#she was out here doing trap metal Seven Years Ago. on her own even

[twinknote]

saw someone being annoyed abt how ppl were bringing up rico re: TYG by megan + spiritbox like “put some respect on courtney’s name” as if rico wasn’t doing this shit in 2018. put some respect on RICO’S name. TYG Wishes it could be rico. listen to rage and get back to me

listen to COLD and get back to me

[rendevousz]

freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

-

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

-

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

-

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

-

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

-

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

-

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg

[lettheladylead]

running in circles

chapter forty-seven: i’m no good on my own anymore summary: Goldie tries to get Scrooge’s attention once again. warnings: references to sex, nothing explicit wordcount: 2600 playlist (will be updated as chapters are posted): shorturl.at/bfBCQ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33776632/chapters/103404354 site link: https://sites.google.com/view/running-in-circles/chapters/chapter47

here’s chapter forty-seven!! text will also be included in this post for those of you that don’t use ao3:

2019; Florida & Duckburg:

Embarrassing.

That was the only word that could properly describe how Goldie felt when she woke up in a weird metal box, stacked on top of other prisoners in other boxes like they were collectible items.

She was well-known in the world of adventurers as someone difficult to take down. Other adventurers feared her! When they heard her name, they’d run for the hills!

(Okay maybe that wasn't quite right, but she had some kind of reputation for being tough!)

So how could she have fallen for Heron’s trap so easily? Was she losing her edge? Was her advanced age getting to her? Maybe that dip in the Florida youth pool left her older than she was before. Because that nonsense shouldn’t have worked on her. And yet, here she stood - in the dark, in despair, completely dispirited. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Scrooge was at the center of it.

Scrooge would be fine. Mostly Goldie hoped that Sharpie was alright, though. He was a sensitive kid and based on the number of other prisoners around her, Goldie had a feeling that something really big was happening. 

After all, it wasn't often that she was targeted by Scrooge's enemies (unless they were also her's). And sure, she didn't like Black Heron and they'd fought in the past, but Goldie had never considered them enemies. She barely knew anything about the woman aside from being insane and wanting to rule the world. So generic.

Being generic didn't make her less terrifying, though. Goldie wasn't going to move past the shame of how she was kidnapped for a very long time. Thank God no one else knew about it.

—

Goldie hadn't heard from Scrooge. It'd been four weeks since their adventure in Florida and she thought he might call her or reach out in some way or another, but instead she was stuck staring at her phone like a child.

Sharpie still managed to text her every once in a while, so Goldie knew Scrooge wasn't insanely busy. He must've just been too busy for her.

It was extremely agitating. She'd thought they made some significant progress. They did! They talked about things that should've been talked about decades ago. And yet…he was blowing her off once again.

It was reminiscent of just a year earlier when she left him the invitation to come to Yucatán with her. He never said anything about it, not even when they saw each other again.

Goldie sighed and tapped her fingers against the counter. She wanted to get his attention. Piss him off like she always loved to do.

Normally, she'd just go to Duckburg and steal something from the Money Bin or the Other Bin, but he wasn’t spending much time at home lately, from what Louie had told her. They were constantly traveling. So she’d just have to give him a call and announce her latest caper.

Which would be…well, the fountain, of course! They’d specifically agreed to leave it where it was, so why wouldn’t she steal it? It could go on display at her Blackjack, after all. Maybe she’d fill it with the liquid gold from White Agony Plains. Even through his anger, he’d have to admit that her showmanship was unmatched.

So Goldie rushed back to Florida. It was like the opposite of Dawson - so many people, so fucking hot - but she liked it. And she didn’t mind wandering the relatively empty hotel-owned swamp. She supposed it made sense that once Spring Break was over, there’d be less people at the hotel. Also the teenagers from before probably warned everyone about the youth-sucking waters…if they were even paying attention. Most of them seemed so drunk and high that Goldie wondered if they had any idea at all what they’d been through.

She wandered very casually through the trees. Her spatial memory was excellent after so many years of adventuring so she knew exactly where to go. The cropping of trees that hid the fountain was familiar as if she’d been there only yesterday, and Goldie waltzed through the brush to find……..

…nothing.

Well, remnants of something. An empty area where a fountain used to be. It was distinct, she could see the imprints in the ground where the fountain once was.

The little hamster wheel in her head started turning faster as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on. There were only tiny splashes of water left in that fountain, certainly not enough to age or de-age someone in any significant way. So Rockerduck had no reason to take it. And unless he suddenly had friends, the only other people who knew about it were herself and Scrooge.

It was a bit presumptuous of her to assume, but this wouldn’t be the first time Scrooge had taken something in anticipation of her taking it first. Didn’t make it any less annoying.

She took out her cell phone and dialed his number aggressively. Sure, she’d planned on taking the fountain herself. But he seemed pretty adamant about them leaving it there! Where was his patented McDuck Integrity?

After an angry voicemail left on Scrooge’s phone (because of course he didn’t answer) and an interrogative text sent to Louie, Goldie started back towards the hotel. What else could she do?

She walked for a few minutes when her phone buzzed. She found a message from an unknown number and stopped in her tracks, only a half mile away from the hotel.

Goldie. I got a new phone. Can I see you?

Goldie glared at the message. She could only assume it was from Scrooge, but what impressive timing. She left him a voicemail on his old phone and he immediately sent her a message on the new one?

Against her better judgment, Goldie responded.

Where?

She only waited a few seconds before his response.

I’m at the hotel. I knew you’d come for the fountain.

Goldie hummed and continued walking towards the hotel. She was annoyed at his actions, but…really excited that he came to Florida again to see her. Did he have something planned? Was he going to ask her to help him and his family in their latest adventure? Or was he just in the area and thought it’d be fun to spend some quality time together?

She wasn’t complaining about any option. It was just nice for him to reach out to her for once.

As she entered the hotel grounds, Goldie looked around carefully in the hopes that she could spot him before he found her. She always enjoyed the look on his face when he was surprised.

But it was quiet and empty, and Goldie didn’t want to go searching.

Where at the hotel?

Once again, he only took a few seconds to answer.

Around front.

Goldie walked around the building to find a black van sitting alone in the parking lot. She wondered what Scrooge needed a van for. It was kind of an odd choice for an adventurer, though maybe it wasn’t an odd choice for Florida.

“Scrooge?” she called out as she walked closer to the van.

The back door of the van started to wiggle and she smiled, walking all the way up. “What’re you up to, sourdough?”

As the door opened, Goldie had less than a second to register Black Heron’s malicious grin as a bomb exploded in Goldie’s face - sending her flying backwards and filling her lungs with a cloud of green smoke.

She was still slightly conscious as her body was dragged into the back of the van, but Goldie lost all sensation by the time the doors closed again.

—

She should’ve known better than to fall for the old Fake New Phone trick. If that was even a standard trick, she couldn’t keep track of what evil annoying people were doing these days. All she knew is that she should’ve known better and it was embarrassing to think back to that stupid, stupid moment.

In all her self-loathing and anger, Goldie almost missed the sound of the pod containment thing next to her opening up and someone being thrown inside. She frowned and walked over to the window, hoping it was someone she knew or at least someone who she could work with to escape. She’d already gone over everything herself and there was definitely something scientific and magical combined to make her cage unescapable.

(Also she hadn’t eaten or slept in days and wasn’t hungry or tired, so she had a feeling she was in some sort of time stasis. Was she even aging?)

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the familiar figure of Santa Claus rubbing his head and groaning at the pain of being thrown so harshly.

Great. Not only did she get a man who was useless, but he was also a complete bore when it came to conversation. She wouldn’t even be able to enjoy talking to someone. Fantastic! How much longer would she be trapped in a box next to the world’s most dull immortal?

Before she could back away from her little window, Santa looked up and they made eye contact. She stepped back, but it was too late - the damage was done.

She heard an awkward throat clearing. “Um…Miss O’Gilt? Is that you?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. She’d only met Santa twice and she didn’t enjoy either time. “Yep.”

“Where are we?”

“Do you think I know the answer to that?”

She heard him shuffle around, probably to find a more comfortable seating position. “Of course, my apologies. Have you…heard or been told anything about why we were taken? I can only assume it’s related to Scrooge.”

“No kidding,” she said quietly. “I’ve got nothing for you, Claus. But if some villain is going out of their way to make sure people like you and me aren’t around, it can’t be good for Scroogey. They’re probably going after his family, too.”

“O-oh, dear…that sounds terrible! Is there…do you think there’s anything we can do to help?”

Goldie rolled her eyes and knocked her knuckles against the wall. “How do you expect to help from in here? Gonna write a strongly worded letter?”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I just want to help him.”

“Of course you do.” Goldie picked at some of the feathers on her fingers. “I don’t think he’d want your help, either way.”

Santa pouted. “We actually made up this past Christmas, I’ll have you know. He certainly doesn’t hate me anymore.”

“Is that so?” Goldie was surprised to hear that, though not surprised that Scrooge didn’t tell her. It wasn’t exactly relevant to her, considering the only times she’d interacted with Santa were times that he was trying to get in touch with Scrooge and ran into her instead. She had a long history of stalking and obsessing over Scrooge, but Mr. Christmas was so much worse, in her opinion. Scrooge set up death traps around his house to send a message and the guy still couldn’t take a hint. But, well, it sounded like things worked out for them in the end. Hip, hip, hooray? “Congrats.”

“Hmm. Forgive me for saying so, but you sound less than sincere.”

“What do you want from me? A medal?”

A brief silence again, followed by, “No.”

They fell into an extremely awkward silence, staring at the walls of their individual cells. Goldie wondered if their captors - Black Heron and whoever the hell she was working with - knew that putting her next to Santa would be its own kind of torture. Hopefully whoever ended up on the other side of her little cage would be better conversation.

—

After going over all the strange voicemails and text messages he had, Scrooge and his family discussed what they’d all just learned. Bradford and the other Buzzards working for F.O.W.L. was something they’d been made aware of in the past few weeks, but the scale of his nefarious reach was much greater than they ever could’ve expected.

He and Beakley had a long conversation about their expectations for what was coming. She’d confessed to him years ago that she was hiding from F.O.W.L. and he assumed it had something to do with her daughter’s death, but he never asked. They didn’t have the kind of relationship where they shared the saddest parts of their lives with each other.

All she said was that she wanted to protect Webby. She’d said as much back then and she confirmed it again after the latest attacks. Webby’s safety was her priority, one hundred percent.

Scrooge agreed (though he included the rest of his family in that resolve). But they didn’t have any more information and they didn’t have time to go check out each crime scene and find clues. They just needed to be prepared for the next attack.

With that in mind, Scrooge decided it would be in everyone’s best interests to reach out to any available allies and see if they had his back. Their local allies were easy to talk to and all of them were willing to fight for the Duck family if need be.

Goldie, however, was always a question.

She’d shown up during the Moonvasion, but didn’t actually help. And Scrooge was honestly still a bit suspicious of her real intentions about coming down to Duckburg that day.

But this had the potential to be much bigger. He didn’t have any idea what F.O.W.L. had planned. But they had plenty of resources and villains working for them, if they were anything like they were in the 60s. Goldie’s help (plus her experience facing off against F.O.W.L. in the past) could be vital in their success.

But when Scrooge finally called her back, there was no answer.

Not just no answer, he couldn’t leave a voicemail. It said her phone number had been disconnected.

Was she really that upset about him potentially taking the fountain?

Scrooge groaned and sat down on the living room couch, staring down at his cell phone. He’d thought they’d made a lot of progress in Florida, but then she just went back to stealing as usual. Was she trying to piss him off? Trying to get his attention?

If that was true, then why would she disconnect her phone number?

He refused to believe that everything they discussed back then was  just some kind of trick to get the fountain to herself. He’d known Goldie for too long to believe that, and if she really wanted it she could’ve taken it back in March.

Maybe she’d just dropped her phone in the toilet. Or over a cliff. There were plenty of options that didn’t involve Goldie purposefully breaking contact with him.

“Have you heard from Aunt Goldie?”

Scrooge looked up as Louie walked in the room, holding his phone. “Not since the voicemail.”

“Well none of my texts are going through anymore.”

“Her phone is disconnected, accordin’ to the phone company,” Scrooge answered sadly. “I dinnae know how to get a hold of her.”

Louie frowned and sat down on the couch next to his great-uncle. “Are you worried?”

He shook his head. “No. Goldie makes herself unreachable sometimes, but…I’m sure she’s fine.”

Unconvinced, Louie tried sending another message that received another ‘Message Cannot Be Sent’ response. “Well…I am. This is a really bad time for her to disappear.”

“It is,” Scrooge said, more pondering out loud than answering. “It’s very, very bad timin'.”

---

DUCK FRANCHISE REFERENCES: - Yes it's here! We're onto the end of DuckTales. You'll recognize Goldie leaving Scrooge a voicemail, the one where she calls him a double-crossing cad, from the episode "Escape From the ImpossiBin!". - Goldie's kidnapping and all references related to that are from the series finale, The Last Adventure!

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 11 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 11

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (cunniligus, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*, creampie)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter 11

You and Heisenberg sat side by side against the headboard as he told you everything.  The bed sheet was pulled up to his waist while you pulled it higher, covering your nakedness.  He reached for a cigar and lighter on his nightstand, puffing and exhaling in between the story.  You kept your eyes focused forward: on your legs under the sheets, on your hands in your lap, anywhere but turning your head to look at him.

It took him almost an hour to relay everything to you.  His story started over 100 years ago when the woman you now knew as Mother Miranda lost her daughter Eva.  You listened as he told you how she discovered an unknown organism under the village known as the Megamycete.  Heisenberg stopped periodically, puffed his cigar, and asked if you wanted a break or if you had any questions.  All you could do is shake your head and bid him to keep talking.

Your heart broke hearing him talk about how Mother Miranda kidnapped him from his family and infected him with Cadou.  The name of the organism sounded familiar, then you remembered that it was the thing in the jar that Moreau had in his laboratory.  Heisenberg explained that the Cadou drastically changed an individual...either physically, mentally, metaphysically, and sometimes in every way imaginable.  He told you that the Cadou is what gave him the ability to move metal objects with his mind.  He also shared the fact that he was able to manipulate electric fields and communicate through electronics like radios, televisions, and the overhead PA system that was installed in the factory.  

He shared that the Cadou was why Moreau was trapped in the prison that is his mutated body.

Tears slid down your cheeks at the thought of Moreau being in constant pain and turmoil because this “mother,” as he lovingly called her the last time you were with him, turned him into a monster.  But your heart also ached at the thought of Karl being taken as a child, experimented on, and left alone with a family that was not his family.  You could only imagine how scared and alone he must have felt, how much he must have missed his family, and how his real family must have searched for him for years until they all eventually died off one by one.

Heisenberg came to the end of his story, stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray, and slowly turned his head to look at you.  A part of him was scared, scared that you wouldn’t believe him, or worse, that you would run as far away from him as possible.  It was a thought that tied his stomach into knots.  He had wanted you from the moment he set eyes on you and had just gotten you into his arms and into his bed...he didn’t want to lose you now.

You shifted next to him and he waited for you to rise from the bed, put your clothes back on, and demand to be taken somewhere where you could call for rescue.  He was surprised when instead you looped your arm under his and held his bicep, resting your head on his shoulder.  He sighed in relief, a slow smile spreading over his face as he lifted his hand and placed it on your outer leg, pulling your legs closer to him.

“So what do you think?” Heisenberg asked, pressing his lips into your hair.

“It’s unbelievable,” you murmured, “but then again, I’ve seen enough of this village to know that unbelievable things happen and reside here.  I should have known when I saw that thing that looked like a tree reach up and rip off the wing of the plane..”

Heisenberg furrowed his brow at your words.  A tree?  Then it dawned on him that you were referring to the mold.  He came to the conclusion that you must have looked out of the plane window and saw it strike.  He could only imagine how terrifying it was to be on a plane and experience it not only crashing, but also being the only survivor.

“The mold...the thing you saw is called the mold.  I saw it retreating back into the village after your plane crashed.  I knew if there were any survivors that Mother Miranda would find them and infect them in hopes that one would bring her daughter back into this life.  When I saw you...you looked so frightened, so fragile...and you were so beautiful.  You never know what the Cadou will do to a host, Moreau and the lycans being the disastrous part of the spectrum.  So I grabbed you, told Moreau I would kill him if he told anyone, and here you are.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked up at him.  His penetrating gaze, the scars that peppered his face, his long hair that fell to his chin, and his beard...Heisenberg was incredibly handsome.  His physical body was not adversely affected by Mother Miranda’s experimentation.  And even though he didn’t tell you why he brought you here at first, you were grateful that he finally confided in you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, smiling at him, “I understand now why you brought me here and why you were so secretive.  I would never have believed you at first and automatically would have written you off as crazy.  And the bodies in the factory...you need an army to stop Miranda.  The bodies from the cemetery, the bodies from the plane crash...you need all the help you can get.  It’s...it’s tough to think of Bruce and the others being turned into mindless soldiers, but I understand why you need them…”

Heisenberg’s eyes searched yours.  His hand squeezed your leg reassuringly.  “I’m so sorry you had to see your friend like that.  I didn’t know you had gotten to know him on the plane.  To me, they were always just tools to aid me in my battle with Miranda...but they were once people.  They had families, friends...I promise you when this is over, I will put their bodies to rest.”

You nodded.  “I’ll help you...help you bury them, say a few words...convince their ghosts not to come back and haunt you for all eternity…”

He chuckled and leaned in, kissing your lips softly.  You lifted your hand and caressed his cheek, feeling the scruffiness of his beard.  A surprised groan formed in his throat as you pushed your tongue out to lick his lips.  Both of his hands lifted, cupped your face, and deepened the kiss.

The two of you sat there, kissing and making out like a pair of horny teenagers.  You released the sheet that covered your breasts and it pooled in your lap.  One of Heisenberg’s hands went around to your back, pulling you closer, as his other hand stayed pressed to your cheek.

He pulled away from the kiss, which made you whimper.  He laughed before growling playfully and moving to his knees.  Pulling the sheets off of your body, he grabbed your thighs and pulled your body forward, making you lie back on your pillow.  “Karl!” you squealed as he made quick work of spreading your legs and lying on his stomach between them.

“I’ve only briefly tasted you...now I want to devour you…” he growled.  Both of his arms wrapped under and around your legs as his lips kissed the soft skin of your inner thighs.  You sat up on your elbows, your mouth going dry and your heart beating wildly.  As you watched him kiss up and down one thigh before moving to the other, you felt your arousal accelerate.  You had been intimate before, but you had never had a man go down on you.  It had been a fantasy for a long time.  You fantasized about it over and over as you pleasured yourself.  And now, here is this mysterious, strong man between your legs, moving achingly slow towards your pussy.

“Karl…” you whispered, your thighs trembling on either side of his face.  His lips spread in a grin as he hovered over your pussy, blowing softly on your clit.  Your lips parted and you moaned loudly, arching your hips up to his mouth.  Heisenberg laughed and kissed along the flesh of your labia, his teeth gently nibbling on it.  Desire and arousal churned in your stomach and you could feel your wetness pooling out of you.

“Do you like that, doll face?” he asked, kissing around your clit, “does it feel good?”

All you could do was nod your head and move your hips.  He was mercilessly teasing you, tormenting you with his skilled mouth and never truly giving you what you wanted.

“Mmmm...you smell so good…” Heisenberg murmured, pressing the tip of his nose to your clit and nuzzling it softly.

“Karl, for fuck’s sake...please...please…” you begged, grabbing the sheets in your fists.  His gaze fixed on yours and he smiled, slowly extended his tongue, and circled around your clit.

You tossed your head back and cried out, your lower back arching off the bed.  You panted and moaned his name as his tongue curled and flicked over the swollen nub.  The pleasure that coursed through your body was unlike anything you had ever felt before.  The feel of his hands spreading your thighs wider and his fingers sinking into your skin almost drove you insane.

“Karl...Karl...oh fuck...yes...yes...don’t stop…” you whimpered.  Heisenberg chuckled softly, closing his lips around your clit and sucking.  One hand released the sheets and shot up to the headboard, grabbing onto one of the railings for dear life.  Your body undulated and gyrated on his bed as his mouth gave you pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt before.

Heisenberg became drunk with power as he looked up at you.  The way you moved and the sounds that slid past your lips made him unbelievably hard.  He found himself grinding his solid cock into the bed, desperate for friction.  Your reaction to his mouth was better than any pornographic image he had seen in his long life.  His eyes darkened as ideas flowed through his mind.  He made mental notes of all of the things he wanted to do to you right here in his bed...and all of the ways he would make you scream his name and shout your ecstasy.

He moved his right hand from your thigh to your dripping pussy.  He pulled away his mouth momentarily in order to softly caress your opening with the pads of his fingers.  You continued to moan and pant.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue over and over again…” Heisenberg promised, “and I’m going to shove my fingers inside of you...fingering you and tasting every part of your delicious cunt…”

Both of your hands were on the headboard railings, your body twisting amongst the sheets.  Your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face as he pushed his index and middle fingers inside of you.  His mouth went back to your clit, flicking it thoroughly as he rubbed your G-spot back and forth.

“Karl...you’re gonna make me cum...I wanna cum on your fingers...on your face...let me cum on your fucking face!!” you shouted, all manners and discretion completely thrown out of the window.  Heisenberg growled and gave you what you wanted.  His fingers pushed in and out of your wet opening noisily, the squelching sounds of your wetness audible to the both of you.  His tongue flicked your clit hard and fast and within seconds your lower back was arched completely off the bed and your orgasm shook your entire body.  You screamed his name over and over until his mouth slowly brought you back down to reality.

Aftershocks shook you as Heisenberg crawled up your body, chuckling against the skin of your stomach.  You released the railings and brought your hands to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His lips met yours and you kissed him hard.  You felt his skin pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your body and held you tight.  The sensation of your retreating orgasm followed by his strong arms made your heart surge in your chest.  You felt wanted, desired, and protected.  He had given you more pleasure than you had ever been given by any other guy or even yourself for that matter.  The connection you were feeling with him was growing...you hoped that Heisenberg felt it as well.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rolled his hips against your wet cunt.  His hard cock rubbed back and forth between your pussy lips, making your desire accelerate all over again.

Heisenberg’s tongue explored your mouth, sliding and nudging yours into submission.  His hands slid up your back and to your shoulders, hugging you close.  Arousal and the growing need of his body increased.  His lips kissed down your neck and to your chest, licking the thin sheen of sweat that settled on your flesh.

“Karl…” you whispered, moving one hand down along his shoulder blades as your other hand stayed tangled in his hair.  

“I love hearing your beautiful voice say my name…” he moaned, kissing down between your breasts.  You arched your hips and spread your thighs wider, aching to feel him inside of you.  Heisenberg pushed himself up on one hand while his other reached down to grab his cock.  He rubbed the tip up and down along your pussy, teasing you mercilessly.

“Karl...please fuck me again...fuck me…” you said, arching your hips higher.  You were desperate to feel him, to feel his cock stretch you out and to feel his hips hammering down against yours.

He pushed inside of you and the both of you moaned loudly.  His left hand moved up to the headboard, holding it tight as the other hand wrapped around your leg, hiking it higher up on his hip.

The feel of his hips hammering you into the bed was enough to drive you mad.  His cock pushed deeper, faster, and harder.  It was like he could no longer help himself...now that you were under him, he was possessed.

Your hands reached around to his lower back, moving up and down in time with his thrusts.  Your pussy walls clenched around his cock every time he pushed inside of you and his grunts became louder because of it.  You gripped him like a vice and he had to hold himself off from cumming too soon.  He wanted you to cum again, but this...he wanted to feel it, experience it, memorize every fucking part of your cunt.

“Y/N...oh god pussycat, you’re killing me...your fucking cunt...it’s so damn tight and wet...god dammit!!” he yelled, tossing his head back.  Looking up at him losing control and fucking you harder and desperately...you wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving you.

His hand released your leg and went to the back of your head, making you look down at his cock thrusting in and out of you.  His other hand pressed to the bed, gripping the sheets.  “Look at how your cunt is taking my cock...taking my cock like a good little girl…”

Your orgasm was close as you watched his hips crashing down on yours, his cock moving quickly in and out of you.  You gripped his hips and screamed his name again and again.  Heisenberg moved forcefully, the bed banging against the wall.

“Fuck, Y/N!  Fuck!!!  Oh fuck, your amazing pussy is gonna kill me!” Heisenberg shouted.  You looked up into his face, his features twisted into pleasure so primal and hedonistic.  His hair fell in his face, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes were fused to yours.

“Cum inside of me, Karl,” you begged, squeezing his cock tightly inside of you.

“OH FUCK ME!!!” he shouted, tossing his head back.  You felt him cum, his cock twitching inside of you and in seconds you came as well, your body bucking wildly, holding tight to his hips.  Heisenberg continued to curse and grunt as he pumped every drop of cum inside of you.  You trembled under him, moving your hands up his sides, down his chest and stomach, and up his back.  He released a shaky breath as he slowly lowered himself onto his elbows, burying his face into your neck.

His body rocked on top of you, still thrusting slowly.  You kissed along his shoulder and nuzzled his skin with your nose.  The feel of his hot breath on your neck and his sweat-slicked skin against yours was incredible.  You never wanted him to let you go.

Heisenberg rolled to his side, pulling you with him, his cock still inside of you.  You lifted your leg and rested it atop his hip.  His fingers slid up and down your spine, making you shudder.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Heisenberg whispered, his lips pressed to your forehead, “so, so amazing…”

You closed your eyes, a smile spreading across your face, as you fell asleep in his arms.

[monsteronfire]

Fishing for a Star

type;; One-shot (6.4K words)

pairing(s);; fratboy!JK x older!Reader/OC

genre;; Slice of Life, Smut, College AU

warnings;; Drinking, oral (male receiving), shy!Koo, sub!Koo, slightly dom!Reader/OC, Yoongi being a dumbass voyeur, both parties pining for each other like idiots

a/n;; I feel like it’s been a motherfuckin’ year since I’ve written and posted anything. I honestly started this thing probably a year ago. I just really love the chill college parties trope. Might add more to this, but unlikely. Enjoy my pain as I cry over JK in leather.

edit;; Totally forgot to put a read more tag on here, sorry y’all. I even told myself to fucking do it right as I started the post. Also the pic isn’t mine, got it off Google.

------

“Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.”

You step out of the way for your housemate, the hoodie you’d picked out momentarily blinding you while you pulled it over your head.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be putting it on.” You say, finally getting it over your head and shaking the hair out of your face. You blink at her half-way-to-getting-ready state, noting in the back of your head how good she looks even now. Her hair is done, wavy and a little disheveled. The shine of the dark strands makes you want to run your fingers through them, knowing they will be soft. Her makeup is half done and she’s dressed only in her underwear, but she’s beautiful all the same. You can tell she’s planning to doll herself up tonight and why shouldn’t she? It’s one of the biggest frat parties of the year and with it being her last year, she’s aiming to have a good time.

“This is a party, (Y/N). At least try and look a little slutty.”

You snort and grin a little, watching her pop her hip out while she eyes you.

“Why is that, baby?” You reply, reaching up to pull a couple of strands of her hair back into place fondly.

“I plan to get laid tonight. I expect you to too, babe.” She snaps, swatting your hand away.

“Sorry, sexy. I’m fishing for something special tonight and it doesn’t require the slutty look.”

“Oh god, not again.”

“What?” You question, turning back to the full length mirror and carding your fingers through your own hair to fix it.

“You’ve been after this boy for three years, (Y/N). He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” She states, walking away from you and back into the bathroom. You’re still smiling when you check one final time to make sure the jeans you’re wearing make your ass look great before leaning against the door frame.

“That was my plan from the beginning. Now I just need to wrap him around mine.”

She snorts, leaning over the sink and closer to the mirror.

“I said three years, didn’t I? If you haven’t bagged him yet, you won’t.”

You pout at her, but are undeterred. You know what kind of person he is and you’re well aware of how much work he had and will continue to take. You could tell he was not a one and done from the first moment you saw him. He would take time, a lot of it and you were willing to put it all in.

“You know how stubborn I can be.” You chuckle at her. She rolls her eyes, but smirks none the less. She knows she can’t say a word to change your mind.

“Whatever. If I catch you two together, I’m telling him to fuck you already.”

You laugh as you walk away, working on gathering what you’ll want to take to the party.

“You sure I’ll even be allowed at this thing?!”

“Are you kidding?! Everyone is invited to this party. The doors are left open so anyone can just fucking walk in off the street!”

You chuckle, grabbing your bag and stuffing your wallet in it. You’d graduated a couple years ago and while most of the seniors would know you, you sometimes felt weird hanging out at a party in the college you’d already graduated from. A girl has to do what she has to do when a baby boy is on the line, though.

And a baby boy he was.

-

“Jae!”

You smile as you and your friend enter the large, old house. The lighting is dim, the music is thumping and all you can smell is alcohol, sex and sweat. There’s noise all around you, but you and your friend weave through the crowd easily. Nearly everyone greets you as you two pass, guys high-fiving you and girls giggling and touching your arms. You bounce to the music as you follow her, the two of you making your way past the front stairs and down the hall. You make a pit stop in the kitchen- Jae grabbing the classic Solo cup and you pulling a bottle of beer from a cooler full of ice- before heading out onto the back deck.

The backyard is just as crowded as the house, people in the pool, people in the gazebo and people littering about the yard and deck. There’s a large bonfire near the back of the yard and a couple other smaller fire pits in random spots. One of them is up on the deck in a small metal  pit, the warm flames surrounded by the very reason you and Jae came tonight.

“There’s our girls!” Namjoon shouts, lifting his can and drawing the attention of the seven other guys around him to you two. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jin all shout in unison as they spot you, Tae standing and pressing a sloppy kiss to your friend’s cheek. Yoongi and Namjoon lift their hands as you get closer and you reach out to slap each one. Jimin stands to press little pecks to first your cheek and then Jae’s. You all greet each other quietly before Jae slides herself into her target’s lap. She’s been after Jin all year and you haven’t been the only person sitting back to watch their game of cat and mouse. Jin is practically an expert at flirting just enough to keep her hooked without giving her what she really wants.

To be young and in lust.

Your eyes finally find the last member of the group, his silence keeping him out of spotlight unless he’s being searched for. He’s already looking at you when you spot him and his eyes dart down to his shoes while he shuffles behind Yoongi and Jimin. He can only keep his eyes off you for a moment before they find yours and he’s trapped. You smile softly at him, taking delight in how his eyes widen a fraction and his pupils grow. He’s holding a Solo cup, the rings on his fingers glinting in the firelight as he deftly squeezes them a bit tighter. He looks good tonight, his dark hair pushed back away from his forehead to show his strong brow. He’s dressed in all black, black t-shirt tucked into black jeans, black boots and to top it all off a leather jacket. He definitely pulled all the stops on you tonight and you have to make a conscious effort not to drool when you stare at him. He looks like a badass and you know every other girl in this joint sees him the same way, but you know the truth.

“Uh-oh,” Jae mumbles into Jin’s ear.

“She’s spotted her target and is locked on.”

You don’t bother listening to her, instead creeping closer to the object of your desire.

“Hey, Jungkookie,” You murmur quietly to him, leaning in a bit closer, but not too close. You had to be very meticulous with him.

“Hey, noona,” he responds shyly and the whole circle of friends is a sniggering mess for a moment. Pink begin’s to dust his cheeks, but you spare him a little and turn to flick Jimin in the back of the head.

“You lot are pretty curious tonight. Weren’t you all having a conversation before we came up?”

They all snigger some more, but quickly go back to bullshitting around the fire, leaving you and Jungkook in peace. You take another step closer to him, half expecting him to maintain the distance between you, but he remains still and lets you get closer. Threes years it’s taken you to get even this close to him, his overtly shy and sweet demeanor keeping him just out of reach of your darker, more corrupted hands.

“You look good tonight,” you comment and his blush darkens in the firelight. He thanks you almost too quietly, quickly bringing the cup of beer he’s holding to his lips to distract himself somehow and it has you chuckling lowly at him. He looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and you can’t stop the fiendish grin on your lips. You finally give him some respite, turning away from him to join in on the random conversation that the group is sharing around the small fire pit.

Finally…

He get’s his chance and takes it without a second thought. He spent years hesitating in such small matters and found himself either missing out or always caught if he didn’t take the chance when it was presented to him. So he learned. Now when you have those few precious moments where your focus is not on him- where you are off guard for just a beat- he gets to watch you instead. Watch the way your eyes glow in the firelight, or the way your hair just barely shifts as a warm breeze lazes by. He takes in your simple outfit, jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing like the rest of the girls at every party he’s ever been to. Your smile moves your whole face, your cheeks rising, you lips splitting and even your eyes squinting shut as you tease Taehyung. His lips quirk a little on their own when he notices that your ears shift a little when you smile as well.

Your lashes are long even without makeup, so much so that the first time he’d ever met you he could have sworn they were fake. But then he caught you tugging on them one afternoon while you told old stories with Namjoon. You did it regularly and had told him you could feel the dead ones coming out, you wanted to get them before they fell into your eyes. A quirk he’d logged away to keep safe for the rest of eternity. The beer in your one hand shifts to the other, the rings on your fingers clinking just loud enough for him to hear over Hoseok’s shouting. A hobby of sorts you shared with Jimin. You two wore the same ring size and often went shopping for new ones together, even swapping every now and again. The free hand moves about in the air as you speak and Jungkook thinks it almost weird now to see someone talk without gesturing with their hands so much. How did one truly immerse another in their words if they didn’t show them how it felt as well? When you were angry- fuming for either your own hardships or for those of a friend- you pointed a lot, your head shaking and your hands slicing through the air to signal how done you were. When you told stories of your adventures with the oldest members of his brothers your hands where always in the air; swiping, rolling, falling and twisting. You painted such a picture with only the movement of your hands when you spoke. They weren’t really dainty, your palms wide and your fingers not very long, but they fit perfectly with his hands. A fact that amazes him, but that he’s grown rather fond of. When you laugh, it’s loud. Not soft, not like the twinkling of bells, but like a song. Loud, but still beautiful and it can range from joyous mirth to deep and rich fondness, the type of feeling that fills your chest with warmth and adoration. That’s the laugh he enjoys the most, that deep chuckle. The one you give to him quietly so just the two of you can hear it.

He wants you. He was confused at first, for a long time. Scared of your mature age compared to him and your strength. He always sees you as strong, even if you don’t think so yourself. You always make him nervous, unsure if he is really worthy of the sweet attention you give him. The quiet whispers just between the two of you, the soft touches, the adoring look in your eyes. He fears all your attention, but he can’t deny now that he wants it- needs it. He can’t go a day without it.

-

The party winds down and you are delighted at the sight of mattresses being brought down and strewn haphazardly across the floor in their living room. When Jungkook finally picks his spot you waste no time in shuffling closer to his mattress. Normally you would keep your distance, allowing him his comfort of solitude to sleep, but you’ve already allowed him plenty of his liberties tonight. You will get something out of this evening if not a simple kiss in the dark. He shocks you by saying nothing as you lay down, your eyes just catching a glimpse of Jae and Jin heading upstairs. Probably to his room to finally earn what she’s worked so hard for. She quickly casts you a thumbs up, a large grin on her face as she tries to keep it unnoticed by anyone else in the room. You return the gesture and chuckle, groaning a bit when you body finally hits the not so comfortable springs. You take a moment to sigh before opening your eyes again and focusing them on the object of your desires.

He’s staring right back at you and your breath catches in your throat, lost in the sea of stars in his eyes. They’re wide and shining, staring so intently at you that you almost don’t take notice to the shine of his lips. Like he’s just licked them a few times. Even in the dim light of the moon that filters in through the windows and the very few lights in the house on you can see them glisten, and your eyes are torn between them and his shining eyes. He looks like a lost puppy staring at you, but there’s more in his eyes. He looks in awe, almost afraid and- dare you say it- a little eager. Like he wants something to happen, but it scares him and that thought alone drives straight to your core. A fire alights inside you and suddenly you’re staring back at him with equally wide eyes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The action immediately draws his large eyes to your mouth and fuck if you don’t almost groan when his tongue pokes out to lick nervously over his lips again.

His mouth parts ever so slightly and you swear you can hear him panting a little over the din of people ambling to where they plan to sleep. Someone plops down directly behind you, their back hitting yours as they shift to get comfortable. You’re right on the edge of the mattress, so this person has to be hanging off the one they’re laying on to be this close to you. And by the feel of how broad their shoulders are it’s definitely a man. Your eyes narrow and you almost growl when Jungkook stiffens in front of you and the man knocks against you again. Your head turns just enough to spot the thin, white shirt he’s wearing stretch over one shoulder before you’re shoving back with your elbow. He grunts when you dig into his back, but says nothing else, only leaning away from the discomfort. He’s clearly wasted. Still, he’s too close to you and taking the great opportunity presented before you, you scoot closer to the apple of your eye. He doesn’t shy away and it takes all your effort not to reach out to him when you finally focus back on him.

“Sorry,” you whisper, scooting just a tiny bit closer than you really need to. He shakes his head quietly, mumbling out an ‘it’s okay’ while his body leans closer to yours. God you want to ravage this sweet boy. It’s practically making your heart explode with how cute he’s being right now. He’d looked away in his response, but when he looks back to you he’s dragging his lip through his teeth and you really can’t take it. Again you two are lost in your own little world as you stare at each other.

“Jungkookie… you’re not being very nice to me right now.”

His eyes widen even further- if that’s even possible- and he looks almost stricken at the comment.

“What?” He manages to almost whimper out and you just can’t stop yourself from scooting even closer to him.

“You’re looking at me so sweetly, baby. How am I supposed to play nice with you tonight if you keep staring at me like that?”

You don’t know where all this confidence is coming from. Granted you’ve always been a bit more confident than the young man in front of you, but even still, you never thought you’d get to a degree where you were saying such flirtatious things in such a dominant tone to him.

“Play… nice?”

The glint changes in your eyes and Jungkook visibly shutters at the sight. Your eyes had been so deep and full of adoration just a moment ago, now all he sees is greed and lust. It makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants. Gods he’s been hard from the moment you called him that nickname- Jungkookie. He generally doesn’t like anyone, but the guys saying it. But every time you say it…

He’s almost scared to feel how excited he’s getting every time you scoot a little bit closer. He doesn’t want you to stop. Not until your body is finally pressed to his and he can hold you so tight, and never let go. He’d hoped something would have happened between you two before tonight, but he was always so scared and you were always so cautious with him. He just wants you to ravage him already. He’s dreamed about it practically every night, it might as well happen already.

“Stop,” you suddenly say and he can feel your fingers on his chin, pulling his lip from between his teeth.

“If you lick or bite your lips one more time,” you have to take a moment to calm yourself before continuing, “… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”

He throbs in his jeans and when he locks eyes with you he’s lost. He doesn’t want you to stop, he realizes that now after feeling your fingers touch his skin. Fire ignites where they trace from his chin and along his jaw. He trembles beneath your touch and you can feel it. Oh you can feel it. You do the opposite of what you just told him, biting your lip to draw his eyes to them again as you two gravitate ever closer.

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

He doesn’t speak, he feels like he doesn’t know how to in that moment. He doesn’t trust himself to anyway, so he does the next best thing. He licks his lips again and is rewarded. Your fingers that had been running along his jaw suddenly snake into the hair at the nape of his neck and you pull him close. He is just as needy as you are, his hands which had been fiddling with his shirt the whole time are suddenly flying up to tug your bodies even closer. Your lips crash against his and he whimpers into your mouth when you both open them simultaneously, your tongue dragging along his. It takes all your conscious effort not to moan, your body melding itself against his. His arms wrap around you and squeeze you to him, his whimpers turning into a little moan when you gain dominance in the kiss.

You pull away, one of your hands coming back to his jaw to to place a thumb over his open lips. You turn to look back at the bodies laying around the room, most of the members of the fraternity still down here, all of them passed entirely the fuck out. The guy just behind you is snoring up a storm and you can’t help smirking a little when you turn back to face Jungkook. He looks so fucked out already, his eyes glazed and his pupils blown wide as he pants lightly against your thumb. Your smile is both devious and full of fondness as you stare at him.

“You look so good baby, but you have to be quiet for me,” you whisper to him and he does nothing more than open his mouth wider. His tongue snakes out and licks against your thumb, pulling it in and sealing his lips around the appendage. He suckles on it hungrily and gods be damned if your panties aren’t soaked at this point.

“Fuck,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You want him so bad it almost hurts. He pulls away far enough that your thumb pops from his lips and he whimpers once again, pulling you as close as he can.

“Noona, please,” he says, his breath shuddering.

“Please what, baby?”

He grabs one your hands and pulls it down between your bodies, pressing your palm to the bulge in his jeans. Your breathing deepens when you palm the hardness through the thick fabric, wondering how you didn’t notice it before.

“Oh baby,” you coo quietly and rub your hand heavily over his bulge. He bites his lip to hold back the moan threatening to break free and you feel his hips start to rock into your hand. He’s so fucking hot, how have you been able to resist him for so long?

“How long have to been this hard?”

He takes a moment to respond, trying to take deep breaths. Your hand stalls to help him regain some semblance of sanity, but he seems against the idea. His hand returns to gripping yours, pressing your palm back against his hard-on.

“Long time,” he finally gets out in a clipped tone, probably unable to speak properly at this point.

“Poor thing.”

You pull closer to him, pressing your forehead to his and lowering your voice so that you’re barely audible.

“Take your cock out for me, baby. Please.”

He keeps you close and groans into your neck, only taking a moment to collect himself before he’s pushing away, and his hands are flying to undo his pants. He struggles with the button for a moment, but you don’t help him, only leaning back to watch with excitement. When he finally gets them undone he’s tugging them down just enough so he can freely pull is cock out and gods is it beautiful. Your mouth waters as soon as he has it out, its pink color and red head making you want to feel the weight of it on your tongue. It’s not particularly long, but it’s thicker than you thought it would be and the precum that glistens on his tip calls out to you. You let out a heavy breath when his hands hover just shy of his shaft, trembling and aching to give the poor weeping thing some relief. Still he hesitates to touch himself.

Such a good boy.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you practically wheeze out, finding it hard to breathe when your twitching hand finally reaches out for him. He’s whimpering before you even touch him and you have to remind him to be quiet when the tip of your finger goes to touch the head.

“Remember, baby, keep it down.”

He nods a little shakily and just as you press into the precum on his tip with your finger, his hands are flying up to cover his mouth. He’s so sensitive and you love it.

“Well, you’re certainly aching there aren’t you? Does it feel good to have me touch you?”

Again he nods and you pout, swirling your finger in the sticky fluid at his tip. His eyes clench shut at the sensation and he deftly thrusts his hips up to meet more of your hand.

“Use your words or I’ll have to stop.”

“Yes,” he whispers out harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his stomach, “… yes, yes, yes, yes!”

You smirk, the high you’re getting from all of this driving you to carry on.

“Good boy.”

You continue to swirl your finger over his tip a few more times, widening your circle until you’re sliding your finger down the top of his length, all the way to the base. He pants a little too heavily, his eyes glued to your hand and what you’re doing to him. You circle around his base to the bottom of his cock before dragging your finger back up and rubbing it deftly over the slit a few times.

“Fuck noona-“

“Language, Jungkookie.” You say with a smirk, your hand finally flattening over the underside of his length so you can palm him a few times. His hips rock against his will and meet you half way every time you press down on him. He looks so pretty like this, his eyes nearly black and so focused on how your palm drags over his length. He’s sweating a little, panting a lot and his gorgeous cock is ready to explode at any second. And you’ve barely even done anything to him yet.

“What made you so hard and needy like this?”

He stays silent for a long moment, only answering when the pressure of your hand lightens and you begin to pull away.

“You… you made me like this. You always… make me like this.”

Always?

“Fuck, Kookie, if you had told me sooner we might’ve actually got it in tonight.”

His eyes are glistening at this point as they shoot up to glance at you before scrunching shut when your fingers finally wrap around his shaft. You pump him slowly, but his hips make up for that and keep the sliding of his cock in and out of your hand at a steady pace.

“I wanted to. Fuck I wanted to, but…”

“But?”

He pants a few times, focused more on chasing his high. Your grip on his cock tightens to the point that he’s forced to stop thrusting, only allowing him to continue when he answers.

“I-I was scared. And you were being so cautious with me-“

“Of course I was! I didn’t want to scare you away. I worked too hard for you, I wasn’t going to mess that up by being too greedy.”

His hips stutter and then pause, his eyes opening to look at you. His face is flush, you can tell even in the dark, and his hair is starting to stick to his face. Still he looks like the sexiest, most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Why?”

“What?” You ask, not prepared to be questioned back like this.

“Why did you put so much effort into me. You could’ve easily slept with one of the other guys. Yoongi’s always had the hots for you. So has Tae. Why me?”

You take a long moment to mull over your answer, your other hand coming up to push some of his sweaty hair out of his face. When you get some clear, you lean in to kiss him a little more gently this time. Though it isn’t any less heated, it’s more of a deep sensual kiss than one of hunger and lust. When you pull away, you look him in the eyes when you answer.

“The same reason anyone chooses anyone else. You’re the one I wanted, Kookie. I would’ve put in a hundred years of work if I had to.”

His eyes are wide with adoration and awe, but the moment can’t last forever. His cock twitching in your hand reminds you of what is happening and you squeeze it gently before going back to pumping him. He gasps quietly at the sensation, his eyes falling closed and his body slowly starting to roll backwards. You move with him, pressing your body into his side when he’s finally laying flat on his back. His hands are clenching and unclenching against his stomach, desperate for some kind of anchor. A thought pings into your mind while you watch him grasp sporadically at his shirt, releasing his cock and pushing both his hands and the shirt up his abdomen. He whines at the loss of contact, lifting his head to see why you’d stopped stroking him only for his eyes to go wide. He looks a bit panicked, his gaze darting around to the half dead bodies around you two. You could so easily be caught, but most of the occupants of the house were completely wasted and would likely never remember this even if they did see it.

You slide down his body quietly, stealthily, like a cat taunting its prey into the shadows. Your eyes catch his and they hold him, their mischief so palpable that it makes Jungkook’s mouth go dry and his cock pulsate so fiercely it taps against his stomach. Your one hand trails down his side lightly, nails tickling his hip and thigh so that he’s shuddering beneath you. He reaches for you, one hand cupping your cheek- wants to tell you to stop, but his throat is so dry he can’t even whisper. Or perhaps he’s lying to himself and doesn’t want you to stop at all. When you quirk an eyebrow in question and you feel the object of your desire tap against your throat with another needy pulse, you know the answer is no, he doesn’t want you to stop.

A trembling whisper of your name leaves his lips and you can only smirk, tilting your head down to kiss just above his navel and then to one side of it. Down, down, further you trail, your kisses getting sloppier as you descend closer to your target. Your tongue and teeth leave wet, rosy patches as you go and you can feel his muscles quivering every time you touch him until finally the desperately red tip of his cock is right in front of you. He whimpers beneath you and you shush him gently, unable to tear your eyes away from the way it pulses and twitches up towards you.

“Please,” he finally lets out, sounding much like he’s on the verge of tears. You smirk again and glance up at him through your lashes.

“Please what, baby?”

He huffs cutely, his other hand cupping the other side of your face and his thumbs smoothing along your cheekbones like he’s so desperate to just pull you into his cock, but doesn’t want to be too demanding. You smile a bit more when his look gets more and more frantic, one of your arms reaching up to rub his chest under his shirt soothingly.

“Relax, my sweet star. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“P-please…”

“Go on, baby. I know you want it, just tell me.”

“Please, I want your mouth,” he finally shutters out, but you can’t help yourself and push just a bit more.

“What do you want from my mouth?”

He huffs again and looks away, searching the room to make sure everyone there is truly oblivious.

“I-I want…”

“Want?”

“Please, noona, ravage me with your mouth.”

He looks you directly in the eyes as he finishes and the glee that soars through you practically makes you light headed. You grin broadly at him and bite your lip.

“I’ll give you anything you want, bunny. You just have to ask.”

Before he can really bask in your words you focus back on his cock, the hand that had been trying to soothe him shooting down to wrap gently round his base and lead his head to your waiting tongue. His breath shudders out and his mouth opens to let out a rush of air. The precum leaking from his tip covers your tongue in salt, but you don’t mind, all too desperate to feel the full weight of him at the back of your throat. Still you take your time, only licking at his slit to tease him, another droplet of precum oozing out every time to you do.

He’s panting while he watches you, his hands trembling on your face until one shakily weaves into your hair at the crown of your head. He doesn’t grip or pull, doesn’t try to shove more of his cock into your mouth which is what you’re used to. No, he’s too gentle and sweet to force anything. He only wants and lets you lead the way. When you finally wrap you lips around his tip he can’t hold back the noise, his head falling back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and what he hopes is a quiet moan leaving him. And you can only smirk at the sound, the subtle shudder in his voice making you even more wet and your stomach clench with desire.

You take the time to generously wet the head of his cock, delighting in its twitches while you swirl your tongue around him. When you pop him from your lips the poor thing looks pathetic, practically weeping in your fingers and you feel all too obliged to take him back in. Only this time you take him all in, or at least as much as you can. You suck him all the way to the back of your throat, moaning quietly around his shaft so he can feel the vibrations. And oh does it make him make the most wonderful of sounds. A surprised cry and the slapping of a hand over his mouth (the one that was lightly stroking his fingers along your cheek) has you trying to smile around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-…”

He lets the mantra trail off quietly, his body arched so you can’t see his face anymore. And as much as you adore the sight of him losing control, you’d much rather see the pleasure on said face. You suck harshly and pull off him, letting him once again pop from your lips. You take care to pump him slowly while you speak, you spit slicking his cock enough that there’s little friction.

“Look at me baby.”

It takes him a few moments, but you wait patiently until he realizes you gave him an order and he follows through. He looks a little lost when he finally locks eyes with you, his gaze a little wild like he can’t really see you at first.

“Noona?”

“Are you with me, sweetheart?”

He looks confused, but nods all the same, probably ready to agree to anything at this point.

“Listen carefully, baby. I want you to look at me the whole time. Don’t you dare look away or I’ll stop, okay? Eyes on me.”

He nods deftly, afraid he won’t be able to fulfill your request, but eagerly wanting to please you.

“Good boy.”

You don’t give him any time to prepare himself and suck him back in as far as he’ll go. He wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, quickly remembering your order and opening them back up to focus on you again. You smirk around his cock to let him know you approve and focus back on your task. When you can’t push him any further down your throat you opt to bob your head, one hand stroking what you can’t swallow and the other massaging his balls. You look up every few seconds to make sure he’s still watching and only have to stop once to make him look at your again. The sloppier his cock and your mouth gets the more he shakes and shudders beneath you, the hand in your hair trembling like a leaf in the wind. He keeps his other hand up by his face, ready to cover his mouth every time he can’t hold back a whimper or moan.

It doesn’t take long, only a few minutes and he’s desperately pleading to you, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I-“

You push him in as far as you can take and swallow around him just once before he’s shooting his load down your throat. Tears form in his eyes when he squeezes them shut and you can’t fault him when his head falls back onto the mattress. He did such a good job of watching you, you’ll let him have this one. When the last of his cum is swallowed down, you take care to gently clean what you can off his cock with your tongue. He shakes and gasps beneath you as you do, his head shaking back and forth as if to say he can’t take anymore. You pop off him one last time and kiss his tip softly, grinning when he finally cracks his eyes open to look at you.

He looks madly in love while he stares at you and it makes you somewhat nervous to see such intense emotion in his eyes. You lift yourself and crawl back up his body, pausing to help him pull his pants back up and his shirt back down. You hush him when he tries to button and zip everything back up, pushing his weak and tired hands away.

“No one will notice, just rest baby.”

“Well that was hot.”

You freeze over him, Jungkook’s body going rigid and his eyes widening with fear. You both look over your shoulder and spot Yoongi a small ways away from the foot of your mattress, laying on his side with his head propped up in one hand. He’s smirking at the two of you and while Jungkook looks mortified, you only feel proud. Now someone has witness that Jungkook is yours and no one else can have him.

“Hyung,” he whispers harshly, both his hands coming up to cover his face. You smile fondly at your boy before looking back to Yoongi.

“Well if you’re good and keep this to yourself, maybe next time you can join us.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow and grins excitedly, Jungkook letting out a panicked noise when you settle in beside him. He whispers to you quietly as if he doesn’t want Yoongi to hear and you only shush him gently to calm him.

“Lay down and rest, bunny. Don’t worry about him, he’ll keep quiet.”

“But-“

“Shh, sleep.”

You run your fingers through his hair until he finally settles down, turning so that he can wrap himself around you and tuck his head under your chin. You chuckle lovingly and continue to pet him, using your free hand to flip Yoongi off when he makes lewd gestures at you in the dark.

[aoceanofstars]

One Set of Footsteps

Mother was harvesting again.  It was time to find a very dark, deep hole to crawl into and hide.  If she was lucky, Mother and her minions wouldn’t find her.  If she wasn’t lucky -

Song knew that there were worse things than death.  Being trapped in your own body, unable to do anything as it was treated like a puppet - she thought that made that list of things.

Ahead of her she spotted what looked like a military base.  This part of the desert was littered with them and almost all of them had been gutted for useful parts ten years ago when the world had gone to hell.  Now most of them were either warlord camps or ghost haunted ruins.  She had to take the chance.  Anything was better than being out in the open when Mother was looking for new crops to harvest.

She used up a bit more of her limited luck.  The base looked deserted.  She kept her bat ready but didn’t take her time about getting inside either.

On the surface it was the usual barracks and bunkers but she’d been at this too long.  She kept looking, searching for the hidden steps or ladder that would lead underground.

It wasn’t surprising when she finally found it.  What was surprising was that everything past the bunker door that she hacked looked pristine.  No panicked turned over chairs, no scorch marks, no hastily discarded supplies.  Somehow the lack of anything made the hidden bunker eerie.  Like walking into a tomb, just waiting for the ghosts that lived there to realize you were where you didn’t belong.  Song’s steps rang hollow on the metal stairs as she descended, echoing too loud no matter how soft she tried to make them.  Nothing, not a single sound, breathed back at her. 

It was a relief to reach the bottom floor, to be off the stairs announcing each step she took and she made a quick circuit of the lower area, looking in the rooms as she went.  Looking in at a world untouched by ten years of nightmares and running that was even now playing out, yet again, several stories above her in the red desert dust.  She’d been alone for seven years now, ever since Dani had been harvested, and she’d learned to get used to it but somehow, the silence, the careful order here, suddenly made her nervously aware of just how alone and on her own she really was.

Her eyes caught on something and she was edging into the room before she even realized she was doing it, instinctive override of the front of her brain by something deeper and older than that.  Because -

one of the tubes in the room...

Her heart backed up into her throat and she felt a wash of vertigo, as if she was inside a shifting dream at the part where everything became a nightmare.  No.  No, that was a human body in that tube and it wasn’t marked with the tell-tale spore pattern almost everyone wore these days.  At first she thought it was dead, a perfectly preserved corpse, a broken version of sleeping beauty, forever eternal and young floating in preservatives. 

But then bubbles escaped the mask over the lower part of the face and the tube beeped a quiet sound to itself.  A few seconds later - it did it again.

Keeping time with a heartbeat and the exhales that drove it.

Things blurred for her then.  There were buttons, a keypad, a computer terminal.  She’d gotten so very good at hacking military computer terminals over the past decade, teenage hobby growing into the adult’s salvation.  There were beeps and flashing little lights and her fingers punching keys and somewhere, very far away, her brain wondering what the hell she thought she was doing.  She would have almost blamed it on Mother - but you didn’t get to make noise when Mother controlled you and Song realized there was a weak, shaking sound juttering out of her tight throat as her fingers moved.  There was a rush, the liquid flushed from the tube, a panel in it slid open and suddenly there was a falling body she somehow wasn’t ready for and that she barely caught against herself before the weight of it took them both to the floor. 

The breathing mask tumbled free, rolled somewhere across the room.  She didn’t know where her bat was anymore. 

His body was warm and she checked, suddenly desperate, for a pulse.

Alive.

He was alive.

For the first time in seven years - she wasn’t alone.

                                          Chapter Two:

“Maybe,” he said.  “It’s time for you to fill me in on what’s going on.”

aaaaand that’s it!  There is no Chapter Two, I just wanted to use the picture.  @wistfulpoltergeist​  just released the lovely Chakan Arthit sim and I had to give him a proper introduction into my game.  Strangerville just fit the bill perfectly.  Also thanks to Leeifi over on the exchange for the perfect SV Militray Base to play around on and @anlamveg​ , @ashwwa​, @atashi77, @sciophobis​ and others for the cc and poses.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #17

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16]

[AO3]

*In this house we stan string theory and multiple dimension theory *Also, this chapter gets a little preachy, and delves more into my interpretation of the series so to make up for it I made a lot of art.

~POV Sinbad~ "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" When Ja'far cut in he was in a rush; he didn't want to miss this chance. Sinbad had underestimated Ja'far's concerns; he had been too preoccupied with the Prophet. All the same, "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with everyone after all." Wait. He knew that look. Ja'far wasn't actually asking to have that conversation now. He was pressuring Mori so she would have to agree to tell them soon. "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." Mori was wearing the same stern expression she had the morning of the coup in Balbadd. When Ja'far had cut in with his request he could have tried to sound a little nicer but it didn't warrant the cold response Mori gave in return. There had been rising tensions between Ja'far and Mori since Balbadd, but both seemed to get along most of the time. "Wait really? You're agreeing this easily?" Ja'far's shock also spoke for the King. She obviously didn't want to talk about the Calamities even when she promised to tell them, so why now? "A promise is a promise." Mori almost felt like a completely different person compared to the coy way she was teasing them all just moments ago. "Besides, this will just continue to be a point of contention until I explain."

--- King Sinbad was finally eating with his Generals and Prophet, but this was nothing like he had planned. Mori sat straight with both hands on the table interlocked. "The 1st of the 2 calamities occurs in about 2 years. As you know, there's a few countries that currently have rising tensions." Which countries? The Kou and Riem were prime contenders since they were already Empires causing trouble for other countries. There was also Magnostadt which has been becoming increasingly hostile to other nations, and seemed to be encroaching on the Kingdom of Actia. "In 2 years, 3 of them are going to go to war. A massive amount of black Rukh will be released, and the same type of magic used to make the Dark Djinns will be used to make a humanoid monster the size of a mountain." Of course, Al Thamen would be involved. "The amount of black Rukh it will have will make it a Medium for opening a black spot and letting Ill Ilah connect to the world which is Al Thamen's ultimate goal. Once Ill Ilah connects it will destroy all of the white Rukh in the world -bringing death." It sounded just like what Falon had described as her plan all those years ago. The same thing that happened in Parthevia a decade ago is going to happen again in only 2 years? "The Medium is destroyed before that can happen thanks to all of the current Metal Vessel users and assimilated Household Members coming together to destroy it. The world is saved but in the process one of the Magi will have to commit one of the ultimate taboos of this world. That taboo is what will eventually lead to the 2nd Calamity. If King Sinbad and the Metal Vessel users of the Seven Seas Alliance, which were the last to arrive, can show up sooner then that taboo and the 2nd Calamity might be something that can be fully avoided especially since I already know the Medium's weakness." It was clear that Mori knew more. Sinbad would have to talk to her about it later; he wasn't sure how much he wanted to talk about this tonight -they were supposed to be celebrating and getting to know each other light heartedly. However, there was one question he couldn't hold back from asking. "What is this taboo?” Mori sighed like she had expected that question. She looked to the ceiling. "Honestly, I didn't want to think it was a taboo when I first learned it, but after seeing what happens I get it now." She looked back at them. "I hope you can accept me not telling what it is. I don't want to even try to explain the 2nd Calamity because I'm not sure how without explaining the taboo. You see, the taboo involves information, so if I explain it to you I will be committing the taboo myself. I can only hope that the world isn't endangered because I know it." The air in the room felt thick. All of the Generals were waiting for his decision. Sinbad tried to read the Prophet's expression. It was serious, and determined; it seemed like fear and remorse were hiding right under the surface. What information could be dangerous on its own? "Alright," he agreed. "We don't want to take any unnecessary risks. However, if we are unable to prevent the taboo from being committed you will explain the 2nd Calamity." Mori attempted a half-hearted smile. "I was already planning to do that." She glanced around at the Generals. "Are there any other questions?" Sharrkan grumbled. "This is all really complicated stuff." "Yeah. Pretty scary, huh?" Pisti agreed. Drakon and Hinahoho were sharing a look while thinking.

"You still haven't told us where this is going to happen." Ja'far decided he would ask the next question. "Are you withholding that information on purpose?" Mori's expression was blank. "I'll tell you the countries involved after King Sinbad returns from the Kou Empire. I don't want to influence how the negotiation goes by giving him too much information he wouldn't normally have. I'm doing this for Balbadd..." Mori withholding vital information was the entire cause of Ja'far's distrust of her. "You took too long to tell us what was going to happen back in Balbadd, remember? If we know what their next target is then we can stop it before it ever happens." "The 1st Calamity has nothing to do with Al Thamen." "What?” that question was asked by all except the Prophet. Mori explained, "That country has refused contact with them and been building towards this for the past 10 years all on its own. All of the Black Rukh that has been accumulated there is like a trap waiting to be set off. The people currently in charge are not people who would be willing to accept change, or to listen to the arguments of the people here." That definitely narrowed it down. Riem was already having meetings with them, and it was only a matter of time before they formed an alliance. They already had the peace treaty with the Kou, and King Sinbad was about to go negotiate with them for Balbadd. That only left Magnostadt as the center of the conflict -the country they knew had increasing disparity between it's upper and lower classes. Mori was staring at him. He wasn't the one she was actually hiding this from. Since it didn't seem to be an avoidable Fate, she was preventing Yam from learning the Fate of her home country for as long as possible. Mori was trying to be considerate. "How is that possible?” "If they aren't behind it then how could such a thing happen??” Mori gave a sad smile. "It would be so much easier if all of the bad things in this world really were all caused by that organization. I had wrongly thought that was how this world works in the heat of the moment back in Balbadd, but I know better. I've read this world's Fate after all. Even in this world it is a mistake to hold onto the hope of total altruism too strongly." It almost felt like she was calling them all naïve with that last statement. She looked down at her hands. "Sentience, experience and free will make us all imperfect. All people are shaped by their past and everyone has a vice. There will always be people who think they are above everyone else, people who think they are right because of their feelings, people who think that they deserve something just because they want it or that they can do something because it is available to them," she looked back up and made direct eye contact with her King, "people that think that their luck or privilege is a sign that they were chosen by Fate, that they are the only one who can do something because they are special and that that means they are righteous and their failings mere stepping stones when in reality they are all normal people just like the rest of us." ///She knows nothing about being a Singularity. There's no greater proof of being chosen by Fate!/// Since the Fall of First Sindria, Sinbad had been hearing a voice periodically. It was like stray thoughts -many were opinions he didn't really have. The fact that the voice felt the same as him in this made a pit form in his stomach.

Mori gestured at him and continued. "Even his Majesty being a 'Singularity' is only something rare. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. You know I can read the waves of Fate as well, so it's obviously not the type of thing that you or Al Thamen makes it out to be. There is no 'chosen one.' No one is immune to human fault or failing. 'Fate' is the history of how all of our decisions affect each other.” It was like she was reading his thoughts. There were other Singularities? Mori could also read the waves but- The waves in the room were over flowing. This was greater than when Mori changed things in Balbadd. They were far off topic now, but this was more important. ///She doesn't understand anything. I've read Fate!/// Those stray thoughts hated Mori and how she was changing things since the beginning even though when Sinbad read the waves around her he liked the direction they were going. Her waves wouldn't stop him from reaching his dream. If that voice was this against what she was doing then he had to know more. "Mori, please tell me, what makes you so sure? You say you've read Fate; how can you say there isn't a grand plan? Can you really deny that the Rukh guide us?" Would they have to agree to disagree? Was this something he could afford for the Prophet of his own country to not see his way? She watched him and the Generals as she thought. "There is a 'plan,' but it isn't absolute. I read more than one 'Fate' for this reality. If Fate was already fully decided then in Balbadd Judar would have defeated all of you instead of being crushed by Ugo, and Cassim would have married Princess Kougyoku instead of dying, but that didn't happen, now did it? When I read Fate, I read how it was changed from it's original design by the people of this world. And as I've already said, I couldn't be here if everything was already decided.” ((these are things that are said to be in the og draft of Magi, but got changed when actually making the scenes)) They had been changing Fate's course before Mori arrived? Was that even possible? Mori wasn't the type to lie out right over something like this. Between her demeanor and the waves, he could tell she wasn't lying. He had to know where this new path was leading and asked an obvious question. "Isn't it just as likely that those 'changes' were supposed to happen?" Mori scowled at that. "Anything is true somewhere. There are infinite realities where any Fate is true. Every moment infinitely more form to account for every possibility -every decision, and unexpected change, even an asteroid coming and destroying the planet. If you can imagine it, it is reality somewhere." Sinbad had read Fate in the waves, of course he knew about there being other possibilities. Were there really other realities where he had followed one of the other paths? Mori didn't wait for him to comment. "There's no way to know which destiny or Fate we are following until it's already happened. Being able to read the waves has helped me narrow it down to 2 or so of the Fates that I read for this reality, but it can't account for everything. Since I can't read my own Fate I can't know how my presence will affect things." Mori continued, "When I read this reality's Fate, I learned how it functions on a fundamental level. Everything is made up of Rukh and is dictated by the Rukh and magoi. The Great Flow of the Rukh 'guides' the living but it is also affected by the wants and desires of the living. It sees all those wishes and creates opportunities for people to realize those dreams based on how many want that dream to become real. But it's still up to the living how they react. The Great Flow creates opportunities and makes suggestions, but it can't make your decisions for you. And" Mori paused while looking for the right words, "and the more magoi directed at a certain wish the more likely the Great Flow will try to help." Mori waited for them to absorb the meaning of her words. That meaning made Sinbad nervous. If she wasn't lying... Drakon broke the silence. "That would mean that someone with

a lot of magoi would have a greater affect on the Great Flow." "It does." Mori confirmed. Was that really how the Great Flow of the Rukh worked? How Fate worked? Mori stayed silent again, reading them as much as they were reading her. The waves were still high. Yam was the next to comment. "I know the amount of magoi a person has defines how strong of a magician they can become, but it sounds like those born with a lot of magoi also have an amazing privilege when it comes to the Great Flow." "Exactly." Mori agreed. "The people that Fate seems to favor aren't chosen by Fate or particularly special. They are born lucky just like those born rich." She paused. "All Dudgeon Capturers have an above average amount of magoi. A Djinn won't select a King that doesn't even have enough magoi to use their power. The more Djinns a person has, the more magoi they need to have. King Sinbad, you were born with a rare ability, and the equivalent magoi of a large city or small county -even before all that Rukh merged with you in Parthevia. If you didn't, there would be no reasons for the Djinns to cut you off from trying to capture more Dungeons." "What?" Sinbad's question slipped out of him in an airy gasp. He knew he had more magoi than average, but this would make him no different from those that grew up as royalty thinking that they were inherently better than their poor subjects. He wasn't sure if he could believe her, but the waves of Fate had never lied to him. The Prophet's waves were overwhelming the space, encouraging him to believe her. It was obvious how this information would change things. King Sinbad had more than the waves, he also had a sharp intuition. There was something hidden in her words. Some truth about his future that she hadn't told them yet. Even if he had been intentionally given these privileges by Fate, Mori had already stated that his decisions were his own. When Mori had said there were people that conflated their privilege with a righteous roll given by Fate it definitely included him. But if he wasn't chosen by Fate, if they had been changing Fate all along, then what was what happened in Parthevia or Riem? Mori's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Not being chosen by Fate and everyone having free will is a good thing if you ask me. It means when someone chooses to do right by others it is because they chose to, not because someone is forcing or directing them. I like to think that everyone thinks they are doing the right thing, and only act out against others because of strong emotions and ignorance. The cure for most negative emotions is a stable environment ((including medication for those who need it)) and the cure for ignorance is education. These are things that Sindria and the Seven Seas Alliance are able to provide. "All of you are using your privileges and talents to help people, and to bring peace to the world. Regardless of whatever mistakes you made in the past, this country and the current state of the world are a direct result of your choices. These choices you've all made are even more admirable because you made them on your own. Isn't that why so many have sided with Sindria already? It's also one of the main reasons I chose to become Sindria's Prophet in the first place. With your help, we can greatly reduce the disparity of this world and raise the quality of life for everyone." Her smile was soft and confident. Mori's waves overtook his own.

The King had a thought that shook him, but it was Hinahoho that asked it, "You didn't just tell us some of the taboo information, did you?" "What? No." Mori was shocked by that question. "His Majesty and others would have figured this out all on their own in about 5 years -not to mention those that already know it." He could try to deny it, return to the path he was on, but he would know deep down that she was right. And apparently, he would figure this out in the future anyway. There was no reason to hold himself back then. He could see that now -there was no going back. This was one of the changes he had felt in her waves from when he first met Mori. ///How can she say such foolishness?? This woman must die before she ruins everything!!/// A chuckle slipped out of Sinbad. That voice really did hate his Beautiful Prophet. His waves were changing. He was changing. But he still had the same dream: to create a world without war or poverty. Mori's goal was to remove disparity. Even their goals worked well together. Why had he been so sure that being a Singularity made him some special chosen one? When had that started? It was members of Al Thamen that had told him that. They were the enemy yet he still believed their manipulation so completely. Sinbad knew why deep down. If he was chosen by Fate then his actions would be righteous and the awful things he experienced were stepping stones. Like a child learning to take responsibility and step out of the shadow of their parents, in this too he would have to take ownership for his place in the world. He would be thinking about this a lot in the coming days. All of this information was invaluable. Why did Mori choose to follow him if she knew all this? There was no way she didn't know how he viewed himself and the world before this conversation or the mistakes he had made. Was it thanks to opportunities that the Great Flow gave him that he was able to seduce her to his side? No. Mori already knew what was going to happen. She knew the future more clearly than what the waves could show. She knew him and his methods as well. She knew that the Kou Fleet had been on it's way. That meant Mori would have been deciding where she wanted to go and weighing her options from the beginning. Mori made her decision, gave him a slow drip feed of what she was capable of, and made sure each request he had of her was given a price. She wasn't just withholding her help due to a lack of trust; she was leading him to make the best possible offer. She knew that he would try to bring her to his side if he knew her value. He had played into her hands not the other way around. Why didn't this realization upset him? This new information wasn't going to stop him from achieving his dream. In fact, now that he had a better idea of how the Great Flow worked he could consciously use it to his advantage. He got what he wanted and it was mutual -not simply Fate. They both wanted this. This was making him excited. The smile on her face was one he recognized. He had worn it when he was young whenever he had convinced others to his side. Mori was cut from the same cloth. She had agreed to have this conversation not just because of Ja'far's insistence; she was after the opportunity to clear up his misunderstanding about Fate. ((plz ignore that I forgot to draw my freckles in most of the shots and am too lazy to fix it.))

[bluerosewritings]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns | Overblot!Riddle x Reader

You charged through the rose maze, cursing how loud your footsteps were. You'd heard Heartslabyul students talk about how insanely hard it was to even get halfway through the maze, but you never thought it would be this bad. Why, out of everything you could have done, did you think it would be a good idea to run into here?

Everything had gone so wrong. All you'd wanted was to help Ace and Deuce get out of their punishment - and if solving that with a duel meant helping the other students, great! There's no way it could end up worse than what happened in the Dwarf Mines, right?

You envied your past self's innocence.

In a weird way, you blamed yourself. If you hadn't opened your mouth, Riddle wouldn't have retaliated, so Ace wouldn't have decked his dorm leader in the face, someone wouldn't have thrown that egg at Riddle, Riddle wouldn't have freaked out and started beheading everyone, and he wouldn't have turned into... that. With that... thing hovering behind him like some sort of cruel puppeteer, looking way too familiar to whatever had tried to hurt you and your friends in the Dwarf Mines. Had you always been this unlucky?

Crowley had barely been able to say a thing before Riddle had cast Off With Your Head on the headmaster, then on Trey, Cater, and whatever poor souls that hadn't yet escaped Heartslabyul, tying them up with rose bush roots. Once again, you'd been the only one without a collar - maybe it was because of your lack of magic, maybe it was because you were from another world, you didn't know. You didn't hang around to find out - once Grim's yells at you to hurry up and get out of there snapped you out of your horrified trance, you bolted. Unfortunately, Riddle had noticed your sudden departure and chased after you, screaming your name.

You'd ducked into the Rose Maze hoping to shake him off. You wished you hadn't - all that you'd accomplished was getting yourself lost. Riddle's voiced seemed to be getting closer and closer by the minute, too.

"(y/n)!" Speak of the devil. The sudden shock of his voice nearly made you trip. "Come out this instant! Do you want your punishment to be even more severe!?"

Shaking off his words (or were you literally shaking?), you turned the corner. There seemed to be more and more roses as you went on - maybe a sign you were nearing the exit? Hoping so, you followed the blood-red flowers.

"(y/n)! I'm saying this for your own benefit! Tell me where you are, now! (y/n)!"

The leaves seemed to be disappearing under the red petals. A war between the two pieces of nature, two things that should be living in harmony instead being tainted by greed and ruining their peace. You had to be nearly out.

"(y/n)!!"

There were barely any leaves left now.

One last turn. One last turn and you should be--

Stuck. The roses didn't lead to the end of the maze at all. They led to the center of it.

A statue of the Queen of Hearts, like the one in the school among the other Great Seven, seemed to mock you with her smug expression. Now that you got a good look at her, she looked eerily similar to the specter haunting Riddle. Of course she did.

"So this is where you've been."

You turned so fast you fell over. Your mind couldn't even register the pain from your new cuts as you stared up in terror at the twisted form of Riddle. The boy himself seemed to be conflicted on whether to look at you with sympathy or smirk.

He settled on disappointment. "If you'd have just answered me earlier, you wouldn't be in such a sad state now, would you? Good grief."

Though he approached you at a normal pace, even that was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Desperately you tried to push yourself off the ground. Only it didn't work - you looked down to see yourself literally rooted to the floor. Following the root's path, you saw they were coming from the two rose bushes levitating by Riddle's side. No surprise there.

Out of options, you looked up at this new version of Riddle looming over you. Trying not to let your fear show, you glared at him. The look only caused Riddle's eyebrow to twitch before his emotions exploded forth.

"Don't look at your Queen that way! Change your expression immediately!"

"W-Why should I?"

"You...!" Blood rushed to Riddle's face. "Ever since I met you, everything you've done...! Causing a disturbance at the entrance ceremony, encouraging Ace and Deuce's idiotic behaviour, even managing to turn Cater and Trey against me...! I should despise every single part of you! So why...!?"

Before you could ask what he meant, the rose roots shot their way up your back, repositioning themselves so they pushed you upwards. You had no time to react - not that you could do much, your hands were still restricted, now bound together - as Riddle tangled his fingers in your hair and forced his lips on yours.

It took you a second to process what he was doing. Once you realised, you begun trying to wriggle your way out of his grip. Unfortunately, this only annoyed Riddle further - he tugged at your hair, causing you to yelp. Riddle took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Any cries of protest went ignored.

You weren't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Riddle finally pulled away you wasted no time gasping for air. There was a metallic taste invading your mouth. Your first thought was that it was blood but you couldn't raise your hand to check.

Riddle kept your foreheads touching, his hand still in your hair to keep you from moving away. You thought you were the only one that was dealing with a lack of air, but it seemed that Riddle's power up couldn't keep him from panting.

"Why...?" Riddle looked you in the eyes. The dark intensity scared you. It was a mix of anger, regret, confusion... and something else that somehow scared you even more.

"Why did I have to fall for someone like you...?"

Love.

Somehow the ferocity of the first kiss hadn't made it click for you. Now, however, the rush of fear gave you the strength to fling your head back and crash it onto Riddle's.

Only your foreheads were connected but it was enough. Riddle yelled in pain and let go of you. You fell on to the floor but were quick to get up as the pain was distracting Riddle from his control spell.

"(y/n)...! HOW DARE YOU!?"

You make it to the other side of the Queen of Hearts statue before roots burst out of the ground and latch on to your ankles. Caught mid-run, the sudden stop causes your to fall face-forward onto the floor. More roots appear to take advantage of the opportunity, latching themselves around you, binding you to the ground.

You couldn't turn your head, but you could feel Riddle approaching, glaring at your back. You weren't sure what was worse; the foreboding sense of darkness from Riddle's stares or the crushing feeling from the roots.

By the time Riddle was standing in front of you, black dots were decorating your vision. Tears were dripping out your eyes as you were unable to stop them. The unknown anxiety from what Riddle would do made breathing even harder. Riddle gritted his teeth, still nursing his head.

"Why do you insist on being so disobedient!?" Riddle growled. "Is it just because it's me!? You have no problem listening to those first-year ruler breakers! Is it them? Did they influence you? It has to be! It's their fault!"

"No...!" You croaked out.

Every word Riddle spoke caused the roots to become tighter. The tears fell even harder as you gasped for air like a fish out of water.

"No? Look at yourself!" Riddle scoffed. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd just followed my rules! I should have approached you from the start... I should've seen what leaving you alone would do. Damn it!"

"Pl...ease...!" You could barely make out Riddle's words. A dull ringing was going off in your ears, making it hard for you to focus.

"You had so much potential, right from the beginning, even if the mirror said you were magic-less, I saw it!" Riddle continued to scold himself, unaware of your desperation. "I should've told Crowley to place you in Heartslabyul, where I could've kept you on the right track... instead you had to become a rule-breaker! Why!?"

"I'm... sorry...!" You cried out.

The words caught Riddle's ears. He finally turned to you, realising what he'd caused. Gears turned in his head before he finally spoke.

"You're sorry, what?" He tried.

"I... I'm sorry, my Queen...! Riddle...!"

Instantly, the pressure was released. The sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs made you choke. Even though the roots were off you, you stayed laying on the ground, not wanting to push Riddle into doing that again.

"(y/n)." You looked up. "Come here."

Riddle stiffly opened his arms, as if embarrassed by the act. You hesitated, unsure if it was a trap. Riddle frowned.

"(y/n). Come here, now."

Out of options, you slowly pushed yourself off the floor. You still hadn't completely recovered, so you more stumbled than walked into Riddle's arms. It didn't seem to matter - the second you hit his chest, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. The similarity to what had happened not long ago earlier caused you to tremble. Riddle didn't seem to notice.

"Thank goodness." Riddle sighed in relief, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "You're not too far gone... you just need to properly learn the rules... that's a relief..."

The smile you felt caused your skin to crawl. Riddle began tracing kisses up your neck, across your jawline then connecting your lips again.

The kiss was softer this time, a chaste one that would've made your heart race if the situation wasn't so, so wrong. Even so, the fear of angering whatever you were kissing made you lightly press back. The monster in Riddle's form pulled back slowly, a child-like smile on its face.

One hand came away from your waist and ghosted against your neck. It sighed before you felt a wisp of magic circling your neck. While you couldn't see it, you felt the new accessory adorning your neck - a black choker with a red heart outlined with gold at the front; with no clasp to take it off.

Riddle hummed in approval, happy at the sight. He wasn't as pleased when he saw the look in your eyes -  a poorly concealed fear at what he'd done. He sighed, giving you a quick kiss before leaning you into his neck now instead. He raked his fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

"I'm doing this for your benefit." He explained. "It's my fault for letting you hang around bad influences, but it's okay now. I'll make things right for you. You'll be following the rules perfectly in no time."

Riddle placed a kiss on your forehead and leaned next to your ear. He pressed a finger against the heart of your choker.

"You will, or it's off with your head."

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

                So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

                But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

        You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

        That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

        "Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

        "Who are you?"

        "The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

        "The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

        It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

        Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

        And that second was all she needed to do what was needed. 

        Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you. 

        "Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly. 

        By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

        "Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

                And just like that, the god took away my friends.

                Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

                And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

                I was now trapped.

        "How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

        Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine. 

        "After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

        "Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

        You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

        "Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

        "You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

        "Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

        This world is beautiful...

        "Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

        "To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it. 

        "That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

        "There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

        To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

        Your journey has started.

[stoney-siren]

May I Have This Dance? PART 1 (Sal Fisher x Gender Nuetral!Reader)

I decided to stray a bit from my usual AOT content and give some attention to the other fandoms I’m in, like Sally Face! :)

Summary: Senior year at Nockfell High is coming to an end, which means prom night it coming up soon. Although usually Sal Fisher is not one for high school get-togethers, he’s been wanting to ask (Y/N) to the dance, though it’s not as easy as most people make it seem. He just doesn’t know how to ask them.

This is the first part, I plan on there being two parts to this fanfic, possibly three.

TW: Swearing, possible mentions of drug use, slight angst? 

“Bullshit!” Larry burst into laughter, throwing his head back as he held his stomach. His rather embarrassed friend tensed up at his reaction. “You wanna ask (Y/N) to prom?” He continued to giggle, as his fit of laughter died down.

“Can you try and be quiet? What if your mom hears.. She’s gonna never let it down!” Sal tugged at his pigtails out of nervousness, pacing around the room.

“Come on, who cares? You should ask them!” The taller boy encouraged as he shut the door to his bedroom, turning his attention back to his blue haired buddy.

If only it was that easy, Sal wanted to say, but he just knew Larry would shoot back with something irritating and snarky. So instead, Sal fell back onto one of Larrys beanbags and let out a loud and irritated sigh. His friend soon followed persuit, jumping onto the beanbag that sat beside Sals.

“I just.. Cant. Who would wanna spend prom night with somebody like me anyways?” His self deprication captured Larrys attention faster than the reaction of a mouse on a mouse trap.

“Oh don’t give me that shit Sally dude! Anybody would be lucky to have you, everyone knows it too! You’re caring and funny, quick witted and honestly just somebody everyone wants to have by their side!” Larry exlaimed, though his words fell upon deaf ears.

Sal was too busy just day dreaming about (Y/N), he admired everything about them, the way they laughed, the color of their beautiful eyes, and the pure look of joy that washes over their face whenever he lets them paint his nails or put stickers on his prosthetic.

“Sal? Sally Face! You listening?” Larry called out, finally getting Sals attention.

“Oh, shit, sorry.. No, I’m not.” Sal shook his head and grabbed ahold of his pigtails again, glancing down at the floor and sighing.

Larry hated seeing his friend like this, he was aware of how low Sals confidence could be sometimes, but he’d never dare to point it out in fear of upsetting him or making things worse. He wished he could show Sal what all their friends and himself thought of him, then maybe he’d see himself in a brighter light.

“I think you should head back upstairs and get some rest now, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, alright?” Larry gave Sal a light punch on the shoulder before standing up and walking to the door with him.

“Yeah, alright. See you tomorrow Larry Face.” With that, he shut the door behind himself and headed to the elevator, pausing at the second floor button, thinking of (Y/N) before hitting the fourth floor button.

Your POV

You laid in your bed peacefully, staring up at the ceiling as the light from your lava lamp illuminated the room. The light was your favorite color, lighting up the side of your face as your thoughts raced for the future. Usually on a Sunday night, you’d play your music so loud that Todd would come over from his apartment and tell you to keep it down, but so many things were on your mind that you just didn’t have the energy to start a little fight with Todd. 

“Maybe I’ll talk to Ash about it, she always has good advice.” You mumbled as you turned and killed your lava lamps energy. You have had a crush on Sal Fisher since Sophomore year, but you never got the chance to talk about it with him or anyone for that matter.

Letting out a final sigh, you shut your eyes and melted into a world of memories and dreams.

“(Y/N)! Get up dear! You’re gonna be late for school if you don’t!” Your mother called from outside your room, this was how you usually woke up before school. She would always pretend to be in a panic, and tell you that you’re late to try and get you out of bed sooner, though sometimes her act would be real. That’s why you always check the clock in your room to see if she was lying or not.

“It’s 7:30, mom.” You mumbled as you pushed the blankets off yourself, Todd probably wasn’t even here yet to walk with you to school. Since you two both lived on the second floor, you guys have walked to school together since the first day of Freshmen year, then Larry, Ash, and Sal came into the picture and you guys became a team.

“Still, get up!” She called, her voice sounded more further away this time. You knew she wasn’t gonna stop pestering you until you got up. So while pushing the covers off your body, you got to your feet and picked out and outfit for today.

After breakfast, you brushed your teeth just as you heard a knock at the door, and your mom open the door to greet Todd.

“Hi Mrs. (L/N), is (Y/N) ready?” His voice grew louder as you stepped closer to the door and stopped next to your mom.

“Hey Todd, I’m ready!” Giving him a smile, he returned it as he lead you down the hallway and to the elevator. He hit the button as he attempted to make conversation with you.

“So how have your grades been? Excited for the end of the year?” He turned his head to make eye contact with you.

“Yeah I guess, I’m still not completely sure what I want to do once I graduate, but I know I’ll have you and everybody else to go to for support.” You responded in a tired tone, still a bit dazed from just waking up only 10 minutes ago. Todd nodded at your response as the elevator chimed.

The two metal doors slid open to reveal Sal and Larry standing on the other side, they looked ready for school just as much as you and Todd.

“Oh hey!” Larry called, “You two look like shit!” He laughed, Todd grimaced in annoyance while you just rubbed one of your eyes, trying to wake up.

“Yeah well your eyebags got eyebags and I’m sure Sals looking more than tired under that prosthetic.” Todd shot back as he stepped into the elevator, you supposed everyone was up late studying, since Mrs. Packerton always has extremely hard ‘end of the year’ tests. The fact that she’s a cultist makes trying to focus more difficult.

You stepped into the elevator and stood between Todd and Sal, taking notice in how quiet Sal was. It wasn’t unusual for him to not say anything, but a small hello could always be heard from him whenever we saw each other.

“You okay Sally Face? You seem a bit quiet.” Larry seemed to get a kick out of comment since he snickered and nudged Sal with his elbow.

“Yeah, what’s up bud?” Larry questioned in an almost teasing tone, it confused you, but you also knew that Sal and Larry always had their own little inside jokes. Maybe something happened last night while they were studying together, probably something involving Larry’s terrible toilet humor, or maybe they just got high again and completely blew off studying.

“Nothing, just tired.” Thats when you noticed how red Sals ears were, though you didn’t think much of it since you just wanted to get to school and get these seven hours of hell over with.

School never failed to be the same as always, with Travis and his homophobic and just down right ignorant remarks, the lunch food always smelling strange (especially the bologna), and of course messing around in the hallways and during lunch time with some of your favorite people. This time at lunch though you asked to speak with Ashley in private, she and Todd were the best advice givers you knew, but you just didn’t have as much faith in Todd in keeping a secret as you did with Ash.

“Whats up, (Y/N)?” The two of you stood behind the school as you anxiously looked around for any people who could overhear you.

“I, um, I needed some advice. It’s about the prom coming up this week..” You mumbled as Ashley burst into squeals of excitement, smiling widely to you.

“Oh I’m so excited you came to me for help! So you want to ask somebody, right? Who is it? Is it Larry?” She giggled and nudged you, trying her best to get the name out.

“No! It’s Sal!” Not even sure where that little outburst came from, you lifted a hand over your mouth in shock, as Ashley’s face only stretched further into happiness as she grabbed your shoulders.

“Oh I just knew you had a crush on him! You always laugh at all his jokes, and compliment him whenever you get the chance! And if you ask me, I think he might like you too!” That suggestion made your face burn, the thought of Sal actually returning such feelings made your heart warm.

“C- Come on, don’t say that!.. But do you really think that?” Ash nodded in response as she took your hand.

“You have to ask him out! And I know just who can help us.”

[unholyhelbig]

Can you do something fluffy for Bechloe?

Read on AO3 here 

A/N: Me? Fluff? Are you sure... Did you ask the right person to do this? 

The test tube shattered before anyone could catch it. Not like their reflexes were perfect, or even adequate, but they were sharp enough to notice when the sample got too close to the edge of the counter- and cunning enough to know when it wasn’t good that glass splayed across the tile floor.

Because the truth of the matter was, they didn’t know what it was. It had been labeled by a resident the week before after a woman was wheeled into the ICU and died two days later after her symptoms reached a peak and she coded. And now… well now her blood was among the shards and the metallic scent that filled the air slowly bubbled in the room.

Beca had just taken a mouthful of sandwich and bit down hard on the mix of deli meat and mustard. She chewed slowly, meeting the eyes of the only other woman in the lab; a pediatrician from a few floors down that had been searching for a tiger topped tube.

She swallowed the bit of food on her tongue “Uh oh,”

“You shouldn’t say uh oh in medicine.” The woman glanced down at the sample that splattered the edges of her shoes. “What exactly was in that?”

The woman set down her lunch and stood from her seat before walking to the door and closing it. There was a contamination button right next to the side, and it would seal the base of the door and alert the security department to the fact that there may have been a possible quarantine situation in progress.

She pressed it and turned to face her counterpart. She had seen her in the hallways before, in passing and always found her captivating in a collective type of way. She was good with children, had to be, and had such striking eyes that were pooled with worry at this point. Beca crossed her arms over her chest.

“A blood sample from the woman they brought into the ICU a few days ago, it’s the only thing left of her.”

“Oh… the one that they couldn’t figure out in time?”

“The one that we still can’t figure out.”

Beca crossed the room and shoved the rest of her lunch into the little trashcan next to the lab table she most definitely wasn’t supposed to be eating at. Doctor Chloe Beale watched her all the while, paying most attention to the heavy sound of a deadbolt and the way the blood crept towards the drain.

She never had much trouble eating in the morgue before, and she certainly didn’t’ expect a fiery-haired peds physician to come down here rooting through the rest of the medical supplies that they shouldered off on the less desirable rooms in this place. Overcrowded, understaffed.

It was easy to stay among the dead; the rows of silver drawers and quiet tick of the sink that was broken in the corner. But now they had blood, exposed blood that she was supposed to examine for particulates because no one could figure out what had killed this woman.

“What does that mean for us?” She lifted her eyebrows, taking a tentative step from the slathered rustic color.

“Quarantine,” Beca said.

“Quarantine? I… I have to split an arm, and draw a blood sample from a two-year-old with gastrointestinal discomfort, she can’t even keep Pedialyte down and her parents are not patient.”

“A tiger on a two-year-old? Yikes. Don’t you have interns for that kind of thing?”

She scoffed and leaned against the metal counter. The wall phone started its rhythmic ring and Beca wasted no time picking it up. The security team had gotten back to them, and a dull buzz of activity started outside.

Beca was told not to touch the blood that had spilled on the floor. She was also told that it wouldn’t’ be too long before the CDC came in and checked their levels with their much fancier machines and important equipment, and quite honestly, they could have taken the sample and given the hospital a full answer before they passed it down to a coroner that had little to no knowledge on disease control.

She hung up the phone with a sigh “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Hit me with both,” Doctor Beale held her hands up in surrender “I’m a big girl.”

“Bad news is, we have to stay in here until they figure out what exactly killed that woman, and if we’re also in danger of dying from said thing…” She sounded out carefully “Good news is, most of the company I have down here don’t talk back, so I have exactly three decks of cards, a stress ball, and a lot of snacks.”

“I’m a mean card shark, I have fantastic hand-eye coordination, and I can’t fathom how you eat down here.”

Beca smiled back and rooted around in the bottom drawer among the rubber bands and the paperclips, and a wrapped snack cake that had been there since before she started. One of the interns had even scrawled the date on the plastic wrapping but she couldn’t’ recall it, not with the pediatrician staring her down like this.

She pulled out the cards and gestured for the woman to pull her stool closer. There was nothing else they could do, not really unless they wanted to pull the body of Mr. Hodges from the bottom right tray and perform the county autopsy that she was putting off until the end of the day.

“It’s not that bad, I just can’t like… look at them or anything. Really the morgue is peaceful and it’s the only place in the hospital that legally has to stay at a cool temperature. So I get great air conditioning.”

“Touché. The peds floor is like a sauna this time of year, which really doesn’t’ help fussy kids. Nothing does unless it’s a popsicle or a toy… or superheroes- you know, air condition probably would be nice.”

She was rambling, flustered by either the scent of blood or being in the basement of the hospital with a strange and small doctor who held a pack of cards between her hands, dainty and steady. Beca found it cute, endearing, really.

“How do you fair at poker?” Beca asked, sparing her.

“Mm, not well. I’ve never played.”

“Cribbage?”

“No,”

“Rummy?”

“Yeah… no”

“Go fish?”

“That’s one I know,” She clapped her hands as if getting an answer right on jeopardy. “Quite good at that one, actually. Card Shark.”

Beca blew air out of her nose and had to stifle a smile. She could see why she chose the profession she did and could see even more why children liked her. Beca tended to not have the best wrap sheet with tiny humans, in fact, some would call her bad at it all together. But she still tried, and happily dealt the two of them even piles of playing cards.

They played for a few minutes, Chloe getting an accurate pile of cards because she was shockingly crushing this game. It took a bit for her to frown and set the fan of cards down on the silver-topped table. She leaned forward, onto her palms, and let out a sigh. There was an overwhelmingly comforting scent of lemon and mint that radiated from her.

“Do you have a will?” she asked.

“I don’t,” Beca frowned “Do you have any seven’s?”

She didn’t’ get an answer, just a hard glare that sent shivers down her spine so she set her own pile down and focused her full attention on the woman in front of her. It wasn’t’ that hard to do, not in the slightest. Not with the way, Chloe’s eyes shined under the lights and the ghost of a constellation moved across her dainty nose and sprawling cheeks.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know I just… Even though this game of Go Fish is rousing, It has me thinking; if I died right now because of whatever is in that blood sample, I wouldn’t want my last memory to be of playing a children’s card game in a creepy basement.” She flushed then, glancing down “With a very beautiful hermit who practically lives in said small basement, but still.”

“No, I get it. Mortality is subjective and when you’re trapped in a room because said chance of survival just got cut in half… it’s not encouraging.” Beca leaned back in her chair and took in her surroundings.

“Right.” She nodded slowly “I work with children, I chose that specialty for a reason. It’s sadder when they die, but it’s rare that they do. Whereas you’re surrounded by it all day and- seriously I don’t know how you eat down here. Or how you’re staying so calm.”

“Doctor Beale,” She laughed, something soft and waning “someone down here opens up a test tube of smallpox or TB every other day down here. I have yet to draw up a will, and frankly… well frankly I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

The phone rang again, this time it was loud enough to startle them both, neither breaking eye contact with one another until that very moment. Beca stood and pointed to the cards “Don’t you dare cheat, Doctor Beale, I have eyes on the back of my head.”

She answered and let out a stale sigh of relief because they were going to be fine, and that was something good. But she had also been right about the CDC and their ungodly speed. This was considerably better than being trapped in the room with the old man who trained her in the first place. She hung up the phone and turned to face the woman who was lifting up the edge of her cards.

“I didn’t do it,” She put both hands in the air once more. “What’d they say?”

“You’re off the hook this time. Whatever killed her has nothing to do with bloodwork, so it’s just blood. Not poison. Which means you get away with cheating this entire time at Go Fish.”

“The whole time? I didn’t cheat the whole time.”

She stood and crossed the room to where Beca was standing. She just noticed that the woman was a bit taller than her, and again that sharp scent of mint and lemon from tea coated her throat. It was better than the blood and the chemicals of the lab.

“I’ll uh, I’ll try to be down here the next time someone opens up a vile of consumption. We can have a rematch.”

“That would be nice, I’ll keep an eye on you, though. You’ve got sticky fingers.”

Doctor Beale smiled and grasped the tiger tube that she had come in to get in the first place. She slipped it into her pocket and kept her hand there before taking a small step back away from the spilled blood and the drain that it dripped into.

“I think you’re beautiful too, by the way,” Beca said as the woman reached for the door.

“What?”

“Earlier…  you said I was beautiful.”

“Huh,” She smiled coyly, lilting her head to the side “Did I?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m very observant. You called me a hermit too, but I’ll let that one slide.”

[in-2004-fandoms-and-counting]

AU where Nico dies (don't hate me pls I'm sorry I love Nico and ship the hell out of Solangelo, this is just to allow for some dark AUs) transporting the Athena Parthenos in BoO.

(Sorry it's such a long post) Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, revered praetor and peace-loving daughter of Bellona, loses the ability to share strength. Now, when she uses her power, she saps your energy, draws on your bravery, and poisons your mind with horrific images. Nico's death has allowed suppressed traits to resurface and overwhelm all her progress since San Juan all those years ago. She picks fights. She becomes a dictator in all but name, abolishing the Senate and making War Games a lot more "realistic": weekly funerals become commonplace, words are spoken under breaths, and terror resides in the heart of every New Roman. And so, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano turns her brilliant mind and poisonous power to Gaea's aid. Gleeson Hedge doesn't seem more than a broken satyr at first glance, his smiles never sincere, his voice never loud, his bat never raised. But when he slips off into the wilderness, he does not sit quietly among the trees and reflect. He whispers into the trees' leaves, his twisted words echoing the bitterness that now consumes his being. He has been tricked too many times: Pan, forcing thousands of satyrs to lose their lives in their quest to find him when he was alive all along; Clarisse, who never tried to connect with nature or understand his own ties to the natural world, who teaches his child the game of death while Mellie watches, fading away, unable to fight back; the gods, who, in their promise of protection, conveniently ignored the nature spirits. He is bitterest about Nico's death: about all he could have done, about what the kid should have done. The glint in his eyes scares even the worst monster that Tartarus could send. But it is Gaea he turns his allegiance to. It is Gaea who promises that he will always be good enough for her. And so, Gleeson Hedge turns nature back to its true mother: Gaea. Hazel Levesque is not someone you want as an enemy. Her golden eyes, gold like the masks of the judges of the dead, seem to see everything. Her powers grow stronger, but now she is able to control them. One glance, and she can cause an entire legion to scream and writhe in agony as she manipulates the iron in their blood, twists their shining armour, forces weapons to turn on their handlers. She stops wearing normal, mortal clothes, and now she wears flowing dresses of molten gold and bronze that no spear could pierce nor hand touch. She calls on the remnants of metal in the cave in Resurrection Bay to rise, and rise they do, twisting and weaving together at her command to form a cathedral-like vault with a solid Stygian iron throne. At the front of her temple lies a chasm from which her first creation arises, complete and healed, at last. Alcyoneus clambers out of the pit, back with his mother's life and Hazel's burning desire for destruction. And so, after seventy years, Hazel Levesque joins forces with Gaea of her own free will. Frank Zhang's arrows are no longer aimed at Tartarus's monsters, but at the people he once considered friends. The ruins of the Zhang family mansion become a shrine to Gaea, the ancient walls falling in blissful happiness into the Earth Mother's embrace. Frank returns often with fresh skulls, unfailingly whole - his arrow pierces cleanly through the eye every time. His piece of firewood safe in Gaea's belly, protected where no flame could reach, he is unstoppable. His shapeshifting causes unforseen problems with the allies' plans, it's very hard to plan how to fight a lion when he could turn into a swarm of bees at any moment. He is the ultimate spy, a literal fly on the wall, and for once, he feels needed. He feels worth something. He feels as though he is good enough, something the gods could never give. All the gods ever did for Frank, he realises bitterly, is take. His mother. His grandmother. His self-confidence. His chance for a stable, loving family. Nico. And so, Frank Zhang finds a different kind of family, one that will not let him down, in Gaea. Piper McLean never wanted to be a tragic love story; that was purely for her mother's entertainment. She

cuts her hair short. She kills Gaea's enemies on sight. Her charmspeak forces even her old family, Camp Half-Blood, to turn against each other, brother against brother, sister against sister, until bodies litter the strawberry fields and the Big House crumbles to smouldering ashes. The gods have her no love. Their boundaries mean nothing to her any more. Her love extends to her favourite mother, her boyfriend, the rest of the Seven, Grover, Reyna and Hedge. Beyond that, it is poison. Gaea takes her hands, looks into her eyes, and tells Piper that she is more than the spawn of an unfaithful, air-headed immortal, more than the damsel in distress. She tells Piper that she is who she decides to be. And Piper agrees. Gaea gives her the opportunity to be out of others' shadows. Piper McLean takes the chance and joins with Gaea, her charmspeak almost her most dangerous feature, second only to her unbridled wrath when Nico's death is mentioned.

Jason Grace owes fealty to only one eternal goddess now. He scours the Underworld with Hazel and Frank, relentless like the wolves he was brought up with. He knows no bounds, his destruction barely controllable by even Piper and her charmspeak. He has obliterated entire cities, counties, even an entire nation. He feels no regret, no remorse, no nagging guilt. He seeks out and electrocutes homophobes as his powers grow in complexity, along with his ability to control them. No matter how much they scream, the same two words shoot from Jason's scarred lips like the lightning bolts he commands: for Nico. As the darkness inside him grows, the son of Jupiter advances on Olympus, eyes and hands blazing, to destroy his father, as one of Gaea's allies, as one of Gaea's found children. Jason Grace vows by Nico's soul and Gaea's love to destroy the gods who shamelessly abandoned them.

Percy Jackson has been close to the darkness before. As just one examole, he's controlled poison to choke the goddess of misery at the edge of Chaos. But now, Annabeth's words at the time - some things aren't meant to be controlled - strike differently. Percy doesn't follow rules any more. That brooding, troublemaking face now alludes to his new form: gone is the class clown, here is something more akin to a devil. Like Hazel, he has made hundreds of people and monsters shriek in pain as he controls their blood, contorting their bodies into unnatural forms and snapping necks with a mere snap of his fingers. If Nico's death is mentioned around the pair of them - Hazel and Percy - both turn on the individual, eyes smouldering with the deceitfully cool ashes of the fire of grief, and slowly unleash their wrath. Percy cannot be controlled. He wants revenge. Part of him wishes he had never given his mother the head of Medusa to kill Smelly Gabe; it tore him to pieces when he made the fluid in her head seep out of her eyes. But she wouldn't stop begging him to leave Gaea. She had to go. She was no longer loving him as he knew he deserved. Now, Percy Jackson takes his support from the mother he should have accepted long ago: Gaea.

Annabeth Chase did not accept powers from her new mother, her better mother. She chose to use her mind as her weapon and Gaea respected that. Gaea gave her the resources she needed to wreak havoc on mortals and immortals alike. Now, instead of studying for a stupid internship in a misogynistic, capitalist society, Annabeth unleashes her fury, her grief, her mind on the world. The gods deserve to pay for what happened to Nico. The demigods need to feel her grief. The mortals started this stupid cycle of overwork and inadequate pay. Annabeth is ready to work with the mother that respects her, that loves her, that nurtures her as she deserves. And work she does. Plan after plan is developed, improved, redrafted, mocked up, redeveloped, and finally executed with clinical precision. Her mind becomes what her enemies most fear, even above her reputation: first child of Athena in millennia to reach Arachne, retriever of the Athena Parthenos, survivor of Tartarus. And she laughs, laughs in a maniacal way that makes you want to take a step back as she strides towards you, grey eyes alight with an unnatural glint as you realise that she knows everything about you and she knows how this will end. She will not let herself or her friends die. She refuses to let another situation like Nico's death happen again. So, Annabeth Chase takes Gaea's resources and turns them into a mass genocide, executed with her new mother's blessing.

Grover Underwood leads the nature spirits now. He commands dryads to extend their unstoppable tendrils through the paths that Gaea forms for them, deep in the earth, then sending them exploding through the surface and reclaiming all that was torn from them under the pretence of friendship. His empathy link with Percy allows him some degree of control, both over the son of Poseidon and over naiads. Grover is betrayed and bitterly disappointed in Pan, in the gods, in demigods, in mortals, in Nico. And so, he turns nature back home with Gleeson Hedge. The hauntingly beautiful whistling of his pipes lures demigods, mortals, even gods to their doom. Apollo is the first to fall, trapped by the music of the satyr whose horns now make him seem diabolical as he dances in the flames. Grover Underwood finds his roots in Gaea and his revenge in destruction.

Leo Valdez wants to burn the world to ashes. There's not a moment he's not on fire, his hair smouldering, his skin aglow. At his feet lies Hera, trussed up like a rodeo calf, bound by the power of the guardian Leo knows he deserved as a child. There is no Piper with her charmspeak to free the ex-queen; at least, Piper is by Leo's side as he blasts her with his searing flames. There's a smile on Leo's face that rivals even Annabeth's as he torches cities, razes acres and lights up the sky with plumes of smoke and columns of fire. His reasoning feels etched into his heart: the gods let Nico die. The gods let us down one time too many. And so he lets the flames go. Gaea stands behind him, her hand on his shoulder, proud and respectful. She knows that he secretly enjoyed starting the war with New Rome. He has fire powers; it's only natural, and that Octavian is enough to drive anyone mad. So, Leo Valdez finally makes his peace with Gaea.

Will Solace goes out like a light as the news of his beloved's death is announced. He lies, broken and silent, in Gaea's arms, tears streaming down his face. He stirs only for Nico's name, and his eyes turn slowly to whoever dared say it. He reaches out an arm, eyes turning black, leaching all the colour from the surroundings as his whisper echoes: there is no hope. Behind him stands Gaea, a tear of her own on her earthen cheek. She feels his pain, raw and fresh. But she takes some of it onto herself. Will Solace shares his grief with Gaea now.

And so they stand, eyes alight and expressions dark and triumphant, by the side of the goddess who did not want to let Nico die.

Gaea smiles.

[bluegarners]

For the bingo card, I'd like to request the "tortured for information" square with Dick being the one who's tortured (sorry Dick alskjda). You can include any other batfam member(s) that you want, I'm not picky 😁.

Oooo, that’s a good one! I was super excited to see your request, I hope this does the prompt right~ @hood-ex

Tortured for Information

The room they’re being contained in is small, perhaps eight foot by eight, and the ceiling barely crests at seven. It’s cramped and hot, the stone bricks that surround them leaving no room for air ventilation or any sort of moisture except their own sweat. They know there’s a door somewhere off to the right, but the enclosing darkness leaves most of it to the imagination. Pitch black inks the area, not a single source of light filtering through its void. They only know there’s a door in the darkness because there used to be four of them where three now sit in anticipation. A few inches rest between each of the three remaining figures, all trying their best to breathe through the heat and not inhale the stench of their own gross fluids.

Time is hard to tell in the dark, minds so used to constant movement that stillness is unexpected and dangerous. What they do know is that, before there were just three, they awoke one by one, feeling out for one another in the darkness, checking supplies (they had none), and trying their best to figure out how to escape. The door was the obvious solution at first, the largest of them using his shoulder as a battering ram against the heavy wood. There’s no give, no weakness, and the eldest stops the biggest before there’s unnecessary hurt inflicted. There are no hinges or door knobs or anything obvious through the touch of careful fingers, so other than hopelessly banging against the door, there’s no way to open it.

All of them were still on the cusp of disoriented when they realized there’s no air flow and that, if they’re as trapped as they believe themselves to be, conserving oxygen was the next priority after a failed escape. Suggestions of being underground were thrown around, all failing to recall how they ended up in the small room in the first place or who took them. The underground theory is plausible, being that there’s no light, but the sweltering heat doesn’t match the coolness of deep earth. Being in a basement was also likely, but seeing as their prison isn’t much of a room for a house or other building also leaves the hypothesis flimsy. They compared notes from what they could remember.

“Patrol,” Tim started, a small voice in the black, “in the West portion of Gotham. I was alone though.”

“Spoiler accompanied me in the South,” Damian said.

“Last I remembered, I was in the Cave with B,” Dick chimed in. “We were going over logs. Hood?”

“Drunk,” was the muttered reply. “Still nursing a headache actually so if you guys could shut up and think, that’d be great.”

They’re still on rickety terms with the estranged brother. Things have gotten better over the years, but the progress only graduated from ‘shoot on sight’ to ‘stay the hell away’. Progress is progress though. They’re getting there, slowly, and one day Alfred will coax him into a Manor dinner.

Silence fell on them, more out of nothing else to say rather than to comply with the command, and the only sound was their breaths filtering through the stagnant air. The heat isn’t unbearable. No, far from it, they’ve all endured worse, but the closeness of their bodies provided little relief. There’s hardly enough room to stand and take a few steps before accidentally smashing someone’s hand and soon enough, agitation was brewing. Britsling words, huffs, tuts, an occasional snap; none of them did well in dark, small, and claustrophobic situations.

The hard part about residing in shadow is that one cannot tell when eyes are open or closed, seeing darkness or dreaming in black. When Jason awakes for the second time, a fierce pounding building behind his ears, he realizes that someone is missing. Someone is gone from their eight by eight confinement. A stutter of breath is absent among the shallow patterns. His fingers fumble loosely against the hard flooring, rough in texture and covered in cracks and pebbles, until he finds a body.

He shakes them. “Wake up. Wake up now.”

It’s Damian. He’s up and alert in an instant, grasping at Jason’s wrist in a move meant to harm the older man. It merely pinches him. “What’s going on?” the boy hisses, grip frightfully tight.

Jason ignores him. Feels around for another body. His hand barely moves a foot before he feels something loose and soft. He tugs at it and a startled yell answers. “What the hell?” Tim growls, low enough to be a whisper but quick enough to be panicked.

A snake of oil and water falls into his stomach as Jason confirms it. It twists around in his gut even as he crawls over to where he thinks the door is, slamming a fist into it over and over again as he feels his own panic settle coolly into his feet. They took him. Dick is gone.

That was, in their best estimate, an hour ago. Now they all sit within reaching distance, careful to watch for the signs of induced slumber, periodically calling out to reassure one another. Tim thinks it was gas. Damian thinks drugs. Jason doesn’t know what to think, just that it happened and now Nightwing is gone. He does not voice his more sinister thoughts aloud on what happened to the man in blue, what might be happening right now, but he does not console the younger vigilantes. Order would dictate that it was now his job to look after them, as the second eldest, but he’s been on his own for years and doesn’t know how to.

Dick is gone and they can only sit and wait.

~oOo~

The vapor takes him last. He’s wedged himself into a corner, straining his eyes to make out even an outline of his brothers, when he hears a body slump to the floor, followed by two after. The noise is alarming because, well, those were bodies hitting the stone floor, his brothers, and Dick prepares himself for something as he holds his breath, clasping a hand over his nose.

The door suddenly opens and white light pours into the small room like an ocean hell bent on taking everything with it. It washes over everything, and for a moment, Dick is completely blinded and overwhelmed with the sudden contrast. Just as quickly as the light burst in, there are hands scraping and clawing against his shoulders and Dick is tempted to shout, but the vapors have finally reached his lungs and he feels the lull of sleep drag at his insides until his eyes weigh a thousand pounds and he is forced to close them.

When he blinks them open, he has to bite back a scream because there’s a masked face in front of him, a ghastly brown mask with gaping holes that peer into the depths. Dick is more than a little startled but finds it within himself to evaluate. His mask is still firmly in place, he can feel the spirit gum sucking at his skin, and he is still fully garbed in his Nightwing suit. A quick glance is easy enough to prove he is no longer in that dark prison he and his brothers had been held in, and another glance confirms that he is the only one out.

His brothers are still trapped.

He, too, is trapped, secured against what feels like a metal cot with leather and metal chains and straps tying his feet and arms to the corners of the cot. The masked face moves away from him, decidedly once it's confirmed he is in fact awake, and retreats back. Dick strains to see where they go but they disappear out his peripherals and is instead replaced with the sight of an old woman, gray, almost silver, hair falling in front of her eyes. There’s bright pink lipstick on her mouth, a dull blue shimmer shade smearing her eyelids, and a coral pink blush struggling to lift up the saggy flesh in what might be an attempt at youth. She smiles down at him. Her teeth are plastic.

“Good evening, Nightwing,” she simpers, reaching out a gnarled hand to stroke at his face. “Did you sleep well?”

Dick says nothing, trying to piece together the woman’s motives. He doesn’t recognize her. She’s new. But old. Perhaps an underground leader then. The masked person from earlier would indicate some sort of dramatic cult. Dick doesn’t know if the concealment of their identity means they intend to release him later, or if the showing of the old woman’s face is a move of power, as if to say that they have the means to keep him stationary and have little fear in doing so. The woman could be anyone from a simple grandmother to an “immortal” mortal, striving for some elixir of youth like the League of Assassins. Really, this could be anything. They, whoever it was that took Dick and his brothers, were clearly very capable.

Just as Dick begins to consider the idea of magic being involved, the old woman snaps her fingers and the wooden face from earlier reappears. The blow is quick, a metal stick coming down to strike at his abdomen, and Dick has little time to brace as metal meets his thin flesh and pain lights a fire inside his stomach. He bites back a scream.

“Now, you listen here young man,” the woman berates, a shaking finger pointing accusingly at him. “When you are asked a question, you answer. Where are your manners?”

Dick is too busy catching his breath to form a coherent response, and the woman snaps her fingers again, another blow striking at his stomach again. Dick relaxes as fully as he can despite the panic that’s quickly taking hold of his limbs, and the metal collides with his side this time with bruising force against one of his kidneys. A huff of hurt escapes his mouth and Dick instinctually begins to curl up into himself, only stopped by the straps that hold him down.

“Do you understand?” the old woman asks, raising her hand threateningly as if to snap again.

“Yes,” Dick wheezes out, breathing through the pain. “Yes, I get it.”

She drops her hand, a pleased and rather pleasant smile marring her face once more. “Good. Lovely. I’m sure you have many questions, Nightwing, but I am not obliged to answer any. However, I want you to answer some questions for me. How does that sound?”

Dick isn’t sure if a head nod is enough to placate her inquiry, so he manages another verbal affirmation.

“Excellent,” the old woman crows. “I’ll begin then. Oh drat, I almost forgot. You arrived with your brothers, yes?”

Dick feels the blood in his face drain. She notices.

“Oh, not to worry!” she reassures, a wrinkled hand coming up to pat his cheek. “No harm will come to them. I would never hurt a child, Nightwing, no sir. Family is very important after all. That’s why you’re here! So, to make sure that you answer truthfully, I would like to propose a bargain.”

“Bargain?” Dick questions. His side winces, still struggling to adapt to the injuries. He’ll have to deal with it later. Later.

“Quite so,” the woman agrees. “If you answer my questions with complete honesty, and I mean that young man, I will grant a few privileges to your brothers. I don’t like shutting them away in their room, but I know otherwise they wouldn’t behave. You can help them though. Here, I’ll show you.”

A screen flickers to life above his head, a monitor illuminating the ceiling.

“If you answer my question, I will turn on one light for them,” the woman says, shakily motioning to the pitch black screen. “That is how this will work. I will tell you what privileges can be earned for your brothers, and then ask you a question. Answering truthfully is the only way to give them those rewards though. Do you understand?”

“And if I don’t?” Dick questions back, the situation finally settling into his head. Rule number something that Bruce had always instilled in him was to never bargain with your captor, especially when others were involved. Innocents.

“Then I snap my fingers,” the woman responds coldly, “and Burtrum will do his best to force the truth out of you.”

Burtrum. The hulking figure in the wooden mask. Burtrum. Okay. Okay. Not the weirdest but- okay, fine. Burtrum.

“We’ll start easy, just so you understand that I am truthful in my promises. Are you ready, Nightwing?”

He can say no. He can say no and get beaten for it, but if he says no, then there’s the chance that his brothers will suffer for it. The old woman promised not to hurt them, she said she wouldn’t hurt children, but he can’t take anything she says as absolute fact. If he says yes, that he’s willing to answer her, there’s no telling what kind of questions she might want to pry an answer for out of him. She could ask about anything: identities, the Justice League, the Titans, Batman, codes, locations, anything. And if he doesn’t answer the way she wants, he’ll get beaten for it. Tortured, more like it, and he really doesn’t want to put himself through that if he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t know how you were raised, but I don’t accept silence as an answer. You will use your words.”

Tell that to Bruce, Dick thinks ruefully, mulling over his options once again. “Fine,” he settles on, “I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Burtrum, do please fetch me a chair. My knees are brittle and it’s cold in here.”

The massive figure of Burtrum, dear lord that sounds like a name Alfred would know somehow, lumbers away and Dick, admittedly, feels a little tension ease out of him now that the immediate threat is gone. Well, the immediate physical threat.

“Now, I promised you that I would turn a light on for your brothers. I understand that children can be afraid of the dark, and it is not my intention to frighten them like this. So, tell me, Nightwing, what is your favorite color?”

“My favorite color?” he repeats back dumbly.

“Yes, indeed. Answer that and I will lighten the room. It’s not a trick question. Everyone’s got a favorite color.”

Dick can’t think of how his favorite color might be used against someone, and he certainly doesn’t use it as his own password or anything, so he says, “I like blue.”

The old woman laughs, a vibrant blue fingernail tapping against the emblem spread across his chest. “I do as well,” she titters excitedly. “Lapis is such a beautiful color, wouldn’t you agree? Such a darling, delicate shade.”

Dick doesn’t know if it’s a question he actually has to answer, it seems rhetorical, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. The fewer bruises, the better as always. “Yeah, it’s-”

“As promised,” the old woman interrupts, talking over him, “I will turn on the light. I am an honest person, Nightwing, so I hope this show of good faith will inspire you.”

Immediately, Dick’s eyes snap to the screen above him, holding his breath in anticipation as he stares into the darkness. A few seconds later and a calm yellow washes over the dark screen, the slumped figures of his brothers finally in view. It appears to be a live feed, something Dick had originally been worried about, but as he sees Jason stand up at the new lightness and Tim’s head whipping around in astonishment, Dick feels his heart sigh.

Burtrum re-enters the room, rumbling with a newer heaviness in his arms as he carries a padded wooden chair. He gently places it onto the ground and the old woman sinks into it with a gratefulness that reminds Dick that this is literally an old woman he’s dealing with. Not some crime lord, not some super villain, not some drugged out meta human. She is, quite literally, just an eighty something year old lady with a singular, large butler like henchman at her service. It all feels quite ridiculous now that he thinks about it, and for a moment, Dick wonders if he’s hallucinating or dreaming.

The smarting ache in his stomach reminds him that, no, neither of those things are true and this is truly a dangerous situation with so many unknown variables. He needs to be careful. Needs to be smart about things.

“Now that we have established my honesty, it is time to establish yours. Let’s begin, shall we?”

~oOo~

The darkness retreats suddenly and unexpectedly. Damian does not jolt, any Robin to a respectable Batman never jolts, but he will admit the sudden brightness leaves him feeling antsy. The lights meant a few things. One, someone was watching them. Two, the room was far more complex than a few bricks and an immovable door. Three, something was going to happen soon with this new development or something already did.

Todd is swearing left and right, making for the door again. Drake is peering around the room skeptically, angling his head this way and that in an attempt to understand the new light sources. And he? Damian is staring a hole into the rough ground, thinking hard. About what, he can’t quite put to words, but somehow, the light does not comfort him. It only reassures him that there was something, rather someone, crucial missing from this entire situation, the darkness having hidden that blatant fact beforehand.

The illumination does not heat the room any further than it already feels, but Damian supposes time will change that. By itself, even before the brightness, the small prison was near sweltering and Damian could feel the back of his suit becoming soaked in his own sweat. Perhaps three hours, maybe a bit more, has passed since the first time they awoke to be trapped in this confinement. Dehydration was inevitable. Escape, by all means, was still a quandary that would not be answered for the foreseeable future. There was no telling if anyone was looking for them currently, no way to communicate a location with all of their materials stripped from their persons, and being trapped inside such a tiny space with two of his least favorite people in the world only worsened that fact.

To top it all off, Richard was still gone. Still missing. Captured. Elsewhere.

The heat must be making him light headed because suddenly his neck feels too weak to support his thoughts. He rests his face in between his knees and continues to think. There is little else to do.

~oOo~

“I have a list of necessities here. Every question you answer is one of them given to your brothers. When I have run through the entire list, of which there are only three elements, I will have Burtrum deliver the items you answered to. Is that clear, Nightwing?”

It’s insane is what it is, is all Dick can think, but his voice says otherwise. “Crystal.”

“We’ll start with hygiene. How often do you patrol in Bludhaven?”

“Whenever I have time to.”

The old woman frowns and taps two fingers against the metal cot. Burtrum and his dark brown mask loom forward and Dick can feel hands rest against his ankles. Dick has the sudden realization that his boots are gone. He has nothing but thick socks and a few band-aids on his feet.

“Do not be coy, young man,” the woman carps. “Answer properly. A schedule will do.”

Will giving away specific days be too much? Yes, likely so. Though it’s true he patrols whenever he has time to, those are for extra patrols when he has the opportunity to do so with a friend or fellow vigilante. Every second month on the third Tuesday, he patrols in Gotham with Batman and Robin. On a ‘regular’ schedule, he takes every chance he can get to go out on the streets of Bludhaven. Even then, if someone watches closely enough, he does have a pattern in the how/when/where he patrols. It’s a bit too far reaching to truly connect dots, but he can’t be sure. He also had to consider that there was hygiene on the line, whatever that meant. It could be a bathroom, a shower, medical supplies, medication. It could be many things, so was he willing to pass over that for his brothers? No, not truly, but he doesn’t really know how far he can push vagueness in order to appease the lady.

He’s taking too long. The grip around his ankles is tightening and though he’s almost sure Burtrum isn’t a meta-human, he certainly looks strong enough to do some serious damage.

“I don’t have a schedule but-”

The twists are sudden, efficient and ruthless, and the sickening snap that echoes in Dick’s ears takes a moment to register. Adrenaline keeps his brain from processing the sight of both of his feet and the tops of his toes pointing straight at him, but the bulge that shines through his socks is enough to jerk his thoughts to a screeching halt. Then the pain comes. It’s blinding. Bones grinding against each other, snapped unnaturally and grating against his muscles, creating a euphoria of fire and cold, cold ice that spreads to the very tips of his toenails. On instinct, he flails and immediately, immensely, regrets it as tears spring into his eyes and his lips contort in a half snarl, half gag of anguish.

“Your brothers have lost toilet privileges,” the old woman mutters unkindly, dull eyes unfeeling for his pain, “and Burtrum has done exactly as I warned. You are a selfish man, Nightwing. Selfish and unwise. I pray this has been a lesson for you on the consequences of being dishonest.”

Dick can hardly hear her over the roar of blood in his ears, heart beating faster and faster as the pain only continues to torment him. It’s crazy, he knows he can’t actually feel the bones touching one another, it’s not something he’s aware of on a daily basis, but right now it feels like his bones are singing and his nerves are their opera house. A raging cacophony of violence and crackling misery. He sucks in a breath. Slowly pushes it out. Repeats. In. Out. In. Out.

“Let’s try again. Water, three twelve ounce bottles. Do you work with the BPD often?”

Even in his agony induced haze, Dick understands that this is something he must answer. Water is important, essential, and he doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be captured here. The offer of water is much too tempting to pass up and he knows that the room the others are cornered in is already hot. Dehydration would take hold of them soon and he only has the flimsy word of his captor that his brothers will not be harmed. He has to have some trust that the bottles of water will remain un-tampered with.

“No,” he manages, words thick like sludge on his tongue, “not officially. Sometimes, I’ll help them with drug factions or serial killers.” Dick closes his eyes and breathes deeply again. Speaking is difficult when he wants to bite through his lip to distract himself from his broken bones. “I don’t have a working relationship like Batman does with the GCPD.”

The old woman hums, clapping her hands together. “I am happy you’ve come to your senses. Your honesty has earned your brothers some water.”

She reaches out to brush some of the sweat slicked strands of hair from his face, cooing in an odd motherly way. He hates the tenderness in her touch, as if she hadn’t just ordered someone to break his ankles. This woman wasn’t just dangerous, she was psychotic. Unpredictable. To further worsen a bad situation, he still can’t figure out what the purpose in all of this was. What the ultimate goal is. She seems interested in him, Nightwing, rather than his secret identity. She’s neglected to pry about Batman, of which all villains do when they’ve got a bird in their grasps, and the soothing motions of her hands juxtapose her violence.

Dick’s head is spinning from it all, the fire licking at his feet worsening the vertigo. He doesn’t understand anything at all and the circulation in his legs is thrumming in the worst way. His feet will turn blue soon, but before that, the flesh will balloon into something almost unrecognizable with the swelling that is sure to come. How long does it take for ankles to heal? Two months? Three? That’s ignoring physical therapy and if all goes according to plan. The breaks look bad, not exactly clean, and Dick is scaring himself with the possibility of never walking properly again.

“Let’s proceed with the final item on the necessities list. Three granola bars, all high in calorie. A real treat with chocolate chips, ho ho. I know children just love sweet things.”

He’s tempted to drown her out, just focus solely on the monitor still hanging over his head and watch his brothers, but once again he evaluates that food is indeed essential too and that he still doesn’t know when rescue or escape will be. His best estimate on timing is that they’ve been captured for the better part of four, maybe five hours. Possibly more. They’re nearing the timing in which someone will notice all four of them gone. Help will come soon, but he’s got to compensate for that large if in all of this. If help arrives. If they escape. Those snacks could end up being a saving grace depending on all of those ifs.

“What do you know about the Anaconda Killer?”

The moniker is familiar. An early 2000s serial killer in Bludhaven that strangled his victims after kidnapping and holding them for a week. Most of his victims were young girls, high-schoolers and undergraduates in college, and all were blonde with blue eyes. The killer was never caught and it haunts the BPD as their first major cold case, a total of seven known victims staining the profiles.

He tells her as much, paraphrasing, and she frowns. For a moment, Dick fears that he wasn’t specific enough despite his little knowledge on the subject. His eyes dart to Burtrum, still stationary at his feet and mask staring at nothing and everything, and Dick waits for confirmation as the old woman closes her eyes.

“You worked on the case?” she asks slowly, hands crawling up to rest lightly against the metal cot. “You know of the victims?”

“Yes,” he answers, careful to keep his tone steady. A jolt of doubt strikes through him though as the old woman’s eyes snap open, a feverish excitement taking hold of her.

“Oh that’s good,” she whispers. “Very, very good.”

~oOo~

They pass out for the third time.

Knocked out is probably the more correct term, but Tim can’t find it within himself to actually care because that was the third fucking time. He can’t figure out how they do it. He’s almost completely sure it’s some sort of gas agent that leaks in through the bricks, but he can’t find any gaps or seams where the gas would invade from. He’s looked, double checked, and he can’t find any discrepancies between the bricks and stones. It’s driving him crazy because if it’s that easy to take them out, why hasn’t anything been done to them yet?

And furthermore, why leave water and food in its place?

He’s holding one of the bottled waters in his hands, inspecting the seal to make absolutely certain it hasn’t been opened. Tim knows there are other ways to tamper with water other than actually unscrewing the cap, but honestly he feels a little desperate for a bit of relief for his thirst. He’s sweat through his uniform, having unclasped his cape about an hour into their confinement. He’s sure his face is a little clammy looking and breathing through his nose feels like he’s sucking in sand, so the water was like some sort of hallucination when he first saw it. The others weren’t sure what to make of it at first either, Damian suspicious that it was poisoned and Jason not really giving a fuck.

Tim’s thirst is winning over his skepticism though, the more he turns the bottle around in his hands, the more appealing the slosh of water looks. “They wouldn’t give this to us just to poison us,” he suggests, trying to reason his way into feeling less guilty about drinking. “It just wouldn’t make sense. Why give us drugged food and water when they’ve already shown they can do that with the air? It would be-”

“Holy shit, just shut up and drink it,” Jason mutters, uncapping his own bottle and taking a large swig. Both of the younger boys turn to him with large eyes, clearly watching to see if there are any immediate, negative side effects. Jason will admit he’s a little nervous to find out as well but his defiance on the subject merely just makes him take another sip.

Ten minutes go by and Tim’s tongue is feeling tacky and borderline dry. He gives in and drinks half of the bottle, swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth. It’s a huge relief.

“Imbeciles,” Damian says, watching with ill-concealed fascination and disgust. “You are both foolish to accept that from the enemy.”

“Maybe,” Jason tosses back, lying down. His feet almost touch the other side. “Or maybe not. It could be from Nightwing.”

Damian's head snaps up. “What do you mean by that?”

Jason hums. “Well he was taken, what, a few hours ago?”

“Four.”

“Yeah? Huh, no shit. Either way, that leaves time for negotiations. A deal. Goldie just loves making deals.”

“You’re implying that Nightwing is speaking with the enemy about our treatment?” Damian says slowly.

“Speaking, screaming, dying, who knows. But sure. He’s talking to them about our treatment.”

Tim throws a small glare to Jason’s slouched form, irritated that he’s being so casual in such a potentially dangerous situation. A small part is also starting to get more worried though because the older man does make a point. Dick is probably speaking with their captors but it’s a far reach to say it’s voluntary. There’s about a seventy-three percent chance Dick is being tortured at the moment, tortured for information or otherwise. In terms of stubbornness and resistance to torture, Dick was only second to Bruce when it came to that sort of thing, be it threat of pain or mental anguish. His eldest brother has a hard head and an even tougher mindset, but his weak spot is his heart.

If Tim and the others were being used as bargaining chips, well, there wasn’t much Dick wouldn’t agree to. Suddenly, the bottle of water doesn’t feel so much like relief as it does guilt.

~oOo~

“We’re moving on from necessities,” the old woman proclaims, anticipation now tainting her voice. “I have no intention of keeping you and your brothers here forever; children should be allowed to frolic and such. So, Nightwing, this is your chance to earn them their freedom.”

He’s never been offered something like this before. Typically, the go-to style of his torturers always involved a threat of ‘You tell me what I wanna know and I won’t kill you and your loved ones,’ or ‘You’ll eventually talk if I keep you here long enough,’. Dick can’t remember a time where he’s been offered his freedom in exchange for information. It’s just not how these things work.

“I am willing to give your brothers their supplies back as a first exchange, excluding their weapons of course. Such a prize, however, can only be earned through truth and if you lie, I will know and your punishment for lying will be severe. I do not like hurting you, you know,” the woman simpers, “but I will order Burtrum to do so. This is very important to me. Do you understand?”

The stakes are climbing higher and higher with each minute that ticks by. Dick can’t really feel his feet much, only if he chooses to think about it or if he attempts to move anything below the knee, and the pulsating in his stomach isn’t a fantastic sign. He hadn’t originally thought the blows were enough to cause actual harm, maybe a few dark, dark bruises to show for them, but the sharp pin pricks in his side where he had been struck in the kidney doesn’t feel right. Internal bleeding is something that crosses his mind, the symptoms of numbness and a faint migraine building, but Dick forces himself to categorize and shelve the pain. Now isn’t the time. It’s really not the time.

“Yes,” he says stiffly, feeling his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth. “I understand.”

“Splendid. Who is the Anaconda Killer?”

And wow, that’s a loaded question to start off the promise of liberty with. “The BPD never caught-”

“I don’t care,” the woman snaps, leaning forward. Her breath smells like old soup. “Tell me who the killer is.”

Dick swallows. Takes a breath and releases it. Eyes Burtrum, who is still hovering by his feet. Trails his eyes back to bright lipstick and shimmer eye shadow.

“Kennedy Giavich,” Dick says, unsure if he really should be giving out the name of a civilian that has never been charged. “My investigations pointed to him being the killer but there wasn’t any conclusive evidence.”

The old woman taps a fingernail against the cot and Burtrum moves forward, placing a single meaty hand on top of Dick’s mangled feet. Slowly, languidly, the man pushes against the soles of his feet and Dick sucks in a quick breath, screwing his eyes shut. The pain, like the first time, is laced with fire and ice and Dick is starting to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to have nerve damage if this keeps up. Never mind having to stay off his feet for a couple months, he’s never going to have proper feeling in his toes again.

“Who is Kennedy Giavich?” the old woman presses, leering further into Dick’s face.

In. Out. In. Out.

The woman taps her finger again and the pressure releases, the small scream Dick had been holding back dissipating as well. “Who is Kennedy?” she repeats.

“H-He’s a security guard,” Dick manages to wheeze out, still trying to catch his breath. “Works at a communal library. It’s where he sought out his victims. He, mgh, quit last year though. Brown hair, brown eyes, large build.”

“What else?”

“I tailed him for a couple months but he didn’t have any new victims. He lives near the library he worked at and hasn’t gotten another job since. That’s all I know.”

The old woman eyes him, pressing her lips together in what might be a scowl. She regards Dick with an air of suspicion, as if she could somehow read his mind to discern if he was telling the truth or not. He is, seeing as he really hasn’t done much follow up on Giavich in the past few months. A mistake, possibly, on his part but a cold case is cold, and Dick leaves it at that. Especially when there are more active and pressing things to attend to with the little time he has.

Reaching a decision, she raises a wrinkled hand and waves it behind her, signaling Burtrum to leave the room. Dick’s eyes travel upwards to the screen again, watching with a sick feeling in his stomach as one by one his brothers succumb to whatever invisible agent leaks into their small room. A minute later, the thick wooden door creaks open slightly, Burtrum out of sight of the ceiling camera, and a few utility belts are thrown in. The door shuts quickly, presumably some sort of locking mechanism closing it completely, and Dick abruptly doesn’t feel as bad giving away a supposedly innocent civilian’s name. Hopefully, with their tech back, his brothers will find away to escape and get out of whatever hole they’ve been trapped in.

“You said that he hasn’t taken any victims in recent times,” the old woman says quietly, hands folded into her lap. “That he’s been inactive?”

Dick nods. The sick in his stomach is starting to roll around a bit more violently, nausea taking hold. Burtrum re-enters the room holding something in his left hand, but Dick can’t tell what it is, the large figure just out of his peripheral vision. He swallows at the silence that follows his entrance, the air thick with tension. Dick holds his breath.

The old woman snaps her fingers and Burtrum descends upon him.

The blows are rapid and without prejudice, slamming into every available surface that isn’t obstructed by the straps that hold him down. It’s so fast, so savage, that Dick can’t follow the movements and prepare accordingly, the flash of a weapon and it’s strike zone too much for his pain muddled mind to physically follow. One barely glances against his feet but even that is enough to send his brain into a shock, white fire lacing up his legs and to the tip of his nose. It’s bruising, crushing force, each impact enough to completely paralyze him for a few precious milliseconds. His arms are jerking in their restraints, knees bumping against each other on reflex, and there might be a sound escaping his jaw each time a blow connects, but he can’t be sure because everything is happening much too fast and his lungs are gasping for air that escapes him.

All the while, as Burtrum continues to pummel him and break his bones and bleed him dry, the old woman is muttering, gazing at the beat-down with angered, uninterested eyes and a frown cold enough to freeze the sun.

It’s all Dick can do but try and relax, there’s no point in defending himself like this, but his instincts are going hay-wire. He wants to clench and retaliate, snatch the weapon out of those ruthless hands, but Dick’s own hands are secured tightly. He can feel the marks pulling at the skin of his wrists, indenting and leaving bright red and raw flesh behind in his frenzy. Desperately, his eyes once again travel to the screen above him, his brothers’ forms still and un-moving. The sight brings little comfort, a small and irrational portion of his head screaming that they’re dead, that the old woman killed them, that Dick killed them, that he’s going to die to-

The beating stops. The old woman has a frail hand resting against Burtrum’s huge arm. She’s staring right at him.

“That was unfair of me,” she says. “I should have warned you again.”

Blood dribbles past his lips, saliva and bile sliding out as well and leaking onto the cool metal.

“I told you at the start that I wouldn’t tolerate lies.”

Something shifts inside Dick’s chest. He thinks a rib might’ve been broken. Or maybe that’s his clavicle. Sternum. Something. It hurts. It hurts.

“That Burtrum would extract the truth if necessary. Really this shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Nightwing.”

Breathing is difficult. His stomach spasms with each inhale and exhale. It’s slow and pained. Thoughts are difficult too. His eyes remain fixed on the dull monitor. Jason is moving. Reaching for his empty holsters. Tim is shifting. Damian remains still.

A gentle hand guides his chin away from the screen.

“Don’t lie to me,” the old woman whispers. There are tears in her eyes. “I told you that this was very important to me. Would you like to know why? Why I do this?”

Dick doesn’t have the strength to say yes or no. Doesn’t have the will to nod his head or turn it away. He can only stare through the lens of his mask.

“He has my grand-daughter,” she admits, voice trembling. Her fingers tap a frantic rhythm against his chin and blood flicks in their dance across his face. “I just know it. And I know you must know it too. You live in Bludhaven, don’t you? You work with the police there. Surely you must know? You’ve told me as much, so surely… Surely you know where she is?”

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

The tapping stops and fingernails dig into the sides of his jaw, shaking him. It jars something in his mouth and he coughs, spittle flying out and something hard dislodging. He’s lost a tooth then it would seem.

“Her name is Maria Dunken,” the old woman tells him, looking, searching, for anything like recognition in Dick’s bloody face. “She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s only sixteen. Please, you must know what he did to her. Where she is. Answer me! Tell me!”

Dick feels himself drifting, mind floating somewhere between coherence and dizziness. He can’t feel his feet anymore, his heart is beating beating beating, and there’s a dark fuzz building at the edges of his vision.

The old woman releases his face, pulling instead at the heavy arm of Burtrum. “This,” she says almost breathless, the panic building in her voice, “This is her uncle. Don’t you see? You must, you must know where she is. We are her family. Family is important, I know you understand this. See, look at your brothers! You do this for them, don’t you?”

Yes, Dick thinks, a mist falling over his sight. Always.

“I, we both, would do anything for our families. This was my last hope, Nightwing. My last resort. I tried so hard to get the police involved but no one would answer. Do you know how long I searched for you though? How long would you have ignored my grand-daughter if I had not brought you here? How long?”

Dick doesn’t know. The room is getting darker. He can feel his shoulders sagging against the cold table, muscles trembling and collapsing.

“Sorry,” he rasps, because that sounds like the right thing to say. He is sorry about Maria Dunken and her poor grandma. He is sorry he didn’t stick with Kennedy Giavich longer. He is sorry he ever got into this situation. He’s paying the price for it now.

The old woman laughs wetly, Burtrum jerking in her grasp. “All will be forgiven if you tell me where Maria is. Everything will be okay. Just tell me. Please.”

Dick’s eyes are drifting back to the monitor, it’s dull glow all he can focus on. Its bright edges are just enough to chase away the luring darkness that’s clouding his eyesight. Jason is up, pacing, pounding against the door. Tim is picking through his belt, nimble fingers taking stock. Damian is staring right at him. Straight at the camera. Dick feels a smile tugging at his sore features. He doesn’t remember the last time Damian ever looked so small. He’s grown up, hasn’t he?

“Nightwing?” a voice calls to him, distracting him. “Where is she?”

Slowly, Dick glances back over to the petite and frail woman and her hulking figure of a son. They make a funny picture, contrasting spectacularly against each other, but their faces, even if one is covered, are filled with a dangerous kind of hope. Thrill. Expectance.

Suddenly, a headline crosses to the forefront of Dick’s mind. Two weeks ago, a body was found in an alleyway, stuffed underneath piles of garbage. It was a young girl, a Jane Doe, and she had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was strangled to death. Even now, the details are barely there, the news a similar story to all the other tragedies that happen and continue to happen. But still. Grandmother and son look at him, his bruised and broken body, and think he has the answers they seek.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“She’s dead.”

Dick blinks and finds he doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes again.

~oOo~

Jason is about to punch the door for the fifth time when he hears something click on the other side.

Tim is trying to figure out how to get his communicator to work with little reception when he sees Jason take a step back from the door.

Damian is still staring at the weird indent in the ceiling when he realizes neither of the other occupants are moving.

They all stare at the heavy door as Jason carefully edges towards it, pressing a hand against the far side. There is little resistance and the obstruction that had trapped them for so long swings open. White light pours in and they have to squint against its brilliance. An empty hall reveals itself past the frame, and through the hall is another open door, the sounds of the city filtering beyond it. 

Jason is the first to move, taking a step out of the small room that smelled of sweat and old heat. Tim follows, gathering his emptied belt and peering into the white expanse. Damian trails after, suspicion the only thing keeping him from fleeing out into the streets. No one stops them as they walk down the long, clean hallway. There are no doors, no windows, no other exits other than straight ahead and when they step out into the damp and smog filled air of Gotham, life dances before them.

They are free.

They are free and are forced to wonder: At what cost?

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH41

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 41: Star Death Reality Show (XXIV)

For a long time, Qi Leren couldn’t find the ability to think.

He seemed to be a poor man petrified by magic, just sitting in a chair, watching the system prompt gradually disappear from the screen.

Ning Zhou was dead?

Dead. Qi Leren couldn't put this cold word on Ning Zhou. Even if it was just in his imagination, he couldn’t accept it.

His trachea seemed to be blocked, and Qi Leren felt that he had returned to the sea, feeling the pain caused by suffocation in the increasingly strong water pressure. He couldn't breathe and couldn't escape. The oppressive darkness and death surrounded him, tormented him, and made him unable to endure for even one second.

He had to go to Ning Zhou! He had to bring him back from Purgatory!

He had always been used to waiting passively, indulging his interia and dependence as he waited, comforting himself. This was the best way, but he didn't expect that some people, some things, he couldn’t wait for. The anxious sense of urgency weighed heavily on his shoulders; just like when he had used the Prophet's Heart, a huge clock kept counting down behind him.

Counting the seven days after his death, today was the twenty-fourth day after his resurrection. There were only five days left for him. He had to hurry back and bring Ning Zhou back, otherwise...

Qi Leren couldn't think of what followed.

Don don don— When a knock on the door sounded, Qi Leren was startled and hurriedly closed the laptop. At the moment it closed, it disappeared out of thin air. Thankfully he had turned off the invisible camera that followed him, otherwise he really didn't know how to explain all this.

A skill card was lying quietly on the computer desk. Qi Leren had no time to think about it. He put the skill card in the item bar and asked loudly, "Who’s there?"

When the door opened, Du Yue stood outside looking surprised. "You’re really here?"

This was a strange question. Qi Leren felt strange when he heard it: "How did you know I was here?"

Du Yue scratched his head, a little muddled and a little confused, and said, "There’s a very strange gentleman... I don't know where he came from... He showed me the way and said that you were here."

A chill penetrated Qi Leren's back and cold sweat flowed down. Qi Leren's hand was shaking. If he didn't deliberately control it, his voice would tremble. The familiar fear returned to him; even if he just thought the name of that person, he would feel terrible.

A person who suddenly appeared and knew him like the back of his hand, a person who could access and even interfere with the copy, a… terrible person.

He had come here again for the secret hidden in this laptop.

"Where is he?" Qi Leren asked slowly.

"He said he would be at the lowest level of the institute. Qianbei, is he a survivor of this planet? Did they not leave here, but lived underground or something?" Du Yue, who didn't know Su He, never thought of the man’s real identity, but thought he was a part of this copy.

Qi Leren took a deep breath, shook his head, and got up and walked out of the room.

"What about the others? Have you spoken with them?" Qi Leren asked.

"We split up just now," Du Yue said in a depressed way.

Qi Leren didn't ask any more questions and walked quickly towards the safe corridor. Since Su He wanted to see him, he had to bite the bullet and go, but this time he had no Easter Eggs. If Su He made him choose between life and death again...

I should make an agreement with him, Qi Leren thought. He absolutely couldn’t die here. If he died, Ning Zhou would be fated to follow that terrible path, leading to the abyss of death. He couldn't watch Ning Zhou die.

If Ning Zhou became a demon, he would accompany him.

If the world wouldn’t let them be together, then they would go to hell together.

He wasn’t afraid, because nothing was more terrible than losing him.

But if Su He insisted on killing him... Qi Leren stopped on the stairs, turned to Du Yue, and said, "I have something to ask of you."

"Qianbei, please say it, I’ll do it!" Along the way, because of Qi Leren’s dignified expression, Du Yue felt nervous, thinking he may have made some big mistake. Now that he heard that his qianbei wanted to make a request, all he had to do was clap a hand to his chest and promise.

"Don't follow me later, do everything possible to protect your own safety. If I die, go back to the Village of Dusk and find a woman named Chen Baiqi..." As Qi Leren spoke, he took out a pen and paper and quickly wrote about Ning Zhou, then handed it to Du Yue.

Du Yue opened his mouth and looked ready to cry. "Is it that dangerous? Qianbei, don’t go!"

"There are some things that can't be escaped," Qi Leren said. Su He had come in person, and it would take him only minutes to kill everyone in the copy. He didn't even have the cards to negotiate with him. It was simply a fantasy to avoid him. "If you find Dr. Lu, don't get separated from him. Although he’s often confused, he’s still very lucky. That person should not be interested in killing you... I’m leaving, you should be careful."

Du Yue gawked at Qi Leren. He really was crying. A big and strong boy who was only eighteen years old could not hold back his tears when faced with life or death, and he took Qi Leren's hand with a face of snot and tears and refused to let go.

Qi Leren had to comfort him with a white lie: "Don't worry, this is only the worst case. Generally, I’m lucky and won't die."

Du Yue was dumbfounded: "But Dr. Lu said that your luck level falls below the alphabet."

“………………”

Qi Leren, who had been exposed, finally just pushed Du Yue out of the stairwell and continued to go down. As the floor numbers dropped, he entered deeper and deeper underground, and the surrounding air became colder and colder. Even wearing temperature regulating clothes, it still made Qi Leren feel stiff all over.

As he walked, Qi Leren looked at the skill card that had been left after the laptop disappeared.

[Sophisticated Lawyer: A cunning lawyer should avoid the traps in the contract and do everything possible to help their client, who has paid enough in legal fees to avoid contracts that are not beneficial to them. If you sign a contract with anyone after equipping this skill card, that contract can't bind you, but a payment of 130 survival days will be consumed. Remaining usages: 1/1]

Qi Leren's face turned green. He worked hard with the Devil of Fraud to save 147 survival days, but this would take 130 days at once?! If this skill card was used and his identity was revealed in this copy... Very good, he would be directly obliterated because of insufficient survival days.

But he knew in his heart that if "it" would give him this thing, it was already hinting that he… he would need this skill card.

Just like the Easter Egg.

Qi Leren looked at this skill card with mixed feelings and inserted it into the card slot.

He had already reached the 13th floor underground. The depth of this underground research institute was really shocking. At present, he faced the exit of the stairwell. Qi Leren hesitated outside the door for a while before fearfully pushing it open.

Ahead of him, there was a cold and featureless metal corridor, dark and lacquered, and the range of a flashlight was limited. Where light couldn't reach, the deep darkness was like a beast's open jaws, waiting for him to trap himself.

Qi Leren let out a mouthful of hot air that condensed into a thin cloud of white smoke in the extremely low temperature air.

He stepped out of the stairwell.

Light suddenly hit his eye, and the sudden light blinded his eyes with whiteness, but the fresh air and warm temperature from the tip of the nose made him realize that he was no longer in the cold underground research institute.

Sure enough, when his sight returned to normal, the ethereal and clean world around him made him hold his mouth tightly shut.

The blue sky was endless, and there was one white island after another floating around him, unable to discern if they were white clouds or floating islands. Pigeons flew from the direction where the sun was rising, and the whole world was immersed in the hope of dawn. Who could have guessed that this was a Devil’s field?

Qi Leren stood on the tower of the floating island, where he had once come and had a friendly conversation with the Devil of Fraud.

At that time, Su He had said that this was the Village of Dawn in his memory, and he had projected the ideal hometown into his own field. Qi Leren didn't know whether this sentence is true or not, but if he thought deeply, he couldn't help but feel fear for the truth of the Village of Dawn—was the so-called Village of Dawn itself not this Devil’s field?

"Good morning, lost lamb." A hoarse and charming voice came from behind Qi Leren, which scared Qi Leren into turning around quickly.

On this terrace that had been empty only a few seconds ago, there appeared a woman holding a white porcelain tray, as if she had appeared out of thin air.

This was the sexiest woman Qi Leren had ever seen. This was so even though her hair was tied in a meticulous bun and she was dressed in a high-necked black dress, her whole body covered—only her face was exposed, and even her hands were wearing a pair of black silk gloves. Even if a naked woman was standing there, she would not attract more attention than her, because no one would have the same reserved yet affectionate smile as her.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Ruth. It's a very common name, isn't it? In the demon world’s capital city, if you shout Ruth casually, at least ten women will turn around. So I prefer others to call me the Witch of Lust." Ruth walked lightly to the round table and sat down, waving to Qi Leren again. "Sit down, the little pet His Majesty is in charge of keeps causing trouble again. If you ask me, it really needs to be changed to a bigger cage."

"What pet?" Qi Leren asked cautiously.

Ruth crossed her hands under her chin—this action was really like her master—and hesitated: "A goldfish."

A goldfish? Qi Leren was at a loss. What trouble could a goldfish make? Jumping out of the goldfish bowl? It was worth Su He handling it himself?

A goldfish bowl? This word suddenly awakened Qi Leren's reluctant memory. It suddenly occurred to him that Su He had been called away by a voice when he had revealed his identity and killed him. At that time, Qi Leren had lost blood and couldn’t see clearly, but his ears had still heard the voice. What were the exact words? They seemed to be...

[...The goldfish bowl has raised an alarm. It’s very likely that it will escape again...]

Wasn't what lived in the goldfish bowl a goldfish?

It was going to escape, and again? That is to say, it had escaped before?

What on earth was this thing?

Lust calmly poured tea for Qi Leren, and there were three tea sets on the table. Her and Qi Leren’s cups were already filled, but the empty one still waited for its bearer.

"He always makes us wait so long. If you don't mind, we can talk casually." Lust stirred the black tea in the porcelain cup with a delicate silver spoon, but her eyes never left Qi Leren for a moment.

"...What is there to talk about?" Qi Leren asked warily.

"Let's talk about men. Women like me and men like you always like this topic," the Witch of Lust laughed.

"..." What do you mean, "men like you"? Qi Leren was a little depressed.

"What do you think of His Majesty?" the Witch of Lust asked wistfully.

Could he say that he thought he was a deeply-scheming pervert? After Qi Leren learned Su He’s true face, it made his hair stand on end when he recalled the little things from when they used to get along. This feeling was probably like if he had found out an old friend of many years was actually a serial murderer, and that he was his next target.

However, Qi Leren couldn't make such comments to the witch about her boss, lest she become angry from his impudence and teach him to be a man in 10,000 ways. He had to breathe a sullen sigh, consider the sentence carefully and thoughtfully, and after deleting a few-hundred-word-long negative review, provide a small truth that wouldn’t offend anyone: "He’s very handsome."

Lust giggled with joy and reached out to touch Qi Leren's cheek: "You’re so cute, I like you a little."

A sigh came from behind Qi Leren: "Ruth, I asked you to dress properly and take care of the guest, not flirt with him."

The voice struck Qi Leren's head like thunder and lightning. He suddenly jumped up from his chair, then felt that he had overreacted, so he sat back down in embarrassment. The footsteps behind him were getting closer and closer, passing his seat and sitting down in the empty chair opposite Qi Leren.

Su He wore what appeared to be a riding suit, as if he had just arrived by horseback, and he took off his white gloves and held them in one hand. He looked like a human being, handsome and gentle. He didn't seem to notice Qi Leren’s blunder, and he forgot his former unhappiness. After sipping a mouthful of black tea that Ruth poured for him, he put down his cup and smiled, saying to Qi Leren who was on pins and needles:

"On this beautiful night, are you interested in making a deal with me?"

-----

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[mellointheory]

Metal Elephant, Carried By Mice

The rain transformed the city.

Most people stayed inside, unwilling to venture out into the downpour. This city had been pouring toxins into the sky for decades, and the rain was a palpable sign of it. Acid burns from prolonged exposure were common, and were part of the reason tattoos and metallic skin implants were common. Normal people went inside when it rained.

It was freaks like Sam who stayed outside.

The rain pattered on slick, dark streets, capturing the reflections of neon lights and twisting them across puddles in the ground. Drops soaked into Sam’s vest, darkening the already stained yellow fabric, and dripped into his eyes as he made his way through the streets. A small gang of figures wearing rain resistant hoods were gathered in the mouth of an alleyway he passed, passing around a small pipe of something. It glowed bright green in the darkness. They noticed him pass, but didn’t move to stop him. There was an unspoken agreement between them, fools of the streets who dared to wander in the rain.

In the broad daylight he have gotten far more of a reaction—a seven foot tall hybrid walking the streets was hardly ever viewed as an acceptable sight, especially not one of Sam’s type—but he was in his element right now, the time designated for people like him. The hybrids, the assassins, the gamblers, the belly of the underground. The people who decided when the wars went down.

Hypixel City’s less reputable areas were split up among the various gangs powerful enough to take control. It was all about where the prices were higher, where the water was cleaner, where the toxins were least dangerous. Of those three only price really made a difference to Sam, but he chose his side anyway. He never got directly involved in the wars, that was too dangerous for everyone present, but he protected their area in his own way. Alarms, traps, security cameras, the works. He had been expecting this to happen ever since the rain first started, and he’d asked the others to be on the alert.

Boomer and Hannah were at the break site when he got there. The chain link fence between two areas had been cut open, leaving an area big enough for even someone Sam’s size to slip through. Both of the racers were arguing loudly, voices audible over the rain as Sam approached them.

“Sam!” Hannah called as he came over, whipping towards him and cutting Boomer off in the middle of his sentence. She had her helmet on, but it was easy to identify her by the glowing rose tattoos on her bare arms. “Where did they go from here?”

“I don’t know, they knocked out the cameras.” Sam opened his communicator to the channel the entire squad shared. Rain spattered on the screen and he wiped it away to read the messages sent most recently. “Punz went north to look for them, Ant and Gumi went west.”

“They’re not dumb enough to go south.” Boomer took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, milky-blue eyes narrowed. “I mean, Bad’s place down there.”

“What’s he gonna do, serve them a muffin?” Hannah rolled her eyes, pulling her bike from where it leaned against the fence and kicking the stand up. It was a sleek, dark thing held together by magnetism mostly, with glowing pink lights on the tailpipe and the front and peace and love sprayprainted across the side. Sam had built most of it for her, as a favor for helping out at the plant.

“Come on, Bad’s more dangerous than that.” Boomer raised the pitch of his voice to a gratingly high octave. “oh, hello, are you Skeppy? You’re not Skeppy! Time to die, muffin head!” His voice returned to its normal bass rumble. “Then boom, they’re dead.”

“Bad has enough of a reputation to keep them out of his bar, but Ant’s sanctuary is past that. They may just have avoided him to try to hit in a place where it’ll hurt.” Sam tapped his communicator, pulling up camera footage from near the southern side of their territory.

“Do you want us to head down there and guard it?” The tattooed roses on Hannah’s arms shone luminous pink in the dark, twisting as she stretched them up over her head.

“That would be the best plan.” Sam nodded, flicking through camera views. “They know our territory better than they should. I’ll keep checking the cameras, you two patrol the area by Ant’s sanctuary.”

“Got it, big man.” Boomer swung one leg over the seat of his bike. It was bulkier than Hannah’s—Sam had helped him put it together years ago—and shone silver despite the grime of the streets. He revved the motor, green light flaring up from the tailpipe, and took off with the splash of water beneath him. The lights left a visible trail in the air, caught on the mist of falling rain. Hannah’s bike darted after him, catching up within a few seconds.

Sam returned his attention to his communicator.

What if they’re baiting us out or something? Gumi had messaged in the past few seconds.

Baiting us away from what? Sam typed back.

Maybe they want a hostage. Antfrost sent. They’re rats enough for that.

The most available hostage is that DUNDERHEAD Skeppy >:[ Red replied.

If they take Skeppy I’ll destroy them Bad typed quickly. Typical. He had been offline for most of the evening, serving the customers in his bar, then as soon as Skeppy was suggested to be in danger he jumped into the chat.

Yeah, like you destroyed his asshole last night. Red sent. Sam sighed and shut his eyes.

Focus. He told them. Boomer and Hannah are going to check around the sanctuary. Gumi and Ant, I’m assuming you haven’t seen anything.

There was a nope, from Ant and a negative, Samuelson from Gumi

Punz, what about you? Sam asked.

No reply.

Dammit, he shouldn’t have let Punz go out alone. If Punz saw them he would probably just move in immediately, try to injure the intruders and slow them before he even called in with info.

Punz you WHORE give us an update!!! Gumi sent.

Sam groaned and put his communicator in his pocket. He bent to inspect the severed wires of the fence. It was a divider between the Pummel Squad’s territory and that of the NeoSkars. The wires were cut cleanly, not with clippers, but seared straight through. They had actual gear to infiltrate with. The size of the hole they’d needed to make also hinted that they had a few hybrids on their own side, or at least heavily modded humans.

They could take care of the intruders eventually. He knew the squad well, trusted them to handle themselves in a fight—well, most of them. The problem was what they would do while in Pummel territory. If they managed to make a hit at something that belonged to a member of the crew—like Ant’s sanctuary or Red’s enhancement dealership—they would deal a blow to both the gang’s reputation, and the members themselves. Ant would be heartbroken if any of his animals died. They were all strange creatures, chimeras created for the enjoyment of rich patrons, that were eventually decided to no longer be novelties and tossed out on the streets. Ant was probably the only person keeping abandoned creatures like them from dying on the roadside.

Boomer and Hannah would keep the sanctuary safe. They may argue and scream about it, but they would do it. Sam’s greatest worry at the moment was whatever was happening in Punz’s area. Everyone else was grouped up, had a buddy to keep them safe. Punz was being too reckless.

As always.

All Sam could hope was that it wasn't too bad this time.

[loki-hargreeves]

Kylo Ren x Reader - You’re Kidnapped (dark angst)

Summary: The force connected you and Kylo Ren, who was now your husband. One of your old enemies, a wealthy weapon manufacturer and criminal kidnaps you. His stalker-ish obsession over you and anger towards Kylo Ren makes the enemy put you through the same pain he has gone through (in his mind). Kylo comes to rescue you, only to see how hurt you are which fuels him with rage. Prompt: “You will regret ever hurting her, that I promise you”

Word Count: 4,5K Warnings: Psychological torture, physical torture, angst, gore, stalking/obsession, mentions of sexual/breeding fantasies, killing (this got a bit dark. 18+, no smut) Author’s Note: Okay, so this happened. I really hope it’s alright. I was in the mood for dark angst. I stayed up all night writing this so it probably sucks @i-have-arrived-bitch​  here it is, the first one :)

Third POV

Garr Caine

He was a weapon manufacturer, past thief, someone Y/N once knew very well. Before they became enemies, they were friends, which was a very long time ago. It ended when Garr became scarily obsessed with Y/N. He would fantasize of a future with her and tell people they were together, when in reality they weren’t. When he was turned down, he was determined to make her regret her decision.

Y/N Ren, previously Y/N Y/L/N, used to be a thief too. Not that she had a choice. She was born into a family of thieves, forced to work for the rich. Her upbringing made her angry at the world. She learned she was force sensitive as a young adult. That’s what attracted attention to her. Eventually, she met Kylo Ren when she was turning in a man that the first order had been after.

Long story short, they were now married. Kylo Ren never thought he’d find anyone to share his deepest and darkest secrets with. Never did he think he’d fall for a force sensitive who was neither on the dark side nor the light. She was herself, lived by her own rules. Kylo adored that about her. Sure, she lived with him which meant she basically belonged to the dark side. She worked for them, but she didn’t necessarily side with them. She sided with her husband.

Years had passed and truly, Y/N had forgotten about Garr. He was irrelevant to her. She was happy with Kylo and being his wife kept her busy all day long, which she was content with. He had taught her how to use to force. Kylo completed her. She couldn’t be happier.

                      Unbeknownst to her, the word had spread in the galaxy that Kylo Ren had wed a commoner, someone who came from nothing. It was on the tip of all gossiping tongues. How they had found out, no one really knew the source. It became popular belief nevertheless, and eventually ended up in the ears of Garr Caine.

His old and unhealthy obsession slowly crept back into his veins in the form of pure jealousy and anger. She was his, not Kylo Ren’s! A devilish plan had sneaked into Garr’s head, he would make her his. As a known weapon manufacturer, Garr knew exactly what to do. You see, the first order often purchased weapons from Garr’s company.

For many moons, Garr’s plan developed and went by unnoticed. No one in the entire galaxy seemed to suspect a thing. They had a whole different kind of a war to think about. Garr would meet people from the first order while making deals. He expected to catch a glimpse of Kylo or Y/N, but for a long time that never happened. It wasn’t until Y/N and six stormtroopers were sent to purchase a new special weapon that Garr finally saw her again.

The men that worked for Garr had killed the stormtroopers in cold blood and eventually overpowered Kylo’s wife. That night, she never returned from the mission. It wasn’t until late the next day that Kylo Ren was informed of this.

General Hux had gotten the honor of delivering the message to Kylo. Sure, the ginger man was nervous of Kylo’s reaction, he was almost happy in a way. He hated Kylo Ren. Knowing that the one thing he truly cared about could be in danger was almost too good.

Kylo Ren was beginning to wonder where his wife was, but he knew she was on a relatively harmless mission, so he hadn’t been too worried at first. By the time she was several hours late, he began to worry…a lot. He had demanded his troops to find out what was going on. While waiting for answers, Kylo was working on another mission of his.

A knock on Kylo’s quarters’ door distracted him. As he turned around to see whoever dared interrupt him, he saw general Hux. He was accompanied by stormtroopers. Was he nervous of something?

“Ren, it’s…about your wife,” Hux started carefully, knowing damn well how temperamental Kylo could be.

“Yes?” Kylo encouraged him to go on, his mechanical voice concealing his worry. He sounded rather intimidating.

General Hux straightened his back, as if he was preparing for something terrible. “No one from the mission has reported back. Their movements can’t be tracked for the past…uh, seven hours. We tried to contact them and the weapon seller, but to no avail.”

Seven hours?!

The bad news stunned Kylo. He felt anger bubbling in his veins already, mixing with the worry he felt. He could sense that Y/N was alive, their force connection was wrong, but something was blocking it. It had never been so weak, strange almost. Immediately, Kylo knew that it must’ve been far worse than he imagined. She was in danger and he was angry at himself that this had happened in the first place.

Just the idea of Y/N being somewhere alone, injured and scared make Kylo sick to his stomach. 

A daring stormtrooper decided to add fuel to the fire, “Their ship was found galaxies away from their target planet, sir.”

Kylo reached out his hand and used the force to pull the man right into his grasp, adding pressure on his windpipe in order to make the man wheeze.

“Find her!” Kylo growled loudly, his rage beginning to boil over. He let go of the stormtrooper and pushed him out of the quarters. Enough time had been wasted already. The stormtroopers and general Hux were already on their way, afraid to taste Kylo’s lightsaber if they stayed around long enough to see his emotions unravel. If he found out someone or something had as much as touched her hair, he would make sure to drag them to their personal torment and make them regret ever stepping foot in the universe.

Kylo grabbed his lightsaber and swung it at whatever inanimate material was around him. He yelled out in anger, unleashing it on the wall, watching how the red sunk into the metal like a knife into butter. Sparks of electricity and the sound of gnashing metal echoed in the corridor, mixed with Kylo Ren’s angry curses.

No one harmed what was dear to him and lived to tell the tale.

No one.

                            A throbbing headache forced Y/N to awake to a harsh reality. She was not on the starkiller base, not with Kylo and she was most definitely not safe. She could tell when she noticed she couldn’t move her body that was restrained to a metal chair. Special handcuffs were around her wrists, keeping her from using the force to free herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get rid of them and panic began to crawl underneath her skin.

Y/N realized she was trapped.

The last thing she could remember was meeting the weapon seller. A familiar face had met them. Y/N didn’t recognize the person at first. She remembered how unfamiliar soldiers had appeared and killed off the stormtroopers, but not her.

It didn’t take her long to realize she was the target. Or perhaps someone she cared about, such as Kylo. Nevertheless, she knew she was in grave danger and she needed to come up with an escape plan. It would’ve been much easier if it wasn’t for her condition. Her heart was stammering in her chest like a wild animal trying to escape a cage, her breaths got heavy and it made her aching head spin.

Calm down! She told herself and forced herself to slow down her breathing. If she wanted to escape, she had to get a grip on herself.

Instead of focusing on how ill she felt, she took in her surroundings. She was in a small, dark room. She could tell it was small by the way her breathing didn’t echo at all. There were no windows. Nothing gave away whether she was on a planet or on a spaceship. It smelled like dust, something metallic and chemicals. Not a good sign. Everything about the place made her fear the worst, that someone professional was behind this. Someone who could cover their tracks.

The heavy door opened, and someone turned on bright, white lights, nearly blinding Y/N. She squeezed her eyes shut as she got used to the light. “Oh, someone’s awake! Finally.” That voice, it was so familiar.

She opened her eyes to see her tormentor. It was the weapon seller. That’s when she remembered that face,

Garr Caine.

“Remember me, Y/N?” Garr wanted to know. He was mocking her, thriving off the fact that he had her under his control at last. 

He was a sick bastard.

“Unfortunately,” she spat out angrily. Garr Caine had been nothing but trouble in her life. He haunted her teenage years with his possessiveness over her.

Garr pressed a button that made electricity pulse through Y/N´s body, stiffening every muscle which spread pain over her entire being. When the source of the electricity was cut, she let out a cry in pain. 

She did not expect that.

“I’m in control, Y/N. Don’t make me angry. We could be happy together. You can forget about Kylo, he’s in the past anyway,” Garr threatened Y/N. She didn’t care about that, she cared about Kylo. What did Garr mean by that?

Her confusion became evident on her face, so Garr continued, “Your husband came looking for you, alone! How reckless. We got rid of him. Now it’s truly just you and me.”

“Liar!” She growled with hatred. Y/N refused to believe that nasty scumbag for even a second. She couldn’t even imagine a situation in which Garr could kill Kylo. He was lying, he had to be! Despite her disbelief, her hopelessness and worry got the best of her. She began to tug on her restraints vigorously, hoping to be released until Garr sent another pulse of painful electricity through her body, this time making tears roll down the sides of her face. The pain was excruciating, filling her every nerve with a hot sting.

Garr pulled a chair out of the corner and sat down next to Y/N. His filthy hand tangled into her hair and he yanked her head towards him so he could whisper to her, his breath landing on her soft skin, “Behave or I’ll just have to teach you better manners. I thought you’d be happy to see me! It’s been so long.”

Y/N hated him. Yes, she was scared of more pain, she was terrified that he was speaking the truth. In the end, she was disgusted by him and she would never give into his sick fantasies. “It’s not been long enough, you sick- aah!” She yelped in pain – he slapped her.

These restraints were too difficult to break out of. It was haunting for her to realize that if Kylo wasn’t coming for her, her chances of survival were incredibly slim. Knowing that Garr had her in his palms made her skin crawl in disgust. He was the worst person that could have ever taken her.

Shivers ran down her spine when he kissed her cheek, his dirty lips tasting her salty tears. The gesture made her freeze in fear. Suddenly Garr chuckled darkly and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “A wedding ring. How did I forget?”

Not the ring! Y/N’s heart swelled sadly as she feared he’d destroy the ring that connected her to Kylo. It was special. “No, please!”

Garr didn’t care about her plead. He tried to remove it, but Y/N curled her finger and used all her strength to keep it that way. Garr didn’t like that, not one bit, “You either let me remove it or else I will cut off your entire finger. You choose!”

He seemed dead serious. Even though, it felt like a disgrace, she did as told. He removed the ring, which left her feeling naked, oddly enough. He stripped her off from whatever reminded of Kylo. Oh Kylo, she really hoped he was alright.

“You’re mine.”

That sounded very much like a threat to her.

                                  Kylo Ren and his knights had tracked down Y/N’s ship. It had ended up on Jakku out of all the possible places in the entire universe. A desert planet full of scavengers and outlaws. He knew that someone knew how that ship ended on the dull planet. Kylo Ren watched as his troops and knights searched the village they arrived at. He watched destruction unfold. He hated the place; it was never good for anything really. Villagers, greedy and afraid, screamed and cried in horror as the first order searched the place throughout. Nothing and no one could hide.

Finally, a knight of Ren brought a man, a strange creature indeed, to Kylo. “Sir, this man claims ownership of the spaceship.”

Kylo felt disgust against the creature. Greedy enough to claim it was his despite the fact there was a blaster pointed at him. There was no time for games. Kylo went straight for his mind, putting his gloved hand on the man’s forehead and digging into his thoughts. The force made the man cry out in pain. No one really liked to have their mind torn open.

He could see him purchasing scrap metal from starving villagers for barely a bite of food. He was thinking about his anger towards the first order, he had seen someone get shot and finally…

his memory of getting the spaceship.

This creature had bought it from a woman who was not from Jakku. Kylo focused on the man’s memory and learned the woman came from Cantonica. Of course, Kylo thought, it was exactly where Y/N and the stormtroopers were destined to go to. The woman had sold the ship for a bargain, threatening to kill the man if he revealed who sold it to him. By now, Kylo knew what he needed to know.

He let go of the man and nodded to the knight, giving him permission to fire his blaster. The man had no time to react before life slipped away from him. He was gone.

“We’re going to Cantonica.”

                                         How long had she been there? Three days? Four? Maybe five? In the darkness, it was hard to tell. Y/N’s entire body was aching, not only from limited mobility, but the torture Garr had put her through after she refused to give into his sick dreams. She’d rather die than say she loved him just to please his screwed-up mind.

Garr clearly wanted her alive. He gave her water and he fed her something that didn’t taste too bad. Y/N had no choice but to accept the food. She was happy it wasn’t as nasty as him.

“Can I please walk around a little bit?” Y/N requested, hoping her sad voice would fool him.

Garr took a deep breath, as if he was disappointed. “You know I can’t say yes to that when I don’t trust you! You can use the bathroom later when assistance arrives. I’m sure there are other ways I could make you feel better though.”

The thought made Y/N’s insides squirm. She was lucky to be relevantly untouched by him, but he kept telling her about all the things he wanted to do to her, and it sickened her. Garr was probably a little nudge away from making it come true. She thought she couldn’t cry more. Y/N wasn’t a crier, but after everything that Garr had done, tears were only a small reaction. “I feel sick.”

“You shouldn’t have misbehaved!”

Y/N was convinced she was losing her mind in that room.

Garr ran his finger up and down her cheek, not avoiding the cut, just to remind her of what he had done. “When we have children, I really hope our first child is a boy.”

Sick, gross, fool, she thought. Keeping her mouth shut was incredibly hard, but she was weak. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more of his sick ways on inflicting pain. Garr Caine was a torturer as much as he was a weapon manufacturer. His mind was creatively good at coming up with ways to bring as much destruction as needed.

“Would you like that? For me to knock you up? Mmh, you’d look so delightful with my child,” Garr seemed to really like the idea of having children.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

“Y/N, we should’ve been together long ago. I should’ve never let you go! Look at yourself, you ended up with Kylo Ren. You could do so much better. Once we have children of our own, I really hope they have a better sense of judgment than you do, dear.”

“Shut up! Shut up, we will never have children! I would much rather die, Garr!” Y/N reached her breaking point. She didn’t want to listen to another word that left his mouth.

He really hated when she acted out. “You’ll change your mind eventually. It’s not like you have a choice either.” Garr walked to a table that was behind Y/N’s chair. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard metallic sounds. He must’ve been handling some sort of blades. The sound sent shivers down her spine. What was he up to now? Y/N felt rotten to her core as she sat there. She hated to be so weak and helpless, just waiting for him to make her scream in pain.

Would it ever end?

 Cantonica was another desert planet, but on the outside, it was much fancier than Jakku. The rich lived here, turning everyday life into races and parties. Kylo despised it. These people were drunk, reckless and they had no ambition in their daily lives. They had money and that seemed to be all the cared for.

Kylo knew that somewhere on that planet he’d find his wife. Something was still blocking her from the force, but Kylo sensed her presence, nevertheless.

After having roamed through the city, they gained valuable information. Apparently, a well-known weapon manufacturer had been missing for as long as Y/N, the one she was sent to meet. He had told the first order his name was Radu Drii, but Kylo found out his real name through a friend of his. The man they were looking for was Garr Caine. After searching the place well, Kylo located the woman who sold the spaceship to the scumbag on Jakku.

Of course, she didn’t make it easy, but Kylo was driven by rage. He would find Y/N, no matter what. After a trip to the woman’s memories, he finally knew where to find Y/N and the filth who called himself Garr Caine.

He was going to be so sorry once Kylo got his hands on him.

Garr had a huge warehouse right outside the city. There were never inspections, visitors, nothing. Kylo led his knights and the stormtroopers there and they stormed the place. Shots were fired, bodies piled on the ground and chaos erupted around them. Kylo held his lightsaber close, more than ready to kill anyone that worked for that disgraceful man. The warehouse was huge. It nearly looked like the inside of a spaceship, a large one. Metallic, cold and dark. Something seemed to push Kylo in the right direction and he eliminated anyone in his way coldly without hesitation. Kylo was deep inside his head, focused on finding Y/N and his target. His wife was more important to him. So anyone who dared to try and make him stop got wiped off Kylo’s way by his lightsaber. He killed them off like the bugs they were, small and worthless.

He just knew Y/N was nearby. He could feel it deep in his bones.

The man was close too, but Kylo couldn’t quite find him yet. Garr knew this place like his back pocket. He was hiding, but Kylo knew he wouldn’t hide forever. The place was full of trained soldiers who would find anything if ordered to do so. Kylo opened all doors that he came across, only to investigate rooms that reminded Kylo of medical facilities. It was confusing to see that in a weapon warehouse. It must’ve been used for something criminal.

Finally, Kylo opened the right door. His heart sunk in his stomach as he saw Y/N. It felt like being punched in the gut and face simultaneously – worse, really. She was strapped down like an animal, handcuffed and her delicate body was covered in bruises, cuts and blood. Seeing her like that awoke something in Kylo he didn’t know he could feel. He felt incredibly angry at himself for letting her out of sight. He felt guilt and he could almost feel her pain. Kylo also felt protective over her, he wanted to take her into his arms and heal her, to make her all better again. But above all, Kylo wanted to find Garr Caine and make the man relive the same pain he put Y/N through, only a hundred times worse. Kylo wanted to watch life slip out of his body because of his hands. Nothing could do justice for the anger and hatred that burned through Kylo Ren when he thought about the man who had harmed Y/N.

Y/N opened her eyes weakly to see Kylo standing there with his helmet on. At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She was scared that Garr was playing tricks on her, dressing up as her beloved husband to give her false hope. Hot tears rained down her face. Despite fearing the worst, she was hopeful that it truly was Kylo, it felt like Kylo.

When he took off his helmet, her fears were washed away. “K-Kylo…” A sob left her trembling lips. It really was him. She had never felt as relieved and ashamed at the same time ever before.

He felt speechless as he released her from the restraints, all too similar to the ones they used on their hostages. By using the force, he released her from the heavy cuffs. Her wrists, arms, neck and ankles were sore and bruised from her fighting against the restraints. Seeing the damage done on her was shocking, it was heartbreaking. Tears stung Kylo’s eyes. He didn’t care that she could see him like that. He only cared about the fact she was alive.

She was too weak to get up, too weak to raise her arms to hug him. Kylo felt it. She was exhausted. So Kylo wrapped his arms around her extremely carefully and pulled her into a hug, happy to feel her in his arms. She was overwhelmed with joy to be held by him. Her husband. The man she loved. “I t-thought…” Y/N tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat, drowned by her weak whimpers and cries. Each little sound tormented Kylo’s mind.

His beloved wife was a wreck and he blamed himself.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay…it’s alright,” Kylo tried to comfort her, partly trying to convince himself of it too. He didn’t need her to speak now and frankly, she didn’t have the energy to do so either.

As her face was nuzzled in the crook of his neck, she failed to see the silent tears that spilt from Kylo’s eyes. His scent filled her lungs. His arms made her feel safe again. 

Kylo’s lips trembled. A part of him wanted to speak, the other wanted to be quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried and felt such heartache, but now he couldn’t fight it.

Someone had done this to his wife! 

His wife!

He couldn’t grasp how anyone could ever want to harm her.

                 “Sir, we’ve captured the target. He is ready for you.” Now was a really bad time to interrupt Kylo Ren. At least, they remembered that Kylo wanted him alive. For now. He would’ve gotten up to teach the stormtrooper a lesson, but he didn’t want to let go of her. Not now, not yet. He could feel how badly she needed him right now. It’s like they were both afraid to let go.

“Keep an eye on him. Transport him to the ship. Then get out of my sight!” Kylo was furious. He didn’t have to tell him that twice. They were left alone again, which was a huge relief.

Kylo sat on the floor with his wife on his lap. She was so weak, it frightened him. This was the contrast of the woman she was the last time he saw her. She had to lean against him just to stay upright. Some of her wounds were fresh, bleeding onto Kylo’s clothes. He could smell the iron of her blood which stung in his nose. Gently, Kylo placed his hand above her stomach, feeling how her wound pulsed in the rhythm of her heartbeat. He noticed that her body was quivering. “You’ll be alright,” Kylo promised her gently. This side of him was so foreign, reserved for her eyes only. He used the force to heal her, focusing on transferring his energy into her. It was raw, he felt all of it. They were one through the force. Her most acute wounds closed and healed like magic – disappearing like they were never there. Finally, she had enough energy to be okay, as he promised. She’d need a medical droid back at home, but she’d survive now.

Y/N was strong enough to cup Kylo’s face and kiss him. He kissed her back, tasting her tears and blood, but he didn’t care. No words were a match for the love they showed each other through that kiss. It said everything they needed to know.

They were both alright now.

And Kylo was getting closer to revenge. Garr Caine would be the living form of regret for just long enough until Kylo would kill him. Kylo would enjoy every second of it.

                      At last, they were home. Y/N was being treated by the medical droids and an actual medic. Kylo could finally visit Garr Caine, which would be awfully unpleasant for Garr. Kylo was still outside the interrogation room, but he could sense that the man was terrified. His fear, cowardliness was radiating like heat from a star.

It would take a lot of self-control to not squeeze the life out of the man on the spot. Kylo wanted it to be slow, like torture he was so familiar with. This was personal.

Finally, he entered the room. Kylo was pleased to see that Garr was strapped down too. A taste of his own medicine. Their eyes met and Kylo heard the man’s thoughts which were awfully loud. He was scared out of his mind and surprisingly angry. Garr hated Kylo.

Silently, Kylo walked further inside and dug deeper into his mind. It was not a sight for sore eyes what he saw inside Garr’s mind, memories of him harming the woman Kylo loved while claiming to care about her. He saw the sickening fantasies Garr had that revolved around Y/N. He had wanted children with her, with Kylo’s wife. The audacity of this man continued to shock Kylo, making him excited to hear his painful cries.

Kylo saw red as he looked at him.

Kylo force choked the man, struggling to keep himself from snapping his neck immediately. It was more than just tempting, but it would be too kind for him. Garr was in for a living nightmare no one would wish upon anyone - not even their own worst enemies. “You will regret ever hurting her, that I promise you.”

 _____

Author’s Note: okay so this is what my brain produces after 4 hours of sleep in 48 hours. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed writing it, but like I should probably sleep. For angst lovers, I hope you liked it.