feel this, so I had no clue when I had gotten it.

I should probably go to the infirmary and get it checked out. But I couldn't show my face there, not when most of my team was in there with more serious injuries.

I turned on my shower and stripped off the rest of my clothes.

The water was very hot to the touch once I stepped in. I could instantly feel my body wanting to retreat. After a few seconds it did feel kind of nice, distracted me from the pain coming from my leg. I took my time washing my hair and body.

After awhile I could feel the pain coming back to my leg. I decided it was probably time to get out.

I wrapped my towel around my body. I opened the cabinet under my sink and grabbed the first aid kit that's kept under there.I poured some hydrogen peroxide on it, to make sure it wouldn't get infected. I grabbed a roll of bandage wrap and gauze to cover this cut.

I continued my normal bed time routine, brushed my hair, my teeth, then put on a clean pair of pajamas. I got into bed, when my stomach started to growl.

It was only seven p.m. Everyone would be in the kitchen getting their dinner ready. I know I'm not wanted. It'll just make everyone more upset towards me.

I'll just set my alarm really early before anyone gets up. I'll just stay out of everyone's way for the time being.I'm sure in a week or so, everyone won't be so harsh towards me. I tell myself as I start to fall asleep.

______

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since the incident, and everyone seems to still be just as mad as they were when it happened.

For the first week I managed to avoid everyone. It was easy since I was currently not allowed on missions. On day eight though was my first run in with a teammate.

I had gotten up at four a.m., like I had been for my morning run. I had timed it perfectly, run an hour, have breakfast by five, then back in my room by 5:30, when the early birds would start to wake up. I would typically hear them opening their doors as I was closing mine. But today was different.

When I entered the kitchen after my run, there sat on a stool was Natasha, as if she were waiting for me to return. The last member of the team who would want to see me. Hell, she even changed room floors because she hated me so much.

"Hi." I awkwardly greeted her, walking to the fridge for a water bottle.

She didn't say a thing, she just continued to glare at me.

"I'm just going to grab a bowl of oatmeal then be on my way." I tell her, moving around the kitchen quickly, to get out of her way.

"Why are you still here?" she says as I was pouring water into my dry oats.

"I'm sorry. What?" I timidly asked, not sure I even heard her correctly.

"I said. Why. Are. You. Still. Here." she repeated slowly, getting off of her stool, and making her way towards me. Stopping right in front of me.

"I-" I started to say before she cut me off.

"You don't deserve to be here. You don't deserve to be a part of this team." she viciously spat in my face.

"It was a mistake, Natasha. It's not like I meant to lose control and cause everyone to get hurt." I whispered, felling the lump in my throat start to form.

"None of us would've pulled such a rookie mistake. You're not cut out for any of this. We all think so."

"Really?" I hurtfully ask, feeling the tears begin to form.

"Oh yeah. We've all thought so for awhile now. You're the weakest link on this team. We all think so." she continued to spit vile.

"You do?" I could feel my heart slowly breaking. At this point the tears were beginning to fall.

"Yes. We all do." she smirked.

"Oh." I responded, felling completely lost.

"You should just do all of us a favor and just leave."

"Okay. If you all think that's for the best." I say looking around the room, feeling utterly helpless.

"Yes, we do. You should probably do it before everyone wakes up." she says, stepping away from me, so I can get by.

"Okay." I say, slowly walking out of the kitchen, the bowl of uncooked oatmeal forgotten.

As I was walking out of the room I heard Natasha throwing the bowl into the sink, making me jump from the loudness of it.

I felt like a lost puppy.

Once in my room I looked around. Everyone will be up in about an hour. I don't know how I will get this all done in time.

Time

.Guess one more time stop for the road.I stopped time.

Now I have all the time in the world.

I started with my clothes, then my decor pieces that I brought with me. Then my bedding, and toiletries last. Only thing left was the furniture and television that came with the room.

I made the final decision to leave my laptop and phone too. They were both gifts from Tony when I came to live here, along with a car that would also be staying.

Nothing to tie me in with the Avengers. My final goodbye. Giving them what they want, what they were to afraid to tell me.

I didn't have any hard feelings towards them, I get it. How could they work with me if they didn't trust me. If I was a liability to everyone's lives.

The best thing for me to do was to listen to Natasha and leave.

Will I miss them all? Of course. Who wouldn't. I finally found where I belonged and I went ahead and ruined it.

I took one last deep breath, then unfroze time.

I called a cab, they were five minutes out. I managed to carry out two boxes, and a suitcase of my things in one trip.I stood outside the gates of the compound.

The sun was beginning to rise as my cab pulled up.

The driver helped me load my things in his truck.

I took one final glance at the Avengers compound.

"Goodbye." I whispered before getting into the cab.

_____

After thirty minutes in the cab, I finally arrived to my destination. An apartment building in Queens.

Where it all started.

I thanked the cab driver, and made my way up.

I got to the familiar fifth floor. I made my way down the long hallway to the specific apartment.

On my way there a door was swung open, and out came a teenage boy.

“Oh. Hey [y/n]!” he greeted me, locking his door, before turning to face me.

“Hey Peter. Off to school?” I greeted the familiar face.

“Yup. You moving back in?” he asked looking at my things.

“Yeah. Things weren’t really working upstate.” I tell him, forcing a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure they’re going to beat themselves up for letting someone as smart as you go.” he positively says.

“Thanks, Pete.”

“It’ll be nice to have your face back in these hallways.” he smiles.

“That and now you have a tutor right next door.” I lightly joke with him.

“Caught me. I better get going, don’t want to be late. I’ll come and see you after though.” he waves me bye.

I smiled, my heart slowly warming. Maybe this will be a good thing after all.

I made my way back to my destination, next door.

I knocked on the door and heard footsteps approaching.

“[Y/n]?”

“Hey grandma. You still have space for me?” I smiled, fighting back the tears.

“Oh honey, of course. Come in. Come in.” she said helping me with my things.

Walking into the familiar apartment, where I spent most of my life in. Everything still looked how it did when I left almost two years ago. Here comes the tears again.

“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” my grandma said, placing down my box before wrapping me in her arms.

I wrapped my arms around her tightly, crying into her shoulder.

______

After a few minutes of crying my eyes out and getting all my stuff in my old bedroom, my grandma and I sat in the living room with a nice hot cup of tea.

“What happened? The last we spoke everything was going great.” she says.

“About a couple of weeks ago, a mission went bad, it was my fault. Half of the team got seriously hurt. The whole team was beyond mad, I’ve never felt so much hatred towards me before.” I tell her.

“I was placed on suspension, but apparently that was just the team being nice. They really wanted me out. So, here I am.” I explain, trying not to cry again.

“Oh sweetie. I’m sure that’s not true.” she said rubbing my hand.

“It is though. Natasha told me that everyone doesn’t think I’m good enough to be a part of the Avengers. They all hate me, and I could feel it.”

“I’m sure they don’t hate you.” she said trying to make me feel better.

“Oh but they do. Unfortunately, I was able to feel all the hatred and anger towards me these past couple of weeks.”

“Well then maybe it’s for the best that you’re home. A fresh start. Put one of those PhDs to good use.” she encourages with a smile.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I say, unsure about it all.

“Of course I am. Now, why don’t you go to your room and get settled. It’ll keep that loud mind busy.” she says, tapping my forehead.

_______

I walked into my old room, and closed the door behind me.

I looked around the room. It was smaller than my room at the compound, but still a good size for me.

Maybe my grandma is right, maybe this will be good for me.

A fresh start.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” I smile to myself.

[conartisthaiji]

In which Sayaka saved Kyouko, so Kyouko decides to try and save her too. 

warning: character death

damn i’m writing fic again 

re-watched Madoka Magica and decided to write a little something for Kyouko/Sayaka! canon compliant though, so it do be painful. 

fic here, the link above, and also under the cut~

The stained glass glows behind her as the sun begins its dramatic descent, and Kyouko feels her lungs burn.

Sayaka slams the door on her way out.

Miki Sayaka’s stubborn determination to uphold justice would be the death of her—that much was obvious. “I’m fighting to protect people from getting hurt.” What nonsense.

“It’s magical girls like you that I cannot stand.” Like, seriously? Sayaka was out of her mind. Kyouko knew what happened if you used your wish for others. It didn’t end well.

There was no point in “saving humanity” or whatever noble nonsense Sayaka believed in—humans were fucked up, and becoming a magical girl in order to “save” them was pointless. Humans didn’t need saving. Only you needed saving.

She sighs, staring up at the hospital that Sayaka had once spent so much of her time at, worrying over Kyousuke. Fucking Kyousuke. He had no idea what Sayaka had done for him.

Sayaka’s corpse, falling on the pavement as her soul gem was carried away. All that—for a boy.

For a boy.

Kyouko can barely fathom it. Kyousuke isn’t even interesting.

Well. It’s not like she was any better, was she? Kyouko takes a bite out of her apple, relishing the satisfying crunch beneath her teeth.

Where was Sayaka, anyways? Kyouko wanted to talk to her. Still does, although there’s doubt swirling in her gut now.

Another bite. Sayaka was good. So endearingly, ceaselessly good. It wasn’t fair. Chomp. Her unerring belief in justice. Chomp. Look what it had gotten her—Sayaka—in the end. Chomp. A walking corpse, her soul attached to a glowing blue gem.

She finishes her apple, and without thinking, runs.

Before she knows it, she’s outside Sayaka’s house. Her chest heaves from exertion and she leans over to catch her breath.

Hey, she thinks. Come outside. I want to talk.

She stands there for a few moments, just catching her breath and thinking. She wonders if Sayaka will even come out.

To her surprise, Sayaka does.

“Hey,” she says to Sayaka. Something strikes Kyouko as off about her—the look in her eyes, maybe. They’re blue and bright as they should be but yet somehow flat and dead.

“I want to show you something,” she tells Sayaka. Sayaka only nods, and Kyouko leads her down, down, down, cutting through the city and its steady orange and yellow daylight. They pass under trees, light turning soft and green around them. Eventually, they make it to the abandoned church, dark and imposing in front of them.

Sayaka doesn’t even question why Kyouko is leading her here. That’s concerning, but Kyouko finds that she isn’t ready to answer those questions anyways.

In some strange way, she is grateful for Sayaka’s uncharacteristic silence.

Kyouko places her hand on the heavy wooden door. It’s been…years. Years. Years since she last stepped foot in this place. After…everything.

Sayaka is still silent behind her.

Kyouko takes a breath, steels her resolve. This is what she came to do.

She just hopes that she can reach Sayaka before it’s too late.

She shoves open the door and strides up to the altar, ignoring the tension in her gut. Dust stirs around her feet, but she ignores that too. She has a mission, and she intends to see it through.

It just…needs to work. It has to work.

“Why did you bring me here?” Sayaka asks, voice cool, steady, not angry but not pleased.

“To talk. Want an apple?” Kyouko asks, tossing her one. Sayaka catches it in a fluid motion.

“No,” she says, and throws it on the ground.

All Kyouko sees is red. Her little sister, whispering, “Onee-chan, I’m still hungry.” The growling of her stomach. The hollowness in her belly that still, despite everything, never truly seemed to go away. The gleam of the apple’s red skin as it falls to the floor.

She grabs Sayaka’s collar and raises her up. “Don’t waste food in front of me.”

Blue, blue, blue. Wide but calm, patient, curious, even. Sayaka doesn’t even seem afraid.

What is she doing? She releases Sayaka, bends down, picks up the apple. The apple itself is fine, maybe just slightly bruised. She moves back to the center of the altar, just like her father did.

Chomp. The apple is sweet, crunchy, delicious. Just as it should be.

“Once upon a time, there was a preacher,” Kyouko begins. “He saw all the problems in the world, and he knew how to fix them.”

In her head, she sees her father, standing at the altar, gazing down at his congregation. “You must always be good,” he told her.

She shakes off her father’s ghost. “But his teachings went against the church. The people…they didn’t like that. They began leaving, fearing he was crazy.” Empty pews. But her audience is Sayaka, not the world. Empty pews are fine. Sayaka is there. She’s not moving. Her eyes…they’re intently focused on Kyouko.

“Eventually, he was ex-communicated. They stripped him of his authority. He continued to preach, but no one would listen.”

That stupid letter…she remembers the way her father had stared blankly at it. Thrown it on their dining table and locked himself in his room.

“So I made a contract with Kyuubey. To ensure that people would listen to him. And we saved the world together! Him through his preaching, and me in the shadows, fighting evil.” She shakes her head. “And our lives were good. But somehow…somehow, he found out.”

Her cheek still stings, sometimes, from the ghostly weight of that slap that her father had given her when he found out. “Witchcraft!” He had shouted, and a young Kyouko stumbles backwards.

“He was distraught to find that his congregation was fake. Accused me of being a witch. Eventually, he went mad. He killed his family and himself. Before he died, he even set the house on the fire. I came back to a house in flames and a dead family.”

The heat of the flames as she stared at her house, gaping, struggling to find words that never came. Orange scorching her vision, searing her eyes as she felt her heart drop.

How at some point her voice unlocked and she screamed for her family, but they never came out.

Sorry, kid. But your family is dead. Lucky you weren’t home, right?

“After that, well. I swore to never help another person again. People are selfish, Sayaka. I wasted my wish on my father, and…look how that turned out. So this might be my lot in life, but now I’m going to focus on myself.”

She looks at Sayaka, feeling raw, numb, vulnerable, exposed. “I guess…the point is, you don’t really ever know what others want. So why should you care about them?”

Sayaka is quiet, taking in the words. Kyouko’s gaze falls to the colored light on the dust-covered floor. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens. Purples, even. The stained glass really is beautiful. Kyouko always did love this place.

She looks up, and sees…blue.

Sayaka clears her throat, and Kyouko hates how she flinches oh-so-slightly. But it’s the first sound Sayaka has even made after rejecting the apple.

“That may be the path you chose, but I can’t agree,” Sayaka declares. “I became a magical girl for the sake of others, and I’m not going to abandon my morals because I’m technically dead.” She looks at Kyouko: cold, stern, resolute.

What happened to the cheerful, hopelessly optimistic Sayaka? Kyouko…

Kyouko misses her.

This Sayaka looks…looks ready to die.

“Where did you get those apples?” Sayaka asks, landing the finishing blow, the coup de grace. Kyouko freezes.

“As I thought.” Sayaka smiles, still sad and cold and ready to die. “I don’t eat stolen food, sorry.”

And just like that, Sayaka—blue, quiet, cold, dead, alive, musical Sayaka—turns away, and walks back through the empty church, slamming the door on her way out. The sound rings hollow and loud in Kyouko’s ears.

The stained glass behind her is awash with light, casting a swirling rainbow of colors around her feet. In the past, Kyouko had loved this rainbow.

Now though, Kyouko slams her fist on the pulpit. It lands on a spot of soft blue light.

“Damn it, Sayaka!” She shouts, before taking another angry bite of her apple.

She had just wanted to bring that light to Sayaka. Give Sayaka her light back.

Because after every rain storm, there’s a rainbow.

Sayaka just needs to push through her storm. There will be a rainbow. There has to be.

Chomp.

There has to be. There was one for her, after all.

Because Sayaka reminded Kyouko why she had become a magical girl. She had reached out to Kyouko, unintentionally perhaps, but with enough resolve to remind Kyouko of…well, everything.

Now it’s her turn to reach out and remind Sayaka of the same thing.

She chomps on her apple, and ignores the tears running down her face.

It’s just—they become the very thing they were trying to fight?

If Sayaka and her upstanding sense of justice had done anything, it had reminded Kyouko that once upon a time, she too had believed in fairy tales and happy endings.

She needs a miracle. No, scratch that, Sayaka needs a miracle.

And so she will bring Sayaka a miracle.

An idea begins to form in her mind.

In fairy tales, love solves everything. The love she had for her father had inspired her to become a magical girl, to use her wish to save her family. It’s always love.

Kyousuke would be ideal, but…he doesn’t know about magical girls. He can’t even sense the grasping despair of a witch; see the intricacies in a witch’s grief. Rumor has it that he’s going out with someone else, anyways.

It will have to be Madoka, then. The best friend, the one who was always there for Sayaka no matter what. A different kind of love, of course, but isn’t that the beauty of this? There’s so many different types of love. Friendship is just as valuable. Madoka can see the witches; she knows about magical girls; she is just as desperate as Kyouko herself to get Sayaka back.

She reaches out to Madoka, who all too willingly comes running to her.

“You want to save Sayaka, right?” Kyouko asks.

“Of course.”

“Then I want to try reaching out to her.”

Madoka nods, resolve growing in those soft pink eyes of hers. What a pair Madoka and Sayaka made.

“Do you know if it’ll work?” She asks, and Kyouko sighs.

“No one knows how to purify a witch. We’ll be the first. But that’s why we have to try.” Kyouko tosses her soul gem up. It’s glowing red, red, red, the opposite to Sayaka’s blue. “Will you come with me?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in Madoka’s voice. Maybe she and Sayaka had more similarities than Kyouko had expected.

Kyouko catches her soul, and with it, her stray thoughts. Funny how her life is now tied to what is essentially a shiny rock. She wonders what would happen if she dropped it.

“Let’s go,” Kyouko says, recalling the task at hand, and offers Madoka a smile. Madoka returns it with one of her own.

They begin, walking around the city, following Kyouko’s soul gem in hopes of a trace of Sayaka, or the witch Octavia.

Her gem flashes, and Kyouko grins while Madoka gasps.

A signal. They found it.

Or rather, they found her.

“Ready?” Kyouko asks.

Madoka nods.

They step inside.

Octavia is quiet, at first. There’s nothing but mirrors and silence and the echo of their footsteps. Such a weird place to think of Sayaka being in.

Or is it a reflection of Sayaka?

Kyouko thinks that she’s going to have a hard time fighting any other witches after this.

“Kyouko?” Madoka says, her voice timid. “I was wondering…does this feel familiar?”

Kyouko shrugs. “It’s different from every other witch I’ve fought,” she offers. She’s not sure what else to say.

“Of course,” Madoka says, and whatever she’s thinking, she doesn’t get the chance to say anything else, because Octavia—no, Sayaka, it’s Sayaka—senses them, and greets them.

They run, Kyouko in the lead, Madoka following close behind her. Kyouko doesn’t say anything, just wields her spear and chain and prays that this will be enough.

“Now, Madoka!” She shouts when they reach Octavia. She puts up a barrier between her and Madoka, hoping that Madoka will be safe. “It’s got to work!”

“Sayaka!” Madoka calls. Kyouko assumes she says something else, but she tunes it out. She has a mission, an obligation to Sayaka.

It’s what Sayaka deserves.

Octavia is relentless.

Kyouko’s arms burn as she swings her lance. Sayaka never did know when to give up, and Kyouko kind of loves that.

But she had nearly beat Sayaka once, before Homura had intervened. She’s sure she can beat her again, even if Sayaka is now a witch.

The boundary between her and Madoka shatters, and Kyouko is thrown back violently. She stands up, coughing, and spies Homura standing there, holding Madoka.

Fuck.

Of course it didn’t work. No one knows how to purify a witch, after all.

“Take Madoka out of here!” She shouts to Homura, creating a boundary between her and Madoka, trapping Sayaka in here with her. It doesn’t matter how Homura found them; it’s fortunate that she even came. “I’ll be fine!”

The words sound like a lie. She knows she won’t leave this place alive.

Heck, Homura knows she won’t.

But Homura nods anyways, her face not truly impassive. She seems sad but accepting, Kyouko thinks. Almost as if she had expected this.

“Good luck, Kyouko-san,” Homura tells her, and then with a toss of her hair, leaves.

Kyouko turns back to Octavia, the great music witch. The despair of a girl who could have been something.

She’s out of ideas.

So she does what she knows best.

“Oh, Sayaka,” she says. “No one chose you, did they?” She kneels, falling back into prayer, into the one thing she had sworn not to do all those years ago. “But…I chose you, Sayaka. You’re okay.”

Somehow, she always found herself praying when she was most uncertain.

“You’re so good,” she cries, reaching out to Octavia. Within the witch, she feels a stirring of something, some small flickering of hope and warmth amidst the crushing despair. “Sayaka, you’re so, so good. So selfless.”

In her mind’s eye, she sees the rainbow lights dancing across the alter of her father’s church, crossing over Sayaka’s eyes, coloring Sayaka’s skin in beautiful ribbons of rainbow. Sayaka, Sayaka. It’s always Sayaka.

“Sayaka,” she whispers. “I’m still here.”

This is when Kyouko accepts that she is going to die—and she won’t turn into a witch, some small kindness—but she’ll take Sayaka with her.

Small mercies, huh.

She reaches out once more—not with her body, but with her soul.

Blue, blue, blue. That’s always been Sayaka’s color, but here, it envelops Kyouko in a way that it hadn’t.

“Kyouko?” Sayaka asks. “What…how did you find me?”

“You gave me hope when I had forgotten it,” Kyouko replies, wiping away Sayaka’s tears. “It was only fair that I do the same to you.”

She presses a kiss to Sayaka’s forehead. “It’s going to be okay, Sayaka,” she murmurs, and she feels Sayaka settling into her arms.

“Tell me something nice,” Sayaka whispers.

Kyouko smiles sadly. “The rainbows in my father’s church…from the stained glass…I always thought it was beautiful.”

“We can sit there, then,” Sayaka replies, a tiny smile dancing on her face. “Let’s go.”

That’s the last image Kyouko sees—Sayaka, in her arms, the stone of the alter underneath her legs, and rainbow lights dancing across the two of them.

In another world, Kyouko thinks, they get their happy ending. It would go like this: Kyouko can’t stand Sayaka’s goody-two shoes nature; Sayaka can’t stand Kyouko’s lackadaisical attitude. They clash, they fight, they somehow expose their vulnerabilities to each other, Kyouko begins to trust, Sayaka worries less about right and wrong. They would kiss here, Kyouko thinks, surrounded by the rainbow lights from abandoned stained glass and dust at their feet. A happy ending.

But in this world, they don’t get that.

Blue and red are only two colors of the rainbow, and that’s what she gets in this world. Two colors, not the full spectrum.

A taste of what could have been, cruelly ripped away from her by grief and despair.

[ghostofviperwrites]

The Ungovernable Ones - Chapter 9 - The Wild Card

Featuring: Los Ingobernables de Japon

Category:  Smut

Warnings for the series:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, dubious consensual encounters, manipulation

You were awakened by the buzz of your cellphone alerting you to a text.   Squinting in the dark room you sighed heavily at the text from Sanada basically demanding you come to the bus.  Immediately. Looking at the clock you softly groaned.  It was barely five in the morning.   The sun hadn’t even come up yet.  Why was he even awake?  Didn’t he need his beauty rest?  For a moment you considered waking Hiromu and asking him to accompany you.  His warning was still ringing in your ears.  But he looked so peaceful and still that you couldn’t bear to wake him.   You slipped out of his arms, and grabbed your coat as your phone vibrated again and you huffed at Sanada’s impatience.   You never noticed Hiromu’s open eyes watch you leave as you hurried from the room, a trouble filled smirk on his lips.  

Rushing through the cold of the night you pushed on the bus doors grumbling when it was locked and banged angrily shivering as you waited for Sanada who took his sweet time opening the door.   Pushing past him out of the cold you tried desperately not to notice he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that hugged him like second skin.    He moved a few steps further into the bus and you followed after him to get out of the cold draft from the door.  You waited impatiently for him to get around to what he wanted.  Yes, he never spoke to you, but he texted you to come to the bus at this ungodly hour just to stare at you in silence?

“What do you need that couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”  You asked frowning when he smiled and jutted his chin behind you.   You turned slowly, dread filling you as you found yourself staring right into the chest of Evil.   You swallowed hard and took a step backwards immediately bumping into Sanada who grabbed you by the biceps and held you solidly to his body.   You tried to protest, but were silenced by Evil who put a finger to your lips.

“Shhhhh.”  He said.  “Relax.   We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to play a little.”  You shook your head no quickly, struggling against Sanada’s hold, wincing as his fingers dug into your tender flesh.  

“You want to play Evil.” Sanada said.  You didn’t even have to be looking at him to hear the annoyance in his tone.   As if the thought of wanting to play with you was repulsive to him.  And you hated that it hurt you that he thought that way.  

“Please.  As if you wouldn’t fuck her. You’re just being a stubborn asshole.” Evil spat at his friend.  

“If I wanted to fuck her I would have had her the first day.”  Sanada replied haughtily.   “As I’ve said.  She’s not worth my time.”  

Your mind was racing, trying to get a handle on what was going on.  What did Evil and Sanada have planned?  

“Open your mouth.” Evil commanded pressing his fingers against your lips.   You clenched your teeth, glaring at him defiantly.   Your defiance was ended by Sanada’s hand moving to your jaw and squeezing it until your mouth dropped open and Evil was quick to shove his fingers in.   You gagged at the intrusion, Evil’s thick fingers pressing down on your tongue.  “You remember how good my cock felt in your mouth?”  Evil asked beginning to move his fingers slowly in and out of your mouth.   Your eyes drifted closed and you couldn’t help but hum as you remembered back to that night and exactly how good Evil had felt filling your mouth.  

“You remember don’t you?” Evil said as his fingers stroked your tongue.  “How thick it was.  How full your mouth felt.  You didn’t get to taste my cum last time did you?”  Your eyes opened locking on his as you gave a slight shake of your head and suddenly it felt like you couldn’t think of anything else but what he would taste like, mouth salivating at the thought of having him back in your mouth. You tried to push away the old feelings trying to worm their way back into your mind.  You had fought so hard to get over Evil and you couldn’t believe you were ready to cave after a few seconds of his attention.   Rather than push your feelings for him to the dark recesses of your mind, you supposed you should have dealt with them.  Maybe then you wouldn’t be ready to capitulate to his demands as Sanada held you captive.  

“You want to don’t you? You want to taste me? Suck my cock and swallow my cum?”  Evil asked with a smirk sliding his fingers out of your mouth and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip.   You could no more say no than you could live without breathing and your head was nodding yes long before you gave it permission to.   “You want Sanada to put you down on your knees and hold your head while I fuck your face?”   You whimpered blushing in embarrassment at the sound as they both chuckled at you.   “Ask him.  Maybe he’ll feel like being nice.”   You bit your lip, hesitation holding your words in as you tried to find the strength to walk away from this.  To hold your head high and say you had denied Evil.   Instead you swallowed the lump in your throat and lowered your eyes to the floor wondering what was wrong with you as you spoke to Sanada.

“Please.”  You said softly.  

“You can do better than that.”  Evil said. “Ask properly or you can forget about sucking me off.”   You wondered again how you had let this happen.   How you were now begging him to do what he had every intention of doing anyways.   To beg him not to walk way without letting you taste him.   You didn’t understand how you got tangled in this trap.  But the thought of Sanada standing there, watching you as you sucked Evil did something to you that you didn’t want to acknowledge.   Imagining being held in place as Evil abused your mouth made your pussy pulse and you knew you were lost.

“Sanada will you make me get on my knees for Evil?”  You asked clearing your throat as your voice faded.  “And hold me in place while he uses my mouth?”   You don’t know why you expected a verbal response, but you were caught off guard when Sanada kneed you in the back of your leg making you fall to your knees as he released your arms and grabbed a handful of your hair.  You winced, tears pricking your eyelids as he twisted it cruelly around his fist as the hair pulled at your scalp.  

He shoved into your mouth forcefully, your lips feeling like they were going to split as he slammed home, Sanada not allowing you any give as he held you firmly in place for Evil.   At his direction you kept your eyes locked on Evil’s face as he made you repeatedly gag around his cock, spittle dripping down your chin.  Quiet though he was you weren’t able to forget Sanada’s presence as his knees dug into your shoulder blades and he kept tightening his grip in your hair.   A particularly deep thrust made your hands fly to Evil’s thighs as you coughed around his never relenting pace.   You struggled to get a deep breath through your nose trying to keep the bile from rising as he violated your throat.  

After what seemed like an eternity Evil finally grunted his hips stilling against your lips as his seed poured down your throat as he slowly slid himself out of your mouth. You made sure to lick every drop off of him, reveling in the taste of his semen.  

“So what now?”  You asked as you caught your breath, looking up at Evil who was tucking himself back into his pants.

“Now? You go back to your room and leave me the fuck alone.”  Evil said nonchalantly.  

“But I thought…” You began only to be cut off.

“Thought what? That you sucking my dick meant something?”  Evil scoffed. “It meant we’re stuck in some nowhere town and I was horny.  That’s what it meant.”   Tears filled your eyes as you rose to your feet looking between Evil and Sanada.   Your heart was breaking again at his hands and you were cursing yourself for stupidly believing something more might be there.   “You were convenient and I knew I could get what I wanted from you without much effort.”  He said with a shrug.  “And the next time I want something from you the result will be the same.”

He smirked, stepping up to you and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling at your tender scalp.   “How does it make you feel?  That no matter what I do to you or how I treat you I can still take whatever I want from you, whenever I want.”  Evil taunted you.  “You’re so in love with me that you won’t tell me no regardless of how badly I treat you.”  

As soon as he released you, you bolted running as fast as you could off that bus and back to the safe confines of your motel room.   You were ashamed you had fallen for him again, proven his comments right without a doubt.  As much as you hated him, you knew you wouldn’t deny him anything and that scared you.  

You bee-lined straight into the bathroom and turned on the cold water, splashing your face liberally as you tried to stop the flow of tears.   You washed your face angrily chastising yourself and trying to dismiss Evil’s comments. You weren’t in love with him.  You weren’t.  There was no way you could have feelings for that asshole.   Not anymore.   You sank down to the bathroom for mind whirling with so many thoughts and emotions you weren’t sure which way was up anymore.   You couldn’t believe what you had just done.  

A sense of shame filled you and you felt dirty.   You should have known they were up to something.  Hadn’t you been skittish around them for the past few days, getting the impression they were plotting something.  Hadn’t Hiromu warned you they were up to something?  Hiromu.  Your thoughts darted to the man in the other room. Sweet Hiromu who had tried to protect you.   You should have woken him.  If you had this never would have happened.  He would have kept you safe like he promised.  

Something came over you in that moment.   You were tired of getting manipulated and abused by these boys.   For once you were going to be ahead of the game.   To show Evil he was wrong.  Standing up you walked determinedly out of the bathroom and climbed into bed next to Hiromu.  

“Where did you go Y/N?” Hiromu asked, his voice husky with sleep.  

“That doesn’t matter.” You said sharply and before you could lose your nerve you rolled on top of him, pressing your lips to his. Hiromu’s hands reflexively grabbed your hips wide eyes staring up at you in surprise.

“What are you doing?” Hiromu asked.  

“Please Hiromu. Please don’t.”  You said.  “I don’t want to talk, I just want to forget.   Can you help me forget?”   You pressed kisses along his jawline, nibbling along to his ear and pushing your hips down on his groin.  Face buried in his hair you missed the triumphant grin on his face before he flipped you over onto your back, his body hovering over you.   He stared at you with those bottomless eyes of his as he slowly lowered his lips to yours, pressing your mouths together as he tongue slipped inside.   You gave yourself over to his ministrations, pushing Evil out of your mind as your hands buried themselves in his hair.  You refused to think how Evil’s hair had felt in your hands as you felt the silky strands.   You spread your legs to allow Hiromu to settle between them, a small moan leaving you as you felt him pressed against your core.  

Hiromu’s fingers danced across your body, pushing your shirt up over your head and playing with your nipples before trailing down your stomach and resting on your panties.  

“Do you want my fingers in you?”  He asked. “Or my tongue?”  He licked his lips and your eyes followed that tongue.   You were very aware of it.  How could you not.  Hiromu seemed to have a fetish for licking anything put in front of him, and doing it very well.   You could only nod and he grinned sliding down your body and pulling your panties off as he went.   Hiromu’s fingers rubbed over your clit in gentle circles before he shouldered your thighs apart and brought his face to your pussy.   You cried out as his tongue licked through your slit, pausing to flick your clit and back down to dart inside your hole fucking you with his tongue as his fingers played with your clit.  

You were close to orgasm when Hiromu pulled back making you whine in protest, your hips bucking seeking the return of his tongue.

“Did Bushi eat you out?” He asked quizzically.  “I can’t remember if he said he did or not. I know for sure Evil didn’t.”   You blinked and shook your head, confusion chasing away the vestiges of your orgasm as you stared blankly at Hiromu.   You shuddered as two of his fingers entered your pussy, thrusting them inside as he looked at you fully expecting a response.  

“You…are you serious?” You finally asked in disbelief, gasping as Hiromu’s fingers sharply twisted hitting perfectly in you as he continued pushing that spot.

“I want to know…. Did Bushi eat you out?  And if he did was he as good as I am?”   Hiromu asked again smirking as he leaned down to flick his tongue over your swollen clit.  

“I don’t want to talk about Bushi right now.”  You panted pleasure warring with irritation as Hiromu halted his movements.

“Well I do.” Hiromu said sharply.  “Answer me or I stop.”  

“He didn’t” You said. “He didn’t go down on me okay. Can we stop talking about him right now?”   Hiromu nodded his acceptance and diving back between your legs, his tongue making quick swipes through your slit and bumping over your clit as you sunk back into his actions.   Again you were about to cum when he slowed his movements and you gave a screech of frustration.   Breathing heavily you watched warily as he raised his head and looked at, his head tilting as he considered your flushed face.  

“Did you fuck Evil when you saw him earlier?”   Hiromu asked, the question pulling you from your pleasure immediately.  

“Wha…What?”  You asked pushing up on your elbows. “How did you know where I went?”  Hiromu climbed off the bed and you sat up, pulling the sheets around your nude frame, immediately protesting as Hiromu stripped naked and climbed back on top of you the sheet serving as the only barrier between your bodies.  

“Get off me what do you think you’re doing?”   You whisper shouted pushing at his shoulders ineffectively with one hand as he grinned at you.  

“We’re going to fuck. Isn’t that what you wanted?”  He asked his hand tugging down the sheet easily baring you to him again.

“I did.  I wanted to forget. But not now.”  You said softly.  

“Yes, you wanted to use me to forget you’re fucking your way through the stable.”   Hiromu said nodding in commiseration.  “Am I not letting you forget?  Is that the problem?”  

“No! How did you know I went to see Evil?”  You demanded struggling as Hiromu settled himself between your legs, his hands easily grasping your wrists and pushing them above your head.  

“Because he told me.” Hiromu said simply rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit and you squeezed your eyes closed as you tried not to feel how good it was.

“Lured you out there like a little lamb.  I warned you.  Told you they were out to get you.  Yet you blindly ran when Sanada called you.”  Hiromu shook his head in mock disappointment.   “And then you come running back to me, wanting to use me as a balm.  How do you think that made me feel?”  He asked pouting.   “So I’m going to ask one more time and you’re going to answer or things are going to get a whole lot less friendly.  Did you fuck Evil?”   Keeping your wrists trapped in one hand Hiromu trailed his other hand down your body, playing with your nipples, teasing them into stiffened peaks as he awaited your response.  

“No!”  You ground out after a moment.  

“Tell me what you did.”   Hiromu said, moving his mouth to your nipple and flicking his tongue over it then sucking it into his mouth and grazing his teeth along the sensitive bud.   He bit down hard when you didn’t answer, making tears once again sting your eyelids as he looked at you with hooded eyes flashing warnings.   This wasn’t the sweet Hiromu of the past few days.  Now you were getting acquainted with the time bomb.  

“I gave him a blowjob.” You said, cursing your body’s reaction to Hiromu’s dominance, your pussy starting to leak as he manhandled you.  

“And did you suck off Sanada too?”  Hiromu asked before returning his attention to your nipple, twirling his tongue around and sucking it deeply as you tried to ignore the pleasure he was creating.  

“No!”   You denied vehemently.   Your legs spread on their own accord to accommodate Hiromu as he lined his cock up with your hole, pushing it easily inside your dripping cunt. You shuddered as his cock filled you, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist and you moved in time to his thrusts hoping he was done with his intrusive questioning.  But it was not to be and Hiromu nearly made you cry in frustration as he once again toyed you to the edge of orgasm and slowed his thrusts.  

“I want details Y/N.” Hiromu said softly, pinching your nipple and giving it a twist as you moaned.  “Tell me what you did with those boys.”  

“Why are you making me do this?” You asked tears of frustration leaking down your face.  

“Because I want to.” He said with a sinister smile. “Because I can.”  He pumped himself in and out of you agonizingly slowly a few times.   “Because you’re so desperate to cum that you’ll do anything I fucking tell you to do.”   You wanted to deny his claims but knew you were too weak to do so.  He was right, you were desperate.   You didn’t know what was wrong with you.  You weren’t like this.  But you couldn’t seem to tell any of these guys no to save your life.   “Now.”  He said firmly.

“I sucked off Evil.” You said.   “I didn’t do anything with Sanada. I swear.” You said when he looked at you skeptically.

“So you didn’t touch Sanada?”  He asked bottoming out inside you with a sharp thrust and you bit your lip to contain your cry.  

“He held me down for Evil.”  You said after a moment’s hesitation.  You didn’t want Hiromu to hear about Sanada’s involvement and then think you were lying to him.   But you really didn’t want to tell him how you had plead for that exact treatment.  

“And you wonder why we treat you like this.”  Hiromu said wryly fucking you hard into the mattress, the headboard banging against the wall as he took you fiercely.   “You think we can’t sense a slut from a mile away?  And then you come in all high and mighty acting holier than thou with your father’s protection.  Honey you just put a fucking bullseye on your chest.”   His fingers found your clit and flicked it several times before pinching the swollen nub making you cum, screaming loudly as you lost yourself in orgasm.  Soon after Hiromu’s thrusts came to a stop and you clenched around him as you felt his cum filling you, silent tears streaming down your face as he pushed off you and took up residence in the other bed, apparently having no further use for you now.  

Rolling to your side you cried yourself to sleep realizing Hiromu’s apparent kindness had been a game all along and you had fallen for it spectacularly.